[She's sitting, though. And have you tried the tea?]
Mm - unfortunately, there are still a lot of horrible people out there who are dragon hunters, or who like to smuggle eggs for profit. There are reservations to protect dragons - where they sort of fly free, and stay hidden from the eyes of Mu - non magical people.
[A pause.] Magic's not publically known. You either can use it, and you know it's there, or you don't have the aptitude for it so you live without knowing a whole community hides behind barriers and spells.
[Well, that's. Not inaccurate. She won't mention the one they had locked up in Gringotts to guard their treasures. She won't mention the Triwizard Tournament, either.
She definitely won't mention Norbert.
Because she can tell, something there upset him. It's more important than the sodding wand.]
[It's a shock to the system, the way he says it so bluntly. She startles, and sets her cup down with a loud clink. Recovers her wand, because there's no reason for him to build her anything, since he expected more of her apparently.]
I see. Huh. [A clench of her jaw.] You expected me to what?
This is a feedback loop he has seen before, although his manner is still cool. He is disappointed, but it simply means he may need to be careful about what he trusts her with.
Since apparently she thinks he should be captured and kept on a reservation, for his own safety.
It is a harsh lesson, but an important one. He had almost grown... complacent, willing to think he might be accepted. In the end, he will likely have only himself. Sometimes you must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light. ]
To understand a gilded cage is still a cage.
[ He collects his hands neatly into his lap, regards her with a slight frown. ]
[As he explains it, she takes that time to return her wand to the holster, in case she will need to make an early exit. Whatever the reason of his upset with her, she can't discount that this night might be cut short due to it.
His question does make her pause, with sudden understanding. He's asking about the dragons - something in her heart twitches in compassion, for someone who is willing to jump and defend the rights of magical creatures.
Don't go around assuming things about him just because you want a friend.
She does have an answer:]
They don't speak, so I don't know what to tell you about that. I understand - you think they're locked up. I won't deny it, there are people horrible enough out there that do keep dragons captive, and I hope to one day end their tyranny, but...they're not held in cages.
[She takes a deep breath, and looks away.] I don't know what kind of person you think I am, Wrathion, but I don't take any pleasure out of the idea of living things suffering. I am still, however, just one girl. In the eyes of wizards in my world, up until recently I wasn't even a girl worthy of attention, because my parents are both non-magical. I have ambition, I want to help...many.
But I can't just do it on my own like [She snaps her fingers.] that.
Because you do not understand them, they do not speak?
[ He's just saying. All living things communicate.
He reaches out to pick up his tea, fingers closing around it. ]
I have seen dragons caged before. I have seen them bred like animals, butchered, their children stolen, their wills broken, used as experiments to breed creatures built to fight, used as steeds to ride into war. If I placed you in a house, and told you that you could not leave for your entire lifetime, but that you'd be safe -- would you be happy? There may be no bars, but you are still being kept.
Alright, I don't speak dragon, is that better? [Not goign to apologise for snapping, because she's angry that he's right.
And she presses her lips together to let him finish making his point quietly, all the while silently seething that she is apparently being held accountable for the behaviour of wizarding Britain.
But still Hermione Granger enough that the idea of dragons being caged, the way he describes it, is horrible and fills her with more righteous wrath.]
I've seen dragons caged before, too. [Spoken with a very tense, high and mighty tone.] And on both occasions I helped them escape, so - [Deep breath, and:] Why are you scolding me?
We can do snapping at each other. He drops his voice down into a deep, snarling tone that has a strange resonant quality. Something bestial, dark, inhuman. ]
Because I will not be caged again, Hermione Granger.
[Look. She just thought that maybe he had one of those naturally deep voices, and that when he was frustrated he growled (because he was a werewolf), but this is.
To say unexpected is to put it mildly. Very mildly.
For a few seconds, she doesn't really breathe, and just stares at him, surprised. Frozen in place, for a moment.
Then, the feedback lands. The conversation, the outburst, the clues that were so obviously there. Dots get connected, and she lets out an inhuman little sound, kind of like an eep. It's instinct, really, when you're sharing tea and arguing with a sodding dragon.]
