[ Hermione doesn't know what to do with the information when it's laid bare in front of her. She hesitates because she's afraid, and she turns her head to look at Tamamo with an uncertainty she can't hide.
The fear she feels isn't towards her Caster, not really. It's the memory of a great, blond King, a King of Heroes, who was meant to protect her and almost murdered her. Who would have killed her friend. Who would have betrayed her quite easily, and who's love she now doubts in the blackest, cruellest way, the thing she has been dwelling on for far too long.
It's not Tamamo's fault. Hermione is scarred by Gilgamesh, by Harry, by the people she cared about and loved. It settles in her chest, and she breathes out quietly before she looks up at Tamamo, trying not to let on how nervous she is. ]
Do you intend to kill me?
[ She says it bluntly, as if she's used to the idea of someone wanting her dead - and, unsurprisingly, she is. ]
no subject
The fear she feels isn't towards her Caster, not really. It's the memory of a great, blond King, a King of Heroes, who was meant to protect her and almost murdered her. Who would have killed her friend. Who would have betrayed her quite easily, and who's love she now doubts in the blackest, cruellest way, the thing she has been dwelling on for far too long.
It's not Tamamo's fault. Hermione is scarred by Gilgamesh, by Harry, by the people she cared about and loved. It settles in her chest, and she breathes out quietly before she looks up at Tamamo, trying not to let on how nervous she is. ]
Do you intend to kill me?
[ She says it bluntly, as if she's used to the idea of someone wanting her dead - and, unsurprisingly, she is. ]