The ring almost seems to hum with satisfaction when its rightful master studies it, and with even the slightest touch, the garnet glows to life. Glows with life, as he's entrapped himself in that little inset on her little finger for her to treasure always.
And she's such a tiny thing, really, when she draws in for an embrace. So much magical talent and latent ability, but he could take it all back in an instant with a snap of her neck. Cut her down in one keen slice. Pretty in simplicity, because all men bled simply and died exactly the same way.]
Hermione.
[Gilgamesh's voice comes with that same softness. He is a king of many talents, mimicry chief among them. He can play with her. In fact, he must to get what he wants.]
There's much good to be done in this world. Let me do it with you. Alongside you, there's much we can accomplish. Order can yet be restored. [With Ea, chopping apart all this misery.] I may yet prove it to you. Upon my name, I, Gilgamesh, King of Heroes...
[Leaning in, he mutters the very last piece beside the shell of her ear:]
...so pledge myself to you, however you see fit, to achieve these great things.
[ The embrace is easy enough to her; she hugs her friends, all of them, new and old, and showing her gratitude with a tightening of her arms and a bright smile is as natural to her as breathing is. It reminds her of being at home, of throwing her arms around Harry and squeezing him so tight that he almost toppled over from it, doing the same to Ron when she had the chance without the heat of embarrassment.
Still, she leans back and lets her smile soften, her eyes exploring his face a moment before her name catches her attention. She had been drifting to look at the ring again, to feel the twitch of it's power and the way it seemed to call for her, like it really was a physical expression of what their friendship was. She's about to go for it again, to lift it up and place it on her finger, but she knows that something is happening.
The tension between them seems to explode and she swallows, her gaze flicking up to him. ]
Gilga...
[ Oh. His breath is warm on her ear and there's a strange chill that runs down her, something intense and unfamiliar. She swallows, her eyes feeling trapped on his face as her arms slide down, resting on his shoulder before she stumbles back. It sounds as intense as it feels and she has to blink a few times - because she doesn't understand. ]
I mean, um, Gilgamesh. I don't - I don't really understand what you're asking. You know you're my friend and I'll help you as much as I can. You don't have to pledge yourself to me at all to accomplish that, really. Just being here is more than enough.
[ All of it comes out in a rush of nervous, tumbling words. That's what he meant, right? It seems impossible that he means - well, the rest. ]
[Some words require careful calculation, some requests require very particular turns of phrase, but here Gilgamesh just states it outright. He does take care to pull himself away, to unwind from her as she stumbles and leans back to grant her adequate space. But that's that, and there's not a ounce of doubt in what he's said nor any hesitation flickering through his eyes. He appears calmer than ever, composed from the very moment she walked in.
At the very least, any questions of friendship have been answered. Reaching for his wine—curiously now refilled, as if by magic—he sips away at it and studies her, lets the grandeur of the moment sink in.
It's alright if she doesn't understand it. This, that, the other thing. He'll tell her all she needs to know, soothe any doubts and chase away any fears. A marchioness could be very powerful, but with a marquis infinitely more so at her back... well, could it even be said that he lied at all?
Together they could destroy this world, tear it down, and rebuild it. In light of their combined power, the possible was very much possible, the unthinkable turned into reality. Such was the power of the King of Heroes who held a sword that could cleave through a planet and through life itself.
[ It feels like the air has been sucked out of her lungs.
She doesn't know what to say, not for a very long time. The idea is such a strange one, even after almost two years here in the Drabworld. She'd had conversations with others about love, of course, even talked about the debate of love in this world versus the reality of loving someone at home, having to give up on them, but she hadn't been entirely prepared for it.
It's not like she had walked into this with the expectation that this might happen. She had, at first, thought that Gilgamesh was a pig-headed, arrogant fool, and maybe he was, still, at times, a little beyond himself, but history had always said that was a bit of a fault of kings, one of their major falling points. Getting to see the softer side of him had been a bit of a relief, to think that her choice to trust him with a compass, to be at his side as a lion, wasn't so foolish. Her lessons with her, the magic they had shared, had only reinforced that.
