westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

Ah.

In feelings for each other.

Wrathion is glad to currently be in a shape where facial expressions are less easily read.

"We have not discussed it at length."

They have discussed it, yes, just... not at length.

She gives him a very unimpressed look, eyebrows raised and all. "How much at length do you need to discuss it? I thought it is a matter of having or not having feelings."

Size Prince.

The desire to sink into the ground is overwhelming.

Being particularly large makes it keener, he thinks. He feels horrendously... visible. Studied.

"There are complications, were we to return home."

Anduin is committing himself to extensive difficulties, and he may prefer to keep things... private to avoid that. How long they'd manage that he cannot say, when Anduin will be under pressure in so many directions.

What with Anduin being the King, and Wrathion being the... dragon who did a bad thing. She doesn't have the details, and truth be told she doesn't need the details to get the measure of the man. And the dragon.

"So? Take advantage of the here and now, then."

She makes it sound so terribly easy. Is he complicating matters? Or is she oversimplifying?

"Would it not hurt more to have something only to lose it?"

A genuine question. He has... never cared for someone this way before, never had to consider this sort of thing, and Wrathion has always looked to guard himself from pain. This seems like potential pain for both of them.

She considers that for a moment, and says: "I suppose it depends on the kind of object you're thinking of."

She gives him a rueful little look. "But, Anduin isn't a thing, he's a person. Any relationship has a chance to hurt... Just like yearning for someone can hurt." She shrugs, and takes her wand out.

"Depends on your immediate priorities. You're here, and it's hard to tell how long for. So you might as well."

Just like she might as well make this place comfortable. Mid-rant, she realised that it's a damp and unpleasant place, and she has things in her bag that can be transfigured into a cushion, and then enlarged.

Not enough things that she could part with, so maybe she'll try it with the pebbles here.

She manages three cushions.

Wrathion's priorities are often selfish. In his heart, his desire is to have any scrap of happiness he can for as long as he can.

He watches her transfigure things, uneasiness still gnawing at him. The cushions do, at least, make the area feel less cave-like on the surface.

"I arrived without him. One of us may leave without the other."

Then, he supposes, he'd be back in the 'yearning' area of things. Still, it had been easier to keep all these feelings in a box when it had felt impossible. Now the possibility, and the pain of consequence, all loom over him.

He lets out a sigh, made more dramatic by the sheer size of the creature doing the exhaling, and then pushes to sit up a little more.

"Regardless, I should be thanking you for travelling here. You did so at risk to yourself. Know that your efforts are appreciated."

The sigh is indeed more dramatic. With the size of body, and the size of the cave, the breath almost acts like a breeze that stirs her cloak a little.

She pauses and looks at him. Of course she feels a little more than sympathy here.

There is nobody here left who comes from her world. Nobody here she could leave this world with.

"That was a very formal gratitude. I feel very thanked."

She sighs, and looks down at one of the cushions. A river pebble turned into a blue cushion that would fit into Ravenclaw tower; she has no way of knowing how long it will last, but she still wants to try it. So she enlarges the cushion, once and then twice more on top of that, until it's the size of a bed.

"Try that for me?"

Somehow her reply makes him feel as if he's done something wrong. Should he not be thanking her? He shifts his weight between his two front feet, uneasy, and considers the enlarged cushion.

It's a useful trick, he wishes he could conjure cushions quite honestly.

Stepping forward, he tests his weight carefully with one foot on the cushion -- leaning down to inspect it. A moment later his other foot joins it, and he slowly circles the cushion before settling down.

"Thank you," he repeats, and considers her thoughtfully. "You have a kind heart."

Oh my god, thinks Hermione, witnessing a grown dragon turn in slow circles on an oversized cushion, like a cat. It's a delightful thing to witness, a spot of sunlight in the otherwise grim reality they're living in.

She doesn't make it a habit to tease people, or even prank people. Those are either Harry, Ron or the twins' talents. She usually is adept at convincing people to a. listen to her or b. do their homework properly. But she's been clinging to any form of possitive experience here, and as it stands (or loafs), watching a dragon turn a circle on a big pillow and settle down on it is the brightest thing right now.

She's so delighted that his compliment, to the nature of her heart, still catches her mid-grin.

"Oh, shush," she waves him off, like a grown up who can totally handle compliments. "What are friends for."

