westwhere | (no subject)

Objectify him?

He considers that a long moment, and his lips faintly twitch with suppressed amused.

"I chose this form to be appealing."

So, in that sense, objectifying it doesn't bother him. He made an active choice to be perilously handsome, so in a way she's simply appreciating the artistry of his work. Isn't appreciating art important?

The lowered gaze lasts precisely three seconds before she glances up and witnesses him with his back to her, clearly untying his robe. She clears her throat, letting her head lean back against the edge of the spring again and closing her eyes.

"Yes, me too," she admits. The irony, really. "Can you tell me when you're in? I don't mean to make you feel unwelcome, please do come in and all, but I...have yet to join in on the whole doing this part naked."

It's important to clarify that it's not like she's bothered by his company at all, because Wrathion had misunderstood her that way too. And clearly they're both familiar with inns with hot springs.

She opens her mouth to protest at that amused twitch of his lips, and immediately snaps it shut. Bristles, like a wet cat. "Yes, well," she says, with an uppity little sniff and a nod his way.

"Goal accomplished."

Will you let the girl have an award for most underhanded compliment of the year?

He'll take it. Wrathion allows the pleased smile to pull at his lips, moving closer to her through the water now.

"I'm glad it pleases you," he says. Although what his reaction would have been if she hadn't is unclear. It has been his form for some time now, he's already rather use to it. "Most of us pick an appearance we commonly use when young. The ceremony is referred to as a visage day, I suppose you might consider it a coming of age ceremony. It does not have to be a human visage."

She as, he is quite sure, curious how it works. Perhaps this information well help her understand more what he means when he says he chose the form.

Nakedness didn't bother Daenerys. She was used to such things, especially with women. Stripping from her leathers, she slipped into the water, soaking in the heat. There was a small sigh of relief than of disappointment. It wasn't as warm as she preferred, but it would serve to ease her nerves.

The young witch seemed less comfortable with such things, having fashioned some sort of bathing suit. Perhaps Daenaery's current state would be uncomfortable? The idea never crossed her mind and she could only smile a bit shyly, running her hand over her silver hair, now grown to a pixie cut.

"How are you?

She draws her knees to her chest under the water, perched near the more shallow edge of the hot spring, water reaching up to her chin now, and watches him approach. Information is given, and it is...interesting, to be sure. Live your truth and all, Wrathion. Apparently said truth includes and unfairly fit body.

She wonders if that was also part of the visage day. If he, in dragon form, thought to himself I'm going to be so hot it's going to make people uncomfortable, and this was the result.

Of course, what actually comes out from her mouth is: "I used to have buckteeth, and I break every brush I've bought."

It's a convoluted, roundabout way to say they're not the same, not to point out the obvious, but also - "You're intimidating."

Take three: she's getting used to it. People use these springs naked, and Hermione does not, and that is that. If anyone has something to say about why she's continuing to wear her shift, who isn't actually employed by the inn and with power to ban her from using the hot springs, she'll carry on as she is.

For her own sense of calm, she closes her eyes every time she hears someone else approach now, and only opens when she has heard the splashing of water long enough to think they're in. Or whenever they speak, which in this case Danaerys does. Thank god.

"Oh - hello," she greets, opening her eyes and directing a smile her way. "Honestly, better now that I've been here a while, but otherwise exhausted." She gestures to her own head, tilting her head with curiosity. "Your hair..." The underlying question is what happened to it.

She, of course, hadn't even considered what might happen if she were to try to fight these things, but suddenly she's doing just that when she gets pulled away from what could have been a very unfortunate situation for poor Vi. She's too confused about suddenly being the one 'rescued', and squints at the mention of compulsion.

Remembering that she was in the middle of a chore, Vi glances to where she'd left the collection of firewood before...shrugging it off. She chopped it and got some inside, didn't she?

She will, however, pull her arm free once they round the corner, not used to being grabbed by strangers. Even pretty ones.

"What do you think they were going to make you do?"

He doesn't look particularly surprised by this information.

"I wanted to be intimidating."