But this? Courting, a sort of... Proposal, a definite proposal, was the last thing she had expected. She hadn't had any idea that Gilgamesh felt anything like that, as kind as he had been with her, and she had told him that she wasn't really going to just throw herself at people, that she was waiting for love, that's why she's not married... All the thoughts scream around in her mind as she stares at him for a long time, gaping like a fish, before her mouth snaps shut and she manages to find her breathing all of a sudden. ]
But - I --
[ Of course, the idea that she is being used doesn't really occur to her. She has no reason to distrust him yet, no one has warned her otherwise and all the servants seem to adore him. She doesn't understand any of this and her hands move away from him, her eyes searching him as if his eyes and his face would reveal all the answers. ]
Why? I didn't think you or I were - that we felt anything like that.
[When her hands move away, one of Gilgamesh's gently takes them up again, and he can nearly fit them both in a single palm. He squeezes around them, and she may note that he's quieter than he's ever been. Those eyes of his can prove foreboding at the best of times, but now they are thoughtful. He has made his move, and the result pleases him. He has found another Kirei, another Dorian to sink fangs into, and languid aftermath triumphs.
Now, Gilgamesh can relax. There's nothing more to do than push her along the waves that guide her straight into his den. And wasn't it funny, wasn't it sad? She's already here, anyway, and doesn't even realize what here actually means.
Taking the ring from its resting place, he slips it onto her finger and bends his lips for a kiss upon the gem. True to his claim, it glows with recognition, sends warm waves from skin straight to flesh. This is Gilgamesh's energy—Gilgamesh himself surging through her and offering support from within.
He lets the moment be, lets it ripen, draws it out, then looks back up. His face indeed reveals all the answers, the only one: I want you.
And he says not a word. Actions and airs have given her everything.]
[ It's hard to try and tackle the emotions she's feeling, the rush of too much too fast, and she feels a little... Faint, and ridiculous for feeling faint. If she had been aware of his intentions then maybe she would have been better prepared, maybe she would have understood a little more, but her head is reeling and she is desperately out of sorts. It's not as though he's simply asked her for dinner or to go out on a date with her, oh, no. This is so much more.
Before she can do or say anything the ring is on her finger - oh, it's on that finger - and shes... Blinking. Staring at it, the foreign placement, as if that's going to make it make sense, until she moves backwards and scrambles, twisting the ring on her finger, feeling the flush of power, shaking her head and moving to slip it back into the box. ]
Gilgamesh, you can't - you can't just ask me to - not like this! I don't love you! I'm very sorry but this isn't... I don't know what you thought I was going to say but I wasn't just going to say yes.
[ The box snaps shut and she holds it, unsure. Her face is flushed and her pulse is rushing even as she stares at him, not sure what to do and certainly not sure about the part of her that had wanted to say yes. Knowing that she would have companionship, that politics might dictate that she would have to get married anyway, that she would be forced to marry someone she might even know to keep herself in some kind of power...
Slowly, hesitantly, her hand drops to his and she shifts forward a little. ]
I just... Why me? Why not? If I could understand maybe I would know what to say or what to do. I had no idea that you even thought this was something that might happen.
[...well, she's making this awfully easy, isn't she? So Gilgamesh just repeats himself:]
"Make of it as much or as little as you'd like."
[He already has the answer he's after, saw it from the moment her eyes sparkled and danced and from that warmth that only comes skin-to-skin, and so doesn't look put out in the slightest. She holds the box, and she is unsure, but that's the clincher, that's the endgame, that's the victory in itself.
She's still holding the box. And that's all he needs from her.
Gilgamesh cocks his head, and compared to her stammering and stumbling, he's perfectly, enviably even.]
Have you forgotten? Or perhaps I simply never said so, but I'm unlike humans. The world we see, the world you see... they're not the same at all, because Servants exist outside of it. What bonds we have are made through oft precarious means, as we do not often know how long we'll even exist in a single place at a single point of time for.
[That much isn't a ruse. It's the truth, or at least a version of it. And with the truth, Gilgamesh slips back into himself slightly. Into the Gilgamesh she admired, and who was genuinely noble, and genuinely fair.]
To put it frankly, I'm more like that ring than I'm like a person. Very valuable, of course, and crafted into all sorts of beautiful shapes, but that is as close to you as I might remain. So keep it close, and do as you will with it. I take no offense. [An honest smile.] Why not you? That's the only answer I have to give. Why should I pick anyone else, but the magus who would face the world and its demons and tell them all, "I can do anything, I am not afraid"?
