[ 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. ]
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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.