(In hindsight, this won't be the first time that she crosses the barrier between worlds accidentally and making the best of it.)
It goes like this:
There is a knot in her throat at the beacons get lit, one for each world they have been stolen from, ready to finally return them to their lives. The Merchant is not able to tell them if they'll remember their times here, once back, or if life will go on as if nothing happened.
After what's been almost a year of travelling together, she takes it as an insult to injury. She's changed, in her time in this strange world, she knows that. She's grown into her skills, into her anger, into a lot of things. She's forged bonds with people she will never see again.
So you'll forgive her the slip up, because: she goes to say goodbye. Anduin has already stepped through the portal, when it happens. She turns to Wrathion, trying to commit his red eyes to memory, trying to come up with something cool to say. Instead, she decides to not be discriminatory (because Anduin got one before he left) and surges up to hug him as tightly as she can, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder.
"I won't forget you - I swear, I won't."
That's when it happens. His reply, it there is any, gets drowned by the pull of the portal, which seems to lose patience and sucks the entities closest to it through -- and since she's holding onto Wrathion, she is pulled along with him.
Somewhere, on a mountain overseeing Elletheia, the beacon leading to Hogwarts flickers, stays open for three more seconds, and snaps shut.
Wrathion reflexively wraps his arms around Hermione, surprised, then feels the pull --
Anything he'd been about to say is lost in a rush of arcane energy, then of heat.
He tightens his grip, wary of her being ripped away from him in the rush of teleportation and something worse happening, then eases back as the swirl of power settles. Around them, a dark, dry land is cracked and uneven. Lava wells up in each crevasse, which seem to radiate out from some sort of massive pillar the size of a skyscraper. A whirl of blue and gold energy radiates from its base, where it seems to erupt up out of the earth --
The structure is impossibly huge for something clearly not a building, reaching all the way up into the starlit sky, with hilt-like juts emerging out from the top. The surface of it crawls, as if alive.
Wrathion, for his part, spares it little more than a glance before focusing more on his accompanying guest.
"Hermione," he begins, some soft mixture of concern and chide. "The portal -- you should not be here."
As if that wasn't at all evident from her surroundings.
It felt like being torn asunder, and then put back together again through magic; like a long form of Apparition, except it hurts so much to take the first breath on landing that she half-fears she splinched herself.
She dislodges from the embrace, quick and alert, dread sinking into the pit of her stomach as she takes in her surroundings and how very much not Hogwarts they are.
"Oh no." She whirls around, looking for any traces of the portal that brought somehow both of them here, panic brewing - nothing, it's gone. "No, no, no, I was - I - "
Hermione comes from close by, and she finally faces Wrathion again. Well. This was one way to not forget him.
"I'm aware." She looks up, to the structure at the top of the pillar. "What the hell is that?"
All things considered - all months of travel and subterfuge and investigation considered, with this misshap on top? - she's earned the right to swear.
Ah -- well. Wrathion distractedly glances up, then back at her with a frown.
"That is Gorribal, the sword of the Dark Titan Sargeras," he says. It is, of course, alarmingly big for being a sword, but Sargeras himself was even more alarmingly big. Everything in Azeroth just has an... increased scale.
"Hermione," he repeats, "forgive me, I had no intention of pulling you here. I should have pushed you back when I felt the beacon activate."
Now, she's potentially trapped here. Unless some... residual portal magic remains? And a mage can channel it enough to rip it back open so she can return and take the right beacon? If not, what other option even is there? They have no idea how far away her home is from Azeroth.
Right, well, it's only Gorribal, the sword of the Dark Titan Sargeras. "Of course it is." Why wouldn't it be?
She's heard...figments of stories, from him and from Anduin, of their world. Nothing compares quite to being able to experience it, in all its vast, excessively large, slightly terrifying glory.
She lets out a choked sound, in protest, and makes a cutting moment with her hand to interrupt him. "Don't even apologise. We don't know you did this - we don't know I didn't do this. I'm here, and the portal's...not."
And her world, oh, it's so very different from this. So very far away, far removed. How on Earth is she going to make it back? How can she?
She sucks in a breath, and steels her shoulders. "Okay, first things first - are we in danger here? Should we move?"
"The swords corrupting influence has been drained," he assures her. "You are in no danger."
Not from the sword, anyway. Potentially from other things -- Azeroth is full of danger.
He draws back a fraction, hands lingering on her arms as he thinks.
"However, it may be best for us to head inside regardless. MOTHER may be able to pick up any traces of the magic used to teleport us, or to analyse you and locate your home world."
Wrathion hesitates a moment, then leads Hermione towards a small platform nestled into a split in the ground. They step on it, and a flash of light teleports them to an underground chamber, round and tall -- supported by pillars and with some form of central area surrounded by a ring of clear floor that shows a complex mechanism operating below.