[ Easy to him, maybe, but it's almost too much for her.
Was she reading too much into it? He had said as little or as much as he liked and courting wasn't the same as marriage, not really. It's a more Victorian ideal, she thinks, the possibility of something more and... Well, why not? Why couldn't she have something more? She didn't love him, no, but she liked him enough and he was handsome. He was soft to her even if she was unsure about how much of that was true and she was measured, balanced in her own regard for him. She couldn't walk that path right now, could she?
He's so composed. It's insufferable. ]
No, I remember. You're a Servant and there are different classes, you have power and you make bonds. You choose people that you respect and you're friends with them and your friendships with them can take a lot of forms, can't they?
[ She swallows, her fingers curling around the box, holding it gently in a soft grip. She does cherish it, what it means, because friendship is one of the most important things in her life. It's a weight, though, and slowly her eyes cast up and gaze over him. ]
I understand why you might pick me, but, Gilgamesh... These are lovely words, they are, but I want to know exactly what you want. No - no poetry or niceties, nothing about being moulded, because you are still a person. I'd like for you to tell me what you want from me. Do you really want me as a wife? Or do you want a magical partner, a friend to train with and share magic? We don't have to - to court or get married for that. I'd be your friend and help you with all the magic I could.
[ Slowly, her hand touches his again. ]
Can you tell me that? Just what you want, from me, in plain terms. I don't want to get all mixed up because I've been assuming things or thinking wrongly. Why not me, that's fine, but...
[In all fairness, the composure chafes slightly when Hermione turns the conversation back around on him. What did he want? Well, he wanted a great many things and wanted to use a great many people to get them, but that's not quite what she's asking. In fact, she's less asking a question and more protecting herself. This is the lionness who has seen her suitor and raises haunches in defense. It is not necessarily a no, but as with anything involving beasts, it could turn very sour very fast.
As with all great yet delicate things, Hermione must be handled carefully. One wrong move will have that box smashed back into his face, and then he's starting over from scratch... and likely in an entirely different venue, thanks to how quickly word spread throughout the Citadel.
Gilgamesh considers a lie. He considers the truth. Ultimately, what he settles for and what he offers her rests somewhere in between. But even if it isn't entirely truthful, it isn't entirely dispassionate, either. For now, he means what he says, at least in part.]
I believe we may help each other to be at peace, together, in that intimate way.
[Gilgamesh will keep her company, stave off loneliness. Hermione will advance him to further power, make gains in throwing Saber down the deepest, darkest well for good. Mutual benefit. Mutual belonging. Mutual peace.
...maybe that actually is the truth. Sometimes Gilgamesh lies so much, he forgets what the truth actually looks like.]
I believe... you understand me. And I understand you. And that we may make strides forward based upon that understanding. [Laughing to himself:] And that I will read to you whenever you like, and tell you stories, so you shall not have reason for sadness ever again, for my Epic is surely the best tale. For we make excellent company, and that is the long and short of what I want.
[And that's not all a lie, either. Part of it, even just a little, had indeed been fun. He'll remember it.]
Edited (I hate typos on tags like these it ruins my jams) 2015-03-31 04:14 (UTC)
[ It seems almost too easy. It's not as if he's promising her love or romance, as if's asking her to be his lover or something that. What he is offering is companionship and a kind of care that's on a level entirely different to what they have before, something stronger, because they work well together and because there is a certain strength about the two of them. He isn't asking for her to love him or to think of him in that way, at least not right now (or so she hopes, anyway, an 'intimate way' could be very platonic) and even if she wasn't certain about the chance of her ever feeling that way she knew it would never be something she would do.
Still. There's a craving, deep in her heart, for that kind of intimacy. To have someone that wants to sit with her and read a book or settle by the fireplace and talk, someone to share her meals with... The last few weeks had been very lonely, everyone doing their own thing, and if it hadn't been for Nico Hermione thinks she would have spent the future of the holiday alone, locked away in her house battling her own sadness and wondering if her heart was going to be capable of surviving this at all.
She wants to believe that this is all he wants, but she's not an idiot, for all that she walks into stupid situations with her hands held up in surrender sometimes. There has to be more here - for as lonely as she thinks he is she is sure there must be someone better for him out there, someone he could genuinely love. Neither of them have mentioned that word aloud yet, dismissing it entirely, but she knows what she wants. She would like to love someone, here, to let that blossom into tenderness and kindness in the best of ways.