[Again, silence, and she's still stuck for a moment before shaking herself out of it.]
Hold on a second, you reveal to be you're a dragon - and nevermind the fact that you look nothing like the dragons I've seen so there's that - and then just casually switch to talking about wand cores again?!
This is my visage. It allows me to interact with mortals, and not destroy the furniture inside their houses.
[ Also, wear fashionable. He turns sideways and loosens his robe, shrugging it off one shoulder. The curse scratches along his back have started to seep blood in places, and the blood is... not quite red. It has a faint, molten glow.
Like magma. ]
It is, however, causing me problems when it cannot be healed. If these get worse I'll be destroying clothing.
[So - so - where he's from, which he has mentioned a few times, dragons are shape shifters? It explains the red eyes, it also explains the extremely high body temperature and the growling, but it doesn't explain why he's taking his robe off.
She relaxes a little bit when he doesn't, actually, take it all the way off, but then she sees the scratches and frowns, suddenly both worried and curious enough to want to touch it and see if it burns.]
I don't know if any of my potions would work on you, then - but it's worth trying. You'll need to wait a few days, the poultice that heals cuts requires more time to brew here. Must have to do with the replacement I'm using for Murtlap.
[A pause after that, and she glances up.] I would never want to see you caged, for the record.
[She is going to do the very British thing here, and resort to the comfort of tea in order to calm her own nerves down. Because, the truth is, this conversation has been a lot.
Her heartbeat is pouding - so she can only hope that keen senses don't count among the skills of a dragon in disguise.
(Does he have a hoard? No, I can't ask that, it'd be rude.)
The line of thought goes towards his blood again, and the possibility of him using it for a wand is just out of this world, so it flies right over her head.]
For the poultice? [Actually considers this.] Maybe it might - I don't think I've brewed anything like that.
[She knows of nine uses for dragon blood and she is not going to start thinking about them, because - because what was once a comfort (the ability to memorise homework) feels tainted now. Feels wrong, in light of these revelations, to even know that you can use dragonblood to get rid of verrucas.]
Ah - I did bring a healing potion with me. [She does reach into her bag now, summons it into her hand and holds it out, bottled inside a perfume bottle from the palazzo.] It is magical, but I'll grant you it might not work. Maybe just take a sip and see?
[ Properties for the wand, you see. Still, he sets aside his tea and reaches out for the potion bottle. His hand is very slightly unsteady, but he's maintaining a dignified air and pretending it isn't. It's hidden quickly once he grips the bottle and begins to inspect it. ]
Anduin found none of his most powerful healing spells could touch them, and normally there is little he cannot heal.
[ Anduin Wrynn, blessed by the light, should be able to bring people back from the brink of death. Strange that a few scratches would stop him. Wrathion uncaps the bottle and sniffs it curiously, trying to get a read on what she's put in it. Curiosity more than suspicion. ]
[And here she foolishly believed that she couldn't be surprised any further today.]
You...want to make me a wand still? With...your blood? [Her voice does go slightly up on those last few words, because the statement is not fully sinking in.
Oh - oh. She sees it now. He's not very clear on rules of social interractions with humans, is he? That makes more sense.]
[ He takes a small sip of the potion, sets it down and waits -- one hand reaching under his robe and over his side to tentatively feel for the scratches. To see if they will begin to heal. ]
I've been crafting a backup communicator for Anduin. It contains my blood. Do you believe he is exploiting me?
[He might find that for a few seconds, the cuts don't sting. It won't last, and she will be expecting this. Her cuts aren't healing either.]
Of course not - no. I don't have a better word for it. [Intimate? Maybe it'd be just very intimate.
The dragon heartstring core of this wand, and the one of her wand, they belonged to faceless, nameless, long gone dragons. She cannot imagine how having a different wand will feel. What if it doesn't work? What if that potential wand does not, in fact, choose her?]
I don't know what...dragonblood in a wand...would do to my magic.