In it, a dwarf who looks like he is made of diamond is holding a conversation with an incredibly tall figure who... may be wearing armour? Yet no, on second glance perhaps she too is not made of flesh and blood.
The dwarf turns, and seems pleased by the sight of Wrathion.
"Yer back! And who's ye new friend?"
"This is Hermione. MOTHER, Hermione is not of Azeroth. Can you match her to any known location?"
"Greetings," she intones in an echoing voice. "I am the Matron of Tenacity, Herald of Endless Research. Designation: MOTHER. Visitor identified. Scanning new subject."
It all seems to pass in something of a daze. She doesn't understand what the deal with the giant swords is, but Wrathion assures her that she's safe, and she - as usual - trusts him on that. She's lead down to a platform while she still attempts to make heads and tails of the land outside, and then in a flash - they are not outside.
A part of Hermione's brain delights in this, and she half-wants to say Ha! So you do understand Apparition!
The other parts are busy absorbing the massive chamber, the two figures there. The fact that they talk, mostly, is what surprise her.
Hermione has adapted to worse. She has adapted to a lot of things, in the past few months (years?), and she thinks of herself as relatively strong. But when MOTHER begins to scan her, she wants more than anything to reach out and grab onto Wrathion's hand, or his sleeve, or anything. The comfort in what is familiar.
She refrains.
"Can..." she starts, her voice quiet and tentative. A cleared throat later, the politeness comes out. "Wrathion said you might be able to return me to where I'm from."
The scan, at least, is not a visible action. Whatever MOTHER is doing, there's no outward evidence. She continues to stand where she was, body language passive -- as passive as it can be on a toweringly large construct.
"Oh, lass," Magni says, moving closer so he can look up at her properly. Despite the hard diamond construct of his body, his movements seem unhampered. "You are in a pickle, aren't yer? How did you get here?" His attention flits to Wrathion, and his brow furrows. "Ye didn't find her in Ny'alotha?"
"No," Wrathion confirms, "it's something of a long story. Suffice to say, I returned here using a portal and she was caught up in it."
Magni lets out a low hum in a manner that says he suspects the details of being important, but he's used to some degree of secrecy by now from the dragon.
"Well," the dwarf says finally, "we'll get you sorted out, no problem there. My name's Magni -- Magni Bronzebeard! I gather you already know Wrathion, and this here is MOTHER. Ah -- Ebyssian will want to know you're back."
Wrathion hesitates at that, nods at the prompt but says nothing else.
"I think I must've pushed us into the portal together, or maybe we got pulled in because it absorbed whoever was nearest to it at the time that it was scheduled to close?" she guesses, eyes moving grom Magni to MOTHER to Wrathion - and mostly to him, because he'll know what the hell she's talking about.
She's in his world. A world she's only heard of in stories, and yet here she is. Travelling across worlds for the second time in her life. Her heart leaps to her throat.
"Oh god, I hope this doesn't mean Anduin didn't come through!?"
Wrathion frowns in thought, one hand lifting to rub at his beard.
"I'm aware the portals close eventually, even if not everyone makes it through, but I'm not certain of the detail in our case. I suppose there would only be one way to find out, he should be in Stormwind."
"Anduin?!" Magni repeats finally, looking between the two of them. "You got the poor lad wrapped up in something?"
Why is everything always his fault? Wrathion sighs, folding his arms.
She doesn't appreciate that line of questioning, and maybe it'll be noticed in the way she pins a quick glare towards Magni when the accusation comes.
It's also around this point when Hermione tires of standing still and being analysed, and crosses her arms to show it.
"His Highness is quite capable of getting himself in trouble all on his own, I would know. I've seen it." She's possibly, at this stage, even participated in a few of those efforts to get in trouble. Still, something tells her that if she were to tell these people that Wrathion has been the voice of reason on previous occasions, they will laugh and she will hiss at them.
"Aye, true enough lass, but he's not been out of Stormwind much of late -- not since his father died. For that matter, I didn't think the two of you were on speaking terms?"
His attention turns to Wrathion again, curious.
"That was quite the right hook he gave! Did ye go back to speak with him again? An apology would go a long way, I'm sure, he's the forgiving sort!"
Wrathion clears his throat awkwardly, flitting his eyes away.
Her eyebrows raise abruptly at that, and before Wrathion can look away (and avoid the subject) completely, she catches his gaze in a telling he punched you? kind of look. Fancy that, neither of them mentioned that part of their history to her. She might've swatted the back of the King's head if he'd admitted to violence. (Because swatting his head is not violent if Hermione does it, because that's how rules work.)