Breathing out, her hands find his. ]
Gilgamesh, you're - that's really very nice of you. To offer, I mean. But I'm not sure I'm ready for anything like that, especially not with someone that I'm not in love with.
[ There's a part of her that grips his hands a little tighter, though, cheeks pinked, that betrays how much she might want the companionship he wants. Her smile is still soft and sweet, though, her voice earnest. ]
I'd like to think we understand each other, you know, and we can work together and it will be amazing, but we don't have to rush into - well, I mean, I know that in your world girls get married young but I would make a terrible wife right now. [ And in general, she's sure. ] I want to make you happy too and I'll keep you company, I'll read with you and maybe we can walk together and you can see more of the lion, but - I can't do the rest.
[ Not yet, it hangs on the edge of her tongue like a promise she doesn't dare make. ]
[Not yet is more than good enough. Already this is more than he expected from her, more than he could have ever wanted; even Kirei seemed unsure when first presented with Gilgamesh's offer, but went through with it, anyway. Not yet is more like ask again later as far as Gilgamesh is concerned. Which he will, now that the seed has been planted and he's assured his place as a fixation at the Citadel for some time to come.
Ultimately, marquis is just a pretty title he doesn't really need. What needs is her trust, her commitment, and her cooperation. As long as all of the above follow, he's convinced she'll give him anything. Or rather everything to compliment what he already owns.
When their hands come together, that tension breaks in a lazy grin, and he flops to the side to look at her. As before, with eyes that sparkle and a face that is handsome and lovely and hides all of the truth.
I'll never love anyone again, he vows, even in this pleasant facade. And most especially not you.]
All this talk has me feeling so stiff. There's no need to let me down when I feel higher than ever, so don't worry about things like that. I am the great King who walks a great path, and it winds wherever I please.
[That is an absolute certainty. That she can place her faith in. Regardless of what happens, Gilgamesh continues along the road he's claimed for himself. He stops for nothing and no one. Bringing her hands to his face, he shuts his eyes, content.]
When you wish to walk it with me, I shall always await you from the very beginning to the very end. Remember that.
[ He relaxes and, for a moment, so does she. The tension slips out of her and it's like this was all one long, hilarious joke, that this all came together for him to tease her and bring a flush to her cheeks. It's not that simple, of course, it's not like this is just going to stop or that things are going to just disappear; this is going to be something that weighs on her mind, that follows her from now into the future, and she's going to have to give it some serious thought and consideration.
The fact that Gilgamesh is so relaxed does soothe her and she lifts her hand, brushing it over the ring again, the blood red gemstone and the markers of who they would be, joined together. Her throat feels dry and she nods her head, her eyes lifting to look at him. Of course he would be so lax and dreamy. He's so content and it makes her a little uneasy, as if this was something he had actually expected. ]
You should find someone that will make you happy. I can't promise that will ever be me, Gilgamesh.
[ It's not like there are people that he couldn't turn to. It's only when she feels her fingers still stroking over the ring that she snaps out of it and she shakes her head, gripping at the metal band before she lifts herself up and leans forward. ]
Do you want it back? I didn't agree to your proposal so it doesn't really feel right to keep something like this.
[ She's hesitant. It's beautiful, after all, and she does rather want to keep it. ]
[Another truth, another lie. He's happy with what he's accomplished with Hermione tonight; he's not happy with himself. He's happy with a maybe; he's not happy with someone else's no. He's happy she's here; he's not happy she is too, and not as he remembers.
Gilgamesh pushes as he pleases, but he'd be a fool to push much further here. The die's been cast and it shall fall wherever it may. She knows his answer before she ever thinks to ask again. And most importantly...]
Keep it.
[...she'll hold that box. She'll never stop holding that box in her heart, never stop wishing for what she knows she'll never have with him or anyone else. Hermione is a pretty girl, a talented magus, but a woman doomed. Women like Hermione do not fall in love. They obsess over their duties, and in so doing, forget to attend themselves. Their stations arrest them and never let go, and they live in self-imposed cages to their dying breath.
She will die cold and alone, just as never wished for herself, and in that much, Gilgamesh feels the smallest pang of sympathy.