[ He moves his hands from his back to pick up his tea again, something to do with his hands. Something to focus on. ]
If your previous source did not have the same gifts I have, the natural magic in it may be less... potent. If that is the case, but the concept is sound, we could adjust the quantities or use something else. A scale, perhaps.
[ He takes a sip of his tea, lets the cup rest on the desk with his hands laced around it. ]
The items I make do not require magic to use because they contain so much. Someone with no talent at all could activate a spell I weave into something, the same way anyone can drink the potions you make. Even if this does not work the way you want, there is a chance I could still make you something else as an... alternative.
[And that sinks in, the dots connected.] A wand that could...do all the spells I tell it to, even if my magic gets taken away?
[Wasn't that the biggest fear? Not being able to fend for herself without it, in this unforgiving world she's been pulled into? Not being able to make it back home? She draws in a breath, looking down at her tea cup as if it will reveal some secrets to her.
She frets in place, worries her lower lip between her teeth.] I...I want that. [Glances at him quickly, almost embarrassed to admit to that kind of desire. The desire to stay powerful, and safe. To save herself, at any point.
Still.] But - I thought I'd disappointed you. Why offer this still?
I have disappointed people in the past, and learned from my mistakes. None of us are perfect.
[ His mistakes, in fact, were far more fatal than not criticising the source of a wand core. He sets aside his cup, turns one hand palm up. ]
The magic I use is different to yours, if I weave a spell into something it won't be your magic anymore. It will be mine, your control will be... limited.
[ His fingers shift, barely perceptibly, and a flame conjures into his hand, dances, vanishes. ]
It would need a stronger conduit, too. Something to bind the magic to, to store the spells. I usually embed gems into things. A focus to channel through is different to something that holds magical potential ready to cast.
[But - he hasn't really explained what he thinks her mistake was. Coming from a world where dragons grew in the wild, and some on reservations? Not somehow knowing to fight against magical creature abuse when she was barely eleven?
What was the whole core of this?
No, it's easier to let him talk for a change. When he produces a flame, she startles, the motion subtle enough that she nearly missed it. Wandless magic? No - just magic. His magic.]
I've never seen you cast before. [That one's whispered, almost fascinated, before his words make sense.] Oh - I see. So you would. Hm. I'm not sure I like the idea of it being out of my control.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Mm - unfortunately, there are still a lot of horrible people out there who are dragon hunters, or who like to smuggle eggs for profit. There are reservations to protect dragons - where they sort of fly free, and stay hidden from the eyes of Mu - non magical people.
[A pause.] Magic's not publically known. You either can use it, and you know it's there, or you don't have the aptitude for it so you live without knowing a whole community hides behind barriers and spells.
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Who are turned into wands.
His face is going on a journey. It's landing somewhere around distaste.
He is, in fact, going to sip the tea to try and recover. ]
So you herd them into a field and harvest their corpses when they pass.
[ Another sip. He sets the cup down. ]
I can find something to use as a core, but if it will work the same way I cannot say. Do the wood and shape impact the use?
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She definitely won't mention Norbert.
Because she can tell, something there upset him. It's more important than the sodding wand.]
I've upset you.
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He considers that a long moment. Processing emotion takes time, sometimes, to untangle exactly the meaning of it all. ]
Yes.
[ This admission is actually unusual for him, but he thinks this qualifies. ]
I expected better of you.
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I see. Huh. [A clench of her jaw.] You expected me to what?
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This is a feedback loop he has seen before, although his manner is still cool. He is disappointed, but it simply means he may need to be careful about what he trusts her with.
Since apparently she thinks he should be captured and kept on a reservation, for his own safety.
It is a harsh lesson, but an important one. He had almost grown... complacent, willing to think he might be accepted. In the end, he will likely have only himself. Sometimes you must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light. ]
To understand a gilded cage is still a cage.
[ He collects his hands neatly into his lap, regards her with a slight frown. ]
Or will you tell me they agreed to this?
[ He cannot imagine tolerating it himself. ]
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His question does make her pause, with sudden understanding. He's asking about the dragons - something in her heart twitches in compassion, for someone who is willing to jump and defend the rights of magical creatures.