So, in that sense, mission accomplished. Not to her, of course. He hadn't had her in mind when he first chose the visage. Still, he hadn't been aiming for something approachable like Kalecgos or Chromie. In a way, it's a blessing he's still a step down from Onyxia: she'd chosen her form specifically to manipulate mortals. She'd succeeded, too, for quite some time. Wrathion had done some manipulating in his time, but he's never used his own body to do it.

She will let go of her arm as soon as they've turned the corner, no longer feeling like they'll be chased by the ghosts, thankfully. She shudders a little in remembrance, and glances at Vi.

"Make you scrub floors until your knuckles bleed because they think they're funny, or tell you the same joke until you want to beg them to shut up?" She shrugs. "It's not all of the ghosts that act this way, mostly just the ones that come out to attend to the guests, but I didn't want to risk it, honestly."

A pause, as she considers the alternative to the attendant ghosts. "Or they could've just pranked me in some way. Far too many pranksters here."

Damn him for being so calm about it, too. He reminds her, in a very broad sense of the word, of Viktor. The blunt, direct mannerisms, the flagrant rejection of British prudishness.

Except that Wrathion is not British, and probably has no idea what that means.

(And yes also the athletic figure. She's looked.)

Regardless. "I must be dull by comparison."

Anduin turns slightly to glance over his shoulder at her, clocking that she is indeed averting her eyes -- has gone even so far as to close them. Bless her, honestly. There were a few he has shared the hot springs with so far that seemed to have tried to make it not a big deal by maintaining eye contact instead, both of them naked, and he isn't sure that hadn't just made things worse...

"Of course," he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, as he turns and quickly shucks the rest of his robe. Setting it aside with his towel and slippers, he does not waste time in making it toward the edge of the water.

"It does take a bit of getting used to," Anduin admits, as he steps in. "But I've had a lot of practice. When I was younger, I spent a fair bit of time at an inn with a hot spring nearby -- not all that unlike this one, really." He wades close enough to be polite but not too close that he might seem presumptuous. "Forgive me if Wrathion has already explained this. --ah. It should be safe now, if you want to..."

Stop avoiding looking at him completely. Although if she does look she will be able to see him from the waist up as he takes his seat. A lot of chest. Very muscled, very strong chest. Very strong, broad shoulders. Scars that he is self-conscious about, yes. But also, he is not un-easy on the eyes.

Dull? Why? His brow furrows, as if confused by this statement.

"Not at all," he assures her. "I have told you before I consider you an exceptional individual."

Did she think he was lying, perhaps? He was not. It was simply the truth.

"He did mention it's how you two met," she admits, and then when he tells her it's safe and he is in the water, she opens her eyes. Blinks away the sudden blurred vision, and focuses more towards him.

She has missed most of the chest, but not enough of it to miss the scars nd the shoulders. Uneasy on the eyes he is not.

She lets out a little groan, in personal mortification. "We changed the subject pretty quickly, but I got the gist of it. In your world, hot springs are common and body shame isn't." A tense little smile, petty. "Good for you all."

She rolls her eyes at that. An exceptional individual - exceptionally smart, or exceptionally annoying, or maybe if generous exceptionally talented with magic.

It's absolutely foolish, to be sharing a hot spring with Wrathion and suddenly feel overwhelmed by the need to be thought of as beautiful, for once. Not exceptional. Not cor, Hermione, you're a girl. Not even decently pretty. It's foolish, and petty, and maybe if she hadn't seen Wrathion's entire chest she might have felt less self-conscious about how awfully gangly she is. Small, but gangly.

"Right, right - and I appreciate that, but there's...look, you're just awfully fit and it's very difficult to not be looking," she defends herself, weakly.

Her eyeroll says she has not accepted the compliment.

He moves closer, head tilted curiously. Since she has chosen to be in the shallows, this does mean he is in danger of the water level no longer covering his lower half if this continues.

"I have no objection to you looking," he points out. She can look. He enjoys being admired. There's no difficulty there.

Anduin winces slightly at that. It does sound like something Wrathion would say, if not to the letter.