The arms that open to Hermione are warm and friendly in contrast, enveloping and gracious.]
Let me hold you, just for a while. Hair or fur, [teasingly] I will look after you just the same.
It makes her smile. All of this is a bit strange, a little unsettling, but there's something about him that makes her breathe out and relax. He's promised to teach her, to take care of her, an exchange of power and friendship -- and she's debating how much she can trust herself to be around him without wanting to give in to the urge to have companionship with him.
No one has ever made her feel like she was worth marriage before, after all. Even she and Ron had been complicated, strange, and it twists inside of her and makes her pause, wondering, before she nods her head. It's easy to tuck the ring into her pocket, deep into the depths sewn into her dress, before she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. ]
Thank you, Gilgamesh.
[ The idea of being in his arms, though... She pauses, careful, eyes up and down. It's been a long time since she's curled up with anyone, a long time since she let herself be embraced, especially for something as simple as just companionship. She and Harry fell asleep together once, her eyes damp from her own sadness, and since then it's been a rare occurrence. She breathes out, careful, before she moves forward.
Slowly, ever so slowly, careful and trusting, she lets herself slip into his arms.
He's warm. He's there, and he promises to look after her. Had given her a ring to show it. Had promised her friendship, companionship, had been teaching her... And it was. Easy. Nice. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The ring almost seems to hum with satisfaction when its rightful master studies it, and with even the slightest touch, the garnet glows to life. Glows with life, as he's entrapped himself in that little inset on her little finger for her to treasure always.
And she's such a tiny thing, really, when she draws in for an embrace. So much magical talent and latent ability, but he could take it all back in an instant with a snap of her neck. Cut her down in one keen slice. Pretty in simplicity, because all men bled simply and died exactly the same way.]
Hermione.
[Gilgamesh's voice comes with that same softness. He is a king of many talents, mimicry chief among them. He can play with her. In fact, he must to get what he wants.]
There's much good to be done in this world. Let me do it with you. Alongside you, there's much we can accomplish. Order can yet be restored. [With Ea, chopping apart all this misery.] I may yet prove it to you. Upon my name, I, Gilgamesh, King of Heroes...
[Leaning in, he mutters the very last piece beside the shell of her ear:]
...so pledge myself to you, however you see fit, to achieve these great things.
no subject
Still, she leans back and lets her smile soften, her eyes exploring his face a moment before her name catches her attention. She had been drifting to look at the ring again, to feel the twitch of it's power and the way it seemed to call for her, like it really was a physical expression of what their friendship was. She's about to go for it again, to lift it up and place it on her finger, but she knows that something is happening.
The tension between them seems to explode and she swallows, her gaze flicking up to him. ]
Gilga...
[ Oh. His breath is warm on her ear and there's a strange chill that runs down her, something intense and unfamiliar. She swallows, her eyes feeling trapped on his face as her arms slide down, resting on his shoulder before she stumbles back. It sounds as intense as it feels and she has to blink a few times - because she doesn't understand. ]
I mean, um, Gilgamesh. I don't - I don't really understand what you're asking. You know you're my friend and I'll help you as much as I can. You don't have to pledge yourself to me at all to accomplish that, really. Just being here is more than enough.
[ All of it comes out in a rush of nervous, tumbling words. That's what he meant, right? It seems impossible that he means - well, the rest. ]
no subject
[Some words require careful calculation, some requests require very particular turns of phrase, but here Gilgamesh just states it outright. He does take care to pull himself away, to unwind from her as she stumbles and leans back to grant her adequate space. But that's that, and there's not a ounce of doubt in what he's said nor any hesitation flickering through his eyes. He appears calmer than ever, composed from the very moment she walked in.
At the very least, any questions of friendship have been answered. Reaching for his wine—curiously now refilled, as if by magic—he sips away at it and studies her, lets the grandeur of the moment sink in.
It's alright if she doesn't understand it. This, that, the other thing. He'll tell her all she needs to know, soothe any doubts and chase away any fears. A marchioness could be very powerful, but with a marquis infinitely more so at her back... well, could it even be said that he lied at all?
Together they could destroy this world, tear it down, and rebuild it. In light of their combined power, the possible was very much possible, the unthinkable turned into reality. Such was the power of the King of Heroes who held a sword that could cleave through a planet and through life itself.