She is smiling oddly at him. Why is she smiling? She is... pleased to see her pillow being used, perhaps? He tilts his head, considering her, but ultimately lets it slide.

"I have limited experience with that hypothetical."

What are, in fact, friends for? Wrathion cannot strictly say. He is not someone who has made friends. He has worked, researched, travelled, survived despite the efforts of others. When would he have had time for friends?

A little nod here. "They're for a lot of things, I suppose," she elaborates, wandering over to an unoccupied cushion and taking a seat herself. Just a little rest, before she heads off to the village again.

"To challenge you, to comfort you, to support you, to bring you up when you're down. Metaphorically, I mean. To cheer you up." She weighs the merits of telling him, and decides ah, what the heck: "For instance, you just circled the cushion like my cat used to. It cheered me up to see it."

Hmmm. The comparison to a cat is, of course, noteworthy (he is not a cat he is a magnificent and powerful dragon) but there's something else here too.

"You are in need of this?"

Cheering up. She's unhappy? Her curse is broken, which is clearly a sign things are improving. What else might have her upset? He doesn't... believe he has done anything to cause such a thing?

... Recently?

"Aren't we all?" She doesn't understand the confusion, or really recognises it, because she puts a bit too much faith in Wrathion being able to read human emotions better. Give her time.

"I mean, it's pretty shitty here, in general. Everyone's either miserable or hunting monsters, there's no chocolate, I haven't had a moment to myself since Taravast, and I miss my cat."

There, at the last admission, her voice cracks a little bit, and she lets out a pitiful little sniffle. Crookshanks was amazing.

All these things are true, of course. Wrathion wonders if he is simply used to the constant chaos of Azeroth. Endless death and war. This has been a struggle, but on the grand scale of things it isn't quite as bad.

He's not at all sure how to help.

"You may stay here with me," he offers, "if the quiet will suit you better than the village."

There may be brief bursts of peril, but otherwise the cave is at least quiet.

She doesn't manage to hide the bitter little smile, even before she looks up towards the dragon's head.

"You've met me, right? I've never been able to run away from trouble..."

It's a tempting offer, it is. "Maybe for a few more minutes." She could do with some silence like that.

Wrathion hesitates, uncertain, then pushes up -- moves closer to Hermione and carefully resettles himself closer, a half-moon curled around her cushion. Close enough she can benefit from the heat radiating off his scales, not quite close enough to touch in case she might not want that. It feels as if her emotional state is.. delicate. Drawing too much attention to that may disturb it, cause it to spill over in a way neither of them are quite suited to handle.

He can offer this, at least. Warmth, closeness.

"I do not think you would be running away," he offers, "I appear to be attracting trouble to my person. You could argue that by staying, you would be embracing it."

It's strange, she just sits there, still as she can be, curious to see what his shuffling around is leading to - and when he's done, he resettles and he's effectively curled up around her like a protective shield of sorts. It does all sorts of things to her, like forming a knot in her throat that might possibly be tears, and makes her pulse race.

Trouble has a habit of following me, Harry would've said, and in this moment Wrathion reminds her a little bit of Harry.

There's a conversation she has had with Wei Wuxian, following the realisation that Lily Evans had gone home, that clung to her. About how the connections built here, the bonds forged here, would not be forever; simultaneously, about how still building them made one stronger for it, and enriched the soul. So yes, as much as Wrathion bringing up the fact that he and Anduin were not guaranteed to return at the same time, or remember every moment spent here has brought some conflicting thoughts up in Hermione's mind too, there's something to be said about a massive dragon displaying such a soft side that he'd try to offer her comfort.

So, even if it's not pragmatic, she's going to be his friend here, not just his ally.

"You're like a furnace," she murmurs, under her breath, and leans in to press her forehead against the side of his head, which is as much of a hug as she can give him considering how his head is the size of her entire body this close. "Thank you."

Anduin has been doing his best to keep Wrathion well-stocked with everything he can during his time on the run from the Beastmaster -- from the village, from the shrine. It has not been easy. Wrathion's cave is not easy to locate, the fox spirits near the shrine are hardly cooperative, not to mention the feral creatures in the forest he's had to face down every time he's set foot inside it, and the items need to be replaced every three days. It's troublesome, tiring, and if Anduin has to face down another wild hog frankly it will be too soon.