"I'm sure he won't need an apology anymore, given everything." Because Anduin will absolutely remember everything they've been through, right? Of course he will.
And now, impatiently towards MOTHER, "May I move now?"
"Error," MOTHER offers placidly, "subject origin not recognised. Recommendation: further research. Accessing Chamber of Heart data archives. Comprehensive analysis will require approximately 77 cycles."
"77 cycles?!" Magni yelps, turning his attention toward MOTHER now.
"The records here are extensive," Wrathion points out, "but that is certainly longer than I would have liked. We'll need to begin looking at other options." He hesitates, sliding a glance between Hermione and Magni. "The Kirin Tor, perhaps."
"Oh!" Magni says, with bright optimism that rather contradicts Wrathion's own unease. "That's an idea. I'm sure Kalecgos would help you!"
Seventy-seven cycles - what does that mean, seventy-seven years? There's a wave of panic, only a small wave, before the conversation continues without her and she is left standing there, still waiting for an answer on whether or not she can move.
Enough of that. "Okay, that's enough of that," she says out loud, and steps out of the analysing eyes of MOTHER to march up to Wrathion and Magni both.
"I'll thank you to both stop speaking about me like I'm an oddity when I'm right in the room, and you - " Rudely, she points at Wrathion, "you especially. You do realise that we're practically speaking another language? There are not enough stories in the world to quite make up for experiencing Azeroth firsthand, Wrathion, and you're just...tossing out names and I'm not following."
And he should know by now how angry it makes Hermione to not be the smartest in the room. So she crosses her arms, and doesn't stomp her feet by sheer strength of will, and chooses stubbornness instead. "I've adapted to waking up in a cage in Taravast so I am sure I can survive a deviation here. This literally is not the first time I have jumped across universes."
Wrathion pauses at her outburst, hesitates as he mentally re-corrects.
"The Kirin Tor are a council of magi, the most powerful magic users in Azeroth. They are technically allied with the Alliance, and thus Anduin, but remain neutral in its wars. Their leading group, known as the Council of Six, includes Kalecgos -- a blue dragon. Blue dragons specialise in the arcane, they are stewards of the domain of magic."
There's another pause as he backtracks through the conversation.
"The Chamber of Heart is the room we are standing in. It is a vault that can connect to several other facilities around Azeroth, and commune with the soul of Azeroth itself. Do you have any other questions?"
Did he hit everything? Hopefully she doesn't also want him to explain why Anduin punched him, because he'd really rather skim over that whole incident.
She pauses for a moment, then manages an imperious little sniff. "Yes, I'm satisfied now." Given that, she'll lower her arms and stop being so confrontational before one of the two other people(ish) in the room tear into her.
He does go by the Black Prince dragon, so she assumes there's some sort of etiquette she's trampling all over. She'll play nice. Adapt and surive!
On the other hand - "Wait, the Chamber lets you commune with the soul of Azeroth? How does that even mean, is it like a giant wand? You can channel Azeroth's - erm - powers through the Chamber or the communion? Or do you just send Azeroth's soul a little message to ask if she's doing alright or if she wants some coffee?"
This is exactly the kind of conversation she should be having, less than an hour from landing in a strange new world.
"We're deep in the earth here, lass. I can always hear Azeroth, when she wants so speak to me, but she's clearer in some places. Here, in this chamber, my connection to her is very strong. Although you're not wrong! It's very similar to the Hall of Communion."
He beams at her, and Wrathion hesitates before adding.
"A different location, under Sholazar. Equally deep within the earth. Magni is the Speaker of Azeroth, he's attuned to the world soul -- it is not an ability everyone here possesses."
Just to be clear, people are not in fact casually asking Azeroth if she wants some coffee.
I want some coffee she thinks resentfully, processing all the information coming her way. Not all of it new, of course, but it's a different experience to actually be in Azeroth rather than just listening to campfire stories of his world.
She meets Wrathion's gaze for a moment - strange, that in this world, in his world, those red eyes are not as unsettling as she found them back when they first met; maybe it has to do with the friendship forged along the way - the slightest flicker of uncertainty and hesitation crossing her face.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the first.
It goes like this:
There is a knot in her throat at the beacons get lit, one for each world they have been stolen from, ready to finally return them to their lives. The Merchant is not able to tell them if they'll remember their times here, once back, or if life will go on as if nothing happened.
After what's been almost a year of travelling together, she takes it as an insult to injury. She's changed, in her time in this strange world, she knows that. She's grown into her skills, into her anger, into a lot of things. She's forged bonds with people she will never see again.