Nothing more need be said. Gilgamesh just waits.]
no subject
She doesn't know what to say, not for a very long time. The idea is such a strange one, even after almost two years here in the Drabworld. She'd had conversations with others about love, of course, even talked about the debate of love in this world versus the reality of loving someone at home, having to give up on them, but she hadn't been entirely prepared for it.
It's not like she had walked into this with the expectation that this might happen. She had, at first, thought that Gilgamesh was a pig-headed, arrogant fool, and maybe he was, still, at times, a little beyond himself, but history had always said that was a bit of a fault of kings, one of their major falling points. Getting to see the softer side of him had been a bit of a relief, to think that her choice to trust him with a compass, to be at his side as a lion, wasn't so foolish. Her lessons with her, the magic they had shared, had only reinforced that.
But this? Courting, a sort of... Proposal, a definite proposal, was the last thing she had expected. She hadn't had any idea that Gilgamesh felt anything like that, as kind as he had been with her, and she had told him that she wasn't really going to just throw herself at people, that she was waiting for love, that's why she's not married... All the thoughts scream around in her mind as she stares at him for a long time, gaping like a fish, before her mouth snaps shut and she manages to find her breathing all of a sudden. ]
But - I --
[ Of course, the idea that she is being used doesn't really occur to her. She has no reason to distrust him yet, no one has warned her otherwise and all the servants seem to adore him. She doesn't understand any of this and her hands move away from him, her eyes searching him as if his eyes and his face would reveal all the answers. ]
Why? I didn't think you or I were - that we felt anything like that.
no subject
Now, Gilgamesh can relax. There's nothing more to do than push her along the waves that guide her straight into his den. And wasn't it funny, wasn't it sad? She's already here, anyway, and doesn't even realize what here actually means.
Taking the ring from its resting place, he slips it onto her finger and bends his lips for a kiss upon the gem. True to his claim, it glows with recognition, sends warm waves from skin straight to flesh. This is Gilgamesh's energy—Gilgamesh himself surging through her and offering support from within.
He lets the moment be, lets it ripen, draws it out, then looks back up. His face indeed reveals all the answers, the only one: I want you.
And he says not a word. Actions and airs have given her everything.]
no subject
Before she can do or say anything the ring is on her finger - oh, it's on that finger - and shes... Blinking. Staring at it, the foreign placement, as if that's going to make it make sense, until she moves backwards and scrambles, twisting the ring on her finger, feeling the flush of power, shaking her head and moving to slip it back into the box. ]
Gilgamesh, you can't - you can't just ask me to - not like this! I don't love you! I'm very sorry but this isn't... I don't know what you thought I was going to say but I wasn't just going to say yes.
[ The box snaps shut and she holds it, unsure. Her face is flushed and her pulse is rushing even as she stares at him, not sure what to do and certainly not sure about the part of her that had wanted to say yes. Knowing that she would have companionship, that politics might dictate that she would have to get married anyway, that she would be forced to marry someone she might even know to keep herself in some kind of power...
Slowly, hesitantly, her hand drops to his and she shifts forward a little. ]
I just... Why me? Why not? If I could understand maybe I would know what to say or what to do. I had no idea that you even thought this was something that might happen.
no subject
"Make of it as much or as little as you'd like."
[He already has the answer he's after, saw it from the moment her eyes sparkled and danced and from that warmth that only comes skin-to-skin, and so doesn't look put out in the slightest. She holds the box, and she is unsure, but that's the clincher, that's the endgame, that's the victory in itself.
She's still holding the box. And that's all he needs from her.
Gilgamesh cocks his head, and compared to her stammering and stumbling, he's perfectly, enviably even.]
Have you forgotten? Or perhaps I simply never said so, but I'm unlike humans. The world we see, the world you see... they're not the same at all, because Servants exist outside of it. What bonds we have are made through oft precarious means, as we do not often know how long we'll even exist in a single place at a single point of time for.
[That much isn't a ruse. It's the truth, or at least a version of it. And with the truth, Gilgamesh slips back into himself slightly. Into the Gilgamesh she admired, and who was genuinely noble, and genuinely fair.]