It isn't that he has been asked to do this specifically. Wrathion would certainly not have him trouble himself on his account. But he has promised that he will keep him from falling under the Beastmaster's thrall, and if this is what it takes...

"Wrathion?"

Anduin stumbles into the cave, slightly dishevelled from his latest travels and perhaps more than a little disgruntled from his latest encounter with the forest wildlife.

"Wrathion?" he calls out, raising a hand to shove his hair out of his face, casting around in the dim light of the cave for a black dragon as his eyes fight to adjust from the sunlight. "Are you-- Oh."

Anduin freezes in place. Ah. Yes, he is there. And it would seem that he is not alone. Curled up around each other as the dragon and the witch seem to be, Anduin feels rather awkwardly as if he is interrupting a private moment, here.

It is hard to offer an embrace to a small mortal when you are so very large, and he can feel the well of emotion building up in Hermione. It makes him wonder if this is the right thing to do -- he'd wanted to make her feel better not worse, but the way she thanks him suggests it isn't all bad. He unfurls one wing, gently stretches it out to lay around her a little like a blanket, then senses something -- ah. Anduin is here!

That is, in truth, good. Anduin is much better at handling sensitive things than he is.

He nudges Hermione gently with his nose, then lifts his head to study Anduin.

"Anduin," he intones, "Hermione is here for her duel."

She is not, but he's trying to lighten the mood. He's just having fun, he is allowed that much he thinks.

There's a wing and all, and this is her life right now. Even if she wanted to share this story with anyone back home, who'd believe her if she told them she once kind of, sort of, potentially cuddled a dragon?

She is nudged right on time to look up and find Anduin standing at the entrance to the cave, looking awkward and she - feels very guilty, even though she wasn't really doing anything untoward!

"Anduin - " she starts to say, and at that moment Wrathion intones Hermione is here for her duel, and she lets out a snort of laughter, and swats the big dumb dragon head away.

"Don't listen to him, I'm doing no such thing. Wrathion just likes to feel important." She gets up from her cushion quickly, because she's not going to cuddle up to the dragon now. Poor Anduin.

"I brought some stones from the temple," is her explanation, pointing to them.

For her duel.

Anduin makes something of a face at that. Honestly, Wrathion. Although the joke does make him feel better about whatever it is he's stumbled in on. Even if he still does feel as if he's interrupted either way, with how quickly Hermione has extracted herself.

He flashes a smile at her commentary, glancing aside at the dragon as he replies, "I'm certain it won't be the last we hear of it. Both of us deciding to marry ourselves off to him on the same night? He cannot help himself."

Anduin grows slightly more awkward at the mention of the stones, though.

"Yes, of course," he says, moving to set down his pack, deliberately avoiding the mention of having just toiled through the forest to fetch some himself. "That was very kind of you, Hermione. I see you've been redecorating as well?"

He nods towards the cushions they'd both been curled up on until a moment ago, with the twist of his lips.

"You doubt my importance?" Truly, how rude. He pushes to his feet, stretching out his front legs then his back as much as he can in the limited space. "The cushions are appreciated. The cave is lacking in comforts. You made it here unscathed?"

Anduin was not chased by anything? Did not find himself locked into any battle? The area is not, after all, safe -- and Anduin would brush off his own concerns until the last minute. Much easier to prompt him upfront.

That stretch though... Anduin is still getting used to Wrathion in this shape, and he is unable to help the way he is equal parts fascinated and bemused by the dragon's behavior for that matter as well.

He cannot help but smile softly at the question, shrugging slightly as he does.

"I was not followed," he replies. Which is not to say that he did not encounter some troubles on the way, but there is no real cause for worry.

It is not, perhaps, exactly answering the question Wrathion had asked. But he is here in one piece and he -- they -- are in no real immediate danger. This is equally important to point out. Right?

That's fine, because Hermione for her part can't help but stare in continued amusement as Wrathion stretches, her head tilted ust slightly. The men might have their own little conversation - she'll give them enough privacy for that - but there is something she can answer.

The redecorating.

"The cushions won't last forever, my transfiguration spells aren't as reliable here as they are in my world, but..." She turns her gaze to Anduin, amusement still pulling the corners of her lips into a smile. "He was sitting like an overgrown, extremely uncomfortable cat."

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