Don't go around assuming things about him just because you want a friend.
She does have an answer:]
They don't speak, so I don't know what to tell you about that. I understand - you think they're locked up. I won't deny it, there are people horrible enough out there that do keep dragons captive, and I hope to one day end their tyranny, but...they're not held in cages.
[She takes a deep breath, and looks away.] I don't know what kind of person you think I am, Wrathion, but I don't take any pleasure out of the idea of living things suffering. I am still, however, just one girl. In the eyes of wizards in my world, up until recently I wasn't even a girl worthy of attention, because my parents are both non-magical. I have ambition, I want to help...many.
But I can't just do it on my own like [She snaps her fingers.] that.
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[ He's just saying. All living things communicate.
He reaches out to pick up his tea, fingers closing around it. ]
I have seen dragons caged before. I have seen them bred like animals, butchered, their children stolen, their wills broken, used as experiments to breed creatures built to fight, used as steeds to ride into war. If I placed you in a house, and told you that you could not leave for your entire lifetime, but that you'd be safe -- would you be happy? There may be no bars, but you are still being kept.
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And she presses her lips together to let him finish making his point quietly, all the while silently seething that she is apparently being held accountable for the behaviour of wizarding Britain.
But still Hermione Granger enough that the idea of dragons being caged, the way he describes it, is horrible and fills her with more righteous wrath.]
I've seen dragons caged before, too. [Spoken with a very tense, high and mighty tone.] And on both occasions I helped them escape, so - [Deep breath, and:] Why are you scolding me?
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We can do snapping at each other. He drops his voice down into a deep, snarling tone that has a strange resonant quality. Something bestial, dark, inhuman. ]
Because I will not be caged again, Hermione Granger.
[ Please accept this feedback. ]
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To say unexpected is to put it mildly. Very mildly.
For a few seconds, she doesn't really breathe, and just stares at him, surprised. Frozen in place, for a moment.
Then, the feedback lands. The conversation, the outburst, the clues that were so obviously there. Dots get connected, and she lets out an inhuman little sound, kind of like an eep. It's instinct, really, when you're sharing tea and arguing with a sodding dragon.]
What. What? You - what?
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I can provide you options for your wand. You'll need to let me know how the shape and the wood interact with it.
[ Anyway.
He has limited tree options in his surroundings, but he can try things. Obviously he can put something draconic in it. ]
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Hold on a second, you reveal to be you're a dragon - and nevermind the fact that you look nothing like the dragons I've seen so there's that - and then just casually switch to talking about wand cores again?!
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[ Also, wear fashionable. He turns sideways and loosens his robe, shrugging it off one shoulder. The curse scratches along his back have started to seep blood in places, and the blood is... not quite red. It has a faint, molten glow.
Like magma. ]
It is, however, causing me problems when it cannot be healed. If these get worse I'll be destroying clothing.
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She relaxes a little bit when he doesn't, actually, take it all the way off, but then she sees the scratches and frowns, suddenly both worried and curious enough to want to touch it and see if it burns.]
I don't know if any of my potions would work on you, then - but it's worth trying. You'll need to wait a few days, the poultice that heals cuts requires more time to brew here. Must have to do with the replacement I'm using for Murtlap.
[A pause after that, and she glances up.] I would never want to see you caged, for the record.
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I'm glad to hear it.
[ He's just going to sip this tea, and try to slow the racing of his heart.
He'd maybe lost his cool. This had been a very alarming series of revelations. The tea is helping him not panic over having just outed himself. ]
My blood has powerful magic properties. My natural affinity is earth and fire, if that will make a difference.
[ You know, if he bleeds into a wand for you. Like friends do.
Is it better or worse if your friends blood is powering your wand? ]
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Her heartbeat is pouding - so she can only hope that keen senses don't count among the skills of a dragon in disguise.
(Does he have a hoard? No, I can't ask that, it'd be rude.)
The line of thought goes towards his blood again, and the possibility of him using it for a wand is just out of this world, so it flies right over her head.]