To put it frankly, I'm more like that ring than I'm like a person. Very valuable, of course, and crafted into all sorts of beautiful shapes, but that is as close to you as I might remain. So keep it close, and do as you will with it. I take no offense. [An honest smile.] Why not you? That's the only answer I have to give. Why should I pick anyone else, but the magus who would face the world and its demons and tell them all, "I can do anything, I am not afraid"?
no subject
Was she reading too much into it? He had said as little or as much as he liked and courting wasn't the same as marriage, not really. It's a more Victorian ideal, she thinks, the possibility of something more and... Well, why not? Why couldn't she have something more? She didn't love him, no, but she liked him enough and he was handsome. He was soft to her even if she was unsure about how much of that was true and she was measured, balanced in her own regard for him. She couldn't walk that path right now, could she?
He's so composed. It's insufferable. ]
No, I remember. You're a Servant and there are different classes, you have power and you make bonds. You choose people that you respect and you're friends with them and your friendships with them can take a lot of forms, can't they?
[ She swallows, her fingers curling around the box, holding it gently in a soft grip. She does cherish it, what it means, because friendship is one of the most important things in her life. It's a weight, though, and slowly her eyes cast up and gaze over him. ]
I understand why you might pick me, but, Gilgamesh... These are lovely words, they are, but I want to know exactly what you want. No - no poetry or niceties, nothing about being moulded, because you are still a person. I'd like for you to tell me what you want from me. Do you really want me as a wife? Or do you want a magical partner, a friend to train with and share magic? We don't have to - to court or get married for that. I'd be your friend and help you with all the magic I could.
[ Slowly, her hand touches his again. ]
Can you tell me that? Just what you want, from me, in plain terms. I don't want to get all mixed up because I've been assuming things or thinking wrongly. Why not me, that's fine, but...
[ She's at a loss. ]
no subject
As with all great yet delicate things, Hermione must be handled carefully. One wrong move will have that box smashed back into his face, and then he's starting over from scratch... and likely in an entirely different venue, thanks to how quickly word spread throughout the Citadel.
Gilgamesh considers a lie. He considers the truth. Ultimately, what he settles for and what he offers her rests somewhere in between. But even if it isn't entirely truthful, it isn't entirely dispassionate, either. For now, he means what he says, at least in part.]
I believe we may help each other to be at peace, together, in that intimate way.
[Gilgamesh will keep her company, stave off loneliness. Hermione will advance him to further power, make gains in throwing Saber down the deepest, darkest well for good. Mutual benefit. Mutual belonging. Mutual peace.
...maybe that actually is the truth. Sometimes Gilgamesh lies so much, he forgets what the truth actually looks like.]
I believe... you understand me. And I understand you. And that we may make strides forward based upon that understanding. [Laughing to himself:] And that I will read to you whenever you like, and tell you stories, so you shall not have reason for sadness ever again, for my Epic is surely the best tale. For we make excellent company, and that is the long and short of what I want.
[And that's not all a lie, either. Part of it, even just a little, had indeed been fun. He'll remember it.]
no subject
Still. There's a craving, deep in her heart, for that kind of intimacy. To have someone that wants to sit with her and read a book or settle by the fireplace and talk, someone to share her meals with... The last few weeks had been very lonely, everyone doing their own thing, and if it hadn't been for Nico Hermione thinks she would have spent the future of the holiday alone, locked away in her house battling her own sadness and wondering if her heart was going to be capable of surviving this at all.
She wants to believe that this is all he wants, but she's not an idiot, for all that she walks into stupid situations with her hands held up in surrender sometimes. There has to be more here - for as lonely as she thinks he is she is sure there must be someone better for him out there, someone he could genuinely love. Neither of them have mentioned that word aloud yet, dismissing it entirely, but she knows what she wants. She would like to love someone, here, to let that blossom into tenderness and kindness in the best of ways.
Breathing out, her hands find his. ]
Gilgamesh, you're - that's really very nice of you. To offer, I mean. But I'm not sure I'm ready for anything like that, especially not with someone that I'm not in love with.
[ There's a part of her that grips his hands a little tighter, though, cheeks pinked, that betrays how much she might want the companionship he wants. Her smile is still soft and sweet, though, her voice earnest. ]
I'd like to think we understand each other, you know, and we can work together and it will be amazing, but we don't have to rush into - well, I mean, I know that in your world girls get married young but I would make a terrible wife right now. [ And in general, she's sure. ] I want to make you happy too and I'll keep you company, I'll read with you and maybe we can walk together and you can see more of the lion, but - I can't do the rest.
