![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
ic inbox/voicemail
"Hello, Hermione Granger here. I must be busy, so please leave a message. Thank you very much!"
(text, voice, video, action;
locket, compass, bone charm, letter, owl)
"Hello, Hermione Granger here. I must be busy, so please leave a message. Thank you very much!"
(text, voice, video, action;
locket, compass, bone charm, letter, owl)
no subject
[ And it's true. If she had been any less of a smart witch, any less proud in her abilities, she's sure his eyes wouldn't have stayed on her for long. Her hand rises, brushing away her tears even as she swallows them back. It's pathetic, really, how upset she is over this, her sadness and his mingling together to make her ache, but she has to hold her ground. He has hurt her, he has made her cry, he made her believe and then ripped it all from her.
It isn't about Hermione Granger. It's about Hermione Granger's power, and she was an idiot for believing otherwise. He had taken every chance to reminder her of what her magic was, that she was magus, that she wasn't simply a human.
Does she want him to have a way back? To have all the things that he wants? Of course. She wants him to be happy, in her own stupid, selfish way, the way she wants for all her friends, past and present. Is she willing to give up her own happiness for that, to give herself to him and ignore all the warnings? She isn't sure, and that is what makes her silent for a very long time. ]
You don't love me.
[ It comes out with a laugh, hoarse and almost sadly bitter, before she takes a deep breath. ]
You can't just tell me that you chose me and expect me to think it's an honour. I'm not the type of girl to be overwhelmed with the idea of marrying a King and being a queen. I just wanted to go to school and learn about magic, graduate and help people, but then I was trapped in the middle of a war and then I came here. I don't want to get married, not right now, certainly not to someone who just wants my power, and we don't have to do that for me to help you. If you really want my help, really think that I can help you, then I'll do it. I'll do what I can to help you help your friend and find a way for you to get back.
[ But it will be on her terms, with Dorian at her side and her heart firmly locked away. ]
Gilgamesh... There's a reason they're called impossible, you know.
no subject
He will have his hide for this. He should've run him through, should've taken his heart. He should take hers, too, for forcing him to such pathetic levels of groveling.
One thing is for certain: he is not done with her yet. They are not done with each other. She will weep and regret and wish to forget but she won't, she'll remember, and she'll keep holding onto that box. Onto that small wish that someone will love her someday beyond what she is rather than who.
But it won't be Gilgamesh and it won't be anyone else here in this awful world.]
They're called impossible because you've all eternity to chase them.
[The fire on his tongue dies with that last line. Gilgamesh deflates. What more could even be said? Already he's moving on from this, recalculating, reassessing. They're over and yet not at the same time. Fated to each other even as they seek to break apart.]
Keep the ring. I will not accept it back from you. I fulfilled my end of the arrangement. [But despite himself, despite everything:] I still wish to see you again.
no subject
[ She isn't sure when the best time to see him would be. The Citadel itself knows she's been suffering, that Dorian has come to see her more often than ever since that day they returned home covered in blood - and no one had dared ask who it belonged to, not after Adela's body had been found and laid to rest. She knows that people whisper about her all the more now, the scarred, scared Marchioness that has taken to her rooms and wakes in the night with dreams she refuses to talk about.
It would be strange for her to entirely dismiss her friendship with Gilgamesh so quickly, sparking more and more rumours. She's learning about what it means to be in charge, to have a public image, and she has to accept that.
Finding her voice, allowing it to be more confident, as if she really is the one giving him orders, his Marchioness and Mistress, she sits up, standing, walking over to hover under her lance. Her fingers brush it gently as she speaks, absent in her link to him. ]
We can still meet for lessons and to talk, if you like. Not in your room, not for a little while, if you don't mind. I need to clear my head before things get back to... Normal.
[ What is normal now? Murder, death? Betrayal? It feels like it, in this world, in this place, cut off from all the things she knew. Her hand drops from the lance and she sighs softly. She's hurt, but she still has the warmth inside of her to be kind to him, to want to help him, even as she keeps a part of herself distant and out of his reach. ]
I hope you'll keep your gifts too, and that you'll use them. I, um. I really do hope you can figure this out, Gilgamesh, and that... That you find a way to be happy.
no subject
Don't take it down. It was ours. It was, I did make that for you, I did not deceive...
[Oh, but none of that matters now. He's starting to babble and starting to slip. His claws are dug in so deeply that she won't ever be free of him, this stands as his sole consolation through all of this, but he's losing himself to that same madness he spoke of again. Maybe it wasn't such a joke after all. Maybe it wasn't such a clever stretch of the truth.
Maybe the Grail really was devouring him, little by little, even worlds away.
He senses that kindness, latches onto more from selfishness and need than any clever move. He's out of cleverness for the day. Out of it for awhile, most likely.]
It was me you hung on your wall all this time. Me who you gazed upon in times of doubt. Me who you trusted. Don't forget that, Hermione.
[...Gilgamesh hangs up first. He can't take any more of this.]