For the poultice? [Actually considers this.] Maybe it might - I don't think I've brewed anything like that.
[She knows of nine uses for dragon blood and she is not going to start thinking about them, because - because what was once a comfort (the ability to memorise homework) feels tainted now. Feels wrong, in light of these revelations, to even know that you can use dragonblood to get rid of verrucas.]
Ah - I did bring a healing potion with me. [She does reach into her bag now, summons it into her hand and holds it out, bottled inside a perfume bottle from the palazzo.] It is magical, but I'll grant you it might not work. Maybe just take a sip and see?
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[ Properties for the wand, you see. Still, he sets aside his tea and reaches out for the potion bottle. His hand is very slightly unsteady, but he's maintaining a dignified air and pretending it isn't. It's hidden quickly once he grips the bottle and begins to inspect it. ]
Anduin found none of his most powerful healing spells could touch them, and normally there is little he cannot heal.
[ Anduin Wrynn, blessed by the light, should be able to bring people back from the brink of death. Strange that a few scratches would stop him. Wrathion uncaps the bottle and sniffs it curiously, trying to get a read on what she's put in it. Curiosity more than suspicion. ]
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You...want to make me a wand still? With...your blood? [Her voice does go slightly up on those last few words, because the statement is not fully sinking in.
Oh - oh. She sees it now. He's not very clear on rules of social interractions with humans, is he? That makes more sense.]
Isn't that exploitative?
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[ He takes a small sip of the potion, sets it down and waits -- one hand reaching under his robe and over his side to tentatively feel for the scratches. To see if they will begin to heal. ]
I've been crafting a backup communicator for Anduin. It contains my blood. Do you believe he is exploiting me?
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Of course not - no. I don't have a better word for it. [Intimate? Maybe it'd be just very intimate.
The dragon heartstring core of this wand, and the one of her wand, they belonged to faceless, nameless, long gone dragons. She cannot imagine how having a different wand will feel. What if it doesn't work? What if that potential wand does not, in fact, choose her?]
I don't know what...dragonblood in a wand...would do to my magic.
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[ He moves his hands from his back to pick up his tea again, something to do with his hands. Something to focus on. ]
If your previous source did not have the same gifts I have, the natural magic in it may be less... potent. If that is the case, but the concept is sound, we could adjust the quantities or use something else. A scale, perhaps.
[ He takes a sip of his tea, lets the cup rest on the desk with his hands laced around it. ]
The items I make do not require magic to use because they contain so much. Someone with no talent at all could activate a spell I weave into something, the same way anyone can drink the potions you make. Even if this does not work the way you want, there is a chance I could still make you something else as an... alternative.
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[Wasn't that the biggest fear? Not being able to fend for herself without it, in this unforgiving world she's been pulled into? Not being able to make it back home? She draws in a breath, looking down at her tea cup as if it will reveal some secrets to her.
She frets in place, worries her lower lip between her teeth.] I...I want that. [Glances at him quickly, almost embarrassed to admit to that kind of desire. The desire to stay powerful, and safe. To save herself, at any point.
Still.] But - I thought I'd disappointed you. Why offer this still?
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[ His mistakes, in fact, were far more fatal than not criticising the source of a wand core. He sets aside his cup, turns one hand palm up. ]
The magic I use is different to yours, if I weave a spell into something it won't be your magic anymore. It will be mine, your control will be... limited.
[ His fingers shift, barely perceptibly, and a flame conjures into his hand, dances, vanishes. ]
It would need a stronger conduit, too. Something to bind the magic to, to store the spells. I usually embed gems into things. A focus to channel through is different to something that holds magical potential ready to cast.
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What was the whole core of this?
No, it's easier to let him talk for a change. When he produces a flame, she startles, the motion subtle enough that she nearly missed it. Wandless magic? No - just magic. His magic.]
I've never seen you cast before. [That one's whispered, almost fascinated, before his words make sense.] Oh - I see. So you would. Hm. I'm not sure I like the idea of it being out of my control.
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