[ Not yet, it hangs on the edge of her tongue like a promise she doesn't dare make. ]
no subject
Ultimately, marquis is just a pretty title he doesn't really need. What needs is her trust, her commitment, and her cooperation. As long as all of the above follow, he's convinced she'll give him anything. Or rather everything to compliment what he already owns.
When their hands come together, that tension breaks in a lazy grin, and he flops to the side to look at her. As before, with eyes that sparkle and a face that is handsome and lovely and hides all of the truth.
I'll never love anyone again, he vows, even in this pleasant facade. And most especially not you.]
All this talk has me feeling so stiff. There's no need to let me down when I feel higher than ever, so don't worry about things like that. I am the great King who walks a great path, and it winds wherever I please.
[That is an absolute certainty. That she can place her faith in. Regardless of what happens, Gilgamesh continues along the road he's claimed for himself. He stops for nothing and no one. Bringing her hands to his face, he shuts his eyes, content.]
When you wish to walk it with me, I shall always await you from the very beginning to the very end. Remember that.
no subject
The fact that Gilgamesh is so relaxed does soothe her and she lifts her hand, brushing it over the ring again, the blood red gemstone and the markers of who they would be, joined together. Her throat feels dry and she nods her head, her eyes lifting to look at him. Of course he would be so lax and dreamy. He's so content and it makes her a little uneasy, as if this was something he had actually expected. ]
You should find someone that will make you happy. I can't promise that will ever be me, Gilgamesh.
[ It's not like there are people that he couldn't turn to. It's only when she feels her fingers still stroking over the ring that she snaps out of it and she shakes her head, gripping at the metal band before she lifts herself up and leans forward. ]
Do you want it back? I didn't agree to your proposal so it doesn't really feel right to keep something like this.
[ She's hesitant. It's beautiful, after all, and she does rather want to keep it. ]
no subject
[Another truth, another lie. He's happy with what he's accomplished with Hermione tonight; he's not happy with himself. He's happy with a maybe; he's not happy with someone else's no. He's happy she's here; he's not happy she is too, and not as he remembers.
Gilgamesh pushes as he pleases, but he'd be a fool to push much further here. The die's been cast and it shall fall wherever it may. She knows his answer before she ever thinks to ask again. And most importantly...]
Keep it.
[...she'll hold that box. She'll never stop holding that box in her heart, never stop wishing for what she knows she'll never have with him or anyone else. Hermione is a pretty girl, a talented magus, but a woman doomed. Women like Hermione do not fall in love. They obsess over their duties, and in so doing, forget to attend themselves. Their stations arrest them and never let go, and they live in self-imposed cages to their dying breath.
She will die cold and alone, just as never wished for herself, and in that much, Gilgamesh feels the smallest pang of sympathy.
The arms that open to Hermione are warm and friendly in contrast, enveloping and gracious.]
Let me hold you, just for a while. Hair or fur, [teasingly] I will look after you just the same.
no subject
It makes her smile. All of this is a bit strange, a little unsettling, but there's something about him that makes her breathe out and relax. He's promised to teach her, to take care of her, an exchange of power and friendship -- and she's debating how much she can trust herself to be around him without wanting to give in to the urge to have companionship with him.
No one has ever made her feel like she was worth marriage before, after all. Even she and Ron had been complicated, strange, and it twists inside of her and makes her pause, wondering, before she nods her head. It's easy to tuck the ring into her pocket, deep into the depths sewn into her dress, before she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. ]
Thank you, Gilgamesh.
[ The idea of being in his arms, though... She pauses, careful, eyes up and down. It's been a long time since she's curled up with anyone, a long time since she let herself be embraced, especially for something as simple as just companionship. She and Harry fell asleep together once, her eyes damp from her own sadness, and since then it's been a rare occurrence. She breathes out, careful, before she moves forward.
Slowly, ever so slowly, careful and trusting, she lets herself slip into his arms.
He's warm. He's there, and he promises to look after her. Had given her a ring to show it. Had promised her friendship, companionship, had been teaching her... And it was. Easy. Nice. ]
Just for a little while.