"We aren't all incapable of body shame," he points out. Okay, so. Maybe he doesn't truly have any reason to be self-conscious about himself, but. That isn't stopping him!

He crosses his hands in his lap, hoping the water will cover as much of his modesty for her as possible, before he continues, "Wrathion and I, we met at the Tavern in the Mists, in Pandaria. I was there to recover, because the hot springs had healing properties, and because I had nearly died not that long ago. I was not well enough to make the long journey across the seas back home to Stormwind. It's -- where all the scars are from."

She can't have missed those.

It's another example of their morals not aligning. He probably does not see anything bad in Hermione oggling him, but she does. It feels like a betrayal of trust - just not Wrathion's, right now, since he consents to being admired.

"You -" she starts to protest, raising her eyes towards the sky with a sigh. "You may not object but aren't you with Anduin?"

She knows a few things about scars herself. The ones left behind from Dolohov's curse are hidden by the nightshift she's wearing, but she has not worn her long sleeves here. On her forearm, on the inside, if he were to glance her way at all, he may spot it.

The scar is there, written clearly with a cursed dagger. Mudblood. She's sure Bellatrix would've added another choice word or two if she'd had more time for torture.

Hermione doesn't like to look at it, just like she doesn't much like to look at herself lately, but it's one thing to be upset about her own body and another to tolerate a dear friend to live under the impression that his scars are shameful.

"You've nothing to feel ashamed of," she murmurs, and with a little blush and fluster, changes the subject: "Do these feel like they have healing properties to you?"

Anduin?

Wrathion studies her a moment, thoughtful, then begins to slowly move closer. This is briefly dangerous, until he lowers himself to sit in the water near her -- blessedly keeping himself submerged. It also allows him an opportunity to casually skim the area, checking the two of them are still alone. This is now a private conversation, after all. Conversations about his personal situation should not be had in public. Other people's personal situation's are less of a concern.

"We have an understanding," he allows. Which is a nice way of saying yes, they spend time together, but they have not really put a name to it. In truth, they have barely discussed it -- talked around it more than about it.

The danger itself approaches like a shark in the water, complete with a menacing soundtrack. The ringing in her ears returns and she sits still and does very much not even glance in a downward direction.

Until he sits down near her, and the danger is gone, she doesn't release her breath. Then she does, and he chooses to finally answer her question in the most inane way possible.

"What does that even bloody mean?" she blurts out, albeit in more of an outraged whisper.

He wasn't... quite expecting that protest. Was he not clear?

"It means we understand each other," he says, "and our own limitations."

Some of them Wrathion's, to be sure, some of them Anduin's. His role limits him, and Wrathion's role is... nebulous, complicated. Neither of them are without constraints, both of them are without experience. They're still working things out.

She might be gaping like a fish out of water, while her brain attempts to understand what the hell he's saying.

It's still pretty vague. Last she talked to him, he and Anduin were definitely having a fight, even if Wrathion seemed unaware of of why.

Flustered, she turns her head to look at him, lips pressed together in confusion.

"What limitations, Wrathion? Are you two not together?"

Is it not possible to be together with someone while also understanding limitations?!

Wrathion hesitates, uneasy, and flicks his eyes away over the water.

"He spends his time with me, but there is nothing... official. Once we leave, he cannot promise his time to me."

Stormwind tolerates him as an advisor, but he sincerely doubts they'd accept him as anything more.

"Oh," she says. And then, "Hm." Because Anduin is king, isn't he? He has the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders back wherever his home is, and that is...

Well, she knows a thing or two about chosen ones who give up their shot at happiness for the good of the realm.

"It's strange, I've been... thinking about it. The return. I've missed my shot at several beacons now, when it arose," she admits. "You'd think I enjoy the constant panic, lack of sleep and suffering if it means exploring a world unknown..."

She looks at him again. It's a change of subject, but it isn't. Wrathion has mentioned once before that he doesn't think they will remember anything of this world when they are returned to their homes.

"Or maybe I'm just...not enough in a hurry to return and forget some of the people I've met here." A pause. "And dragon."