So you'll forgive her the slip up, because: she goes to say goodbye. Anduin has already stepped through the portal, when it happens. She turns to Wrathion, trying to commit his red eyes to memory, trying to come up with something cool to say. Instead, she decides to not be discriminatory (because Anduin got one before he left) and surges up to hug him as tightly as she can, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder.
"I won't forget you - I swear, I won't."
That's when it happens. His reply, it there is any, gets drowned by the pull of the portal, which seems to lose patience and sucks the entities closest to it through -- and since she's holding onto Wrathion, she is pulled along with him.
Somewhere, on a mountain overseeing Elletheia, the beacon leading to Hogwarts flickers, stays open for three more seconds, and snaps shut.
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Anything he'd been about to say is lost in a rush of arcane energy, then of heat.
He tightens his grip, wary of her being ripped away from him in the rush of teleportation and something worse happening, then eases back as the swirl of power settles. Around them, a dark, dry land is cracked and uneven. Lava wells up in each crevasse, which seem to radiate out from some sort of massive pillar the size of a skyscraper. A whirl of blue and gold energy radiates from its base, where it seems to erupt up out of the earth --
Or no, from the misshapen cracks around it, it's more like it was thrust down into it.
The structure is impossibly huge for something clearly not a building, reaching all the way up into the starlit sky, with hilt-like juts emerging out from the top. The surface of it crawls, as if alive.
Wrathion, for his part, spares it little more than a glance before focusing more on his accompanying guest.
"Hermione," he begins, some soft mixture of concern and chide. "The portal -- you should not be here."
As if that wasn't at all evident from her surroundings.
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She dislodges from the embrace, quick and alert, dread sinking into the pit of her stomach as she takes in her surroundings and how very much not Hogwarts they are.
"Oh no." She whirls around, looking for any traces of the portal that brought somehow both of them here, panic brewing - nothing, it's gone. "No, no, no, I was - I - "
Hermione comes from close by, and she finally faces Wrathion again. Well. This was one way to not forget him.
"I'm aware." She looks up, to the structure at the top of the pillar. "What the hell is that?"
All things considered - all months of travel and subterfuge and investigation considered, with this misshap on top? - she's earned the right to swear.
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"That is Gorribal, the sword of the Dark Titan Sargeras," he says. It is, of course, alarmingly big for being a sword, but Sargeras himself was even more alarmingly big. Everything in Azeroth just has an... increased scale.
"Hermione," he repeats, "forgive me, I had no intention of pulling you here. I should have pushed you back when I felt the beacon activate."
Now, she's potentially trapped here. Unless some... residual portal magic remains? And a mage can channel it enough to rip it back open so she can return and take the right beacon? If not, what other option even is there? They have no idea how far away her home is from Azeroth.
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She's heard...figments of stories, from him and from Anduin, of their world. Nothing compares quite to being able to experience it, in all its vast, excessively large, slightly terrifying glory.
She lets out a choked sound, in protest, and makes a cutting moment with her hand to interrupt him. "Don't even apologise. We don't know you did this - we don't know I didn't do this. I'm here, and the portal's...not."
And her world, oh, it's so very different from this. So very far away, far removed. How on Earth is she going to make it back? How can she?
She sucks in a breath, and steels her shoulders. "Okay, first things first - are we in danger here? Should we move?"
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Not from the sword, anyway. Potentially from other things -- Azeroth is full of danger.
He draws back a fraction, hands lingering on her arms as he thinks.
"However, it may be best for us to head inside regardless. MOTHER may be able to pick up any traces of the magic used to teleport us, or to analyse you and locate your home world."
Wrathion hesitates a moment, then leads Hermione towards a small platform nestled into a split in the ground. They step on it, and a flash of light teleports them to an underground chamber, round and tall -- supported by pillars and with some form of central area surrounded by a ring of clear floor that shows a complex mechanism operating below.
In it, a dwarf who looks like he is made of diamond is holding a conversation with an incredibly tall figure who... may be wearing armour? Yet no, on second glance perhaps she too is not made of flesh and blood.
The dwarf turns, and seems pleased by the sight of Wrathion.
"Yer back! And who's ye new friend?"
"This is Hermione. MOTHER, Hermione is not of Azeroth. Can you match her to any known location?"
"Greetings," she intones in an echoing voice. "I am the Matron of Tenacity, Herald of Endless Research. Designation: MOTHER. Visitor identified. Scanning new subject."
no subject
A part of Hermione's brain delights in this, and she half-wants to say Ha! So you do understand Apparition!
The other parts are busy absorbing the massive chamber, the two figures there. The fact that they talk, mostly, is what surprise her.
Hermione has adapted to worse. She has adapted to a lot of things, in the past few months (years?), and she thinks of herself as relatively strong. But when MOTHER begins to scan her, she wants more than anything to reach out and grab onto Wrathion's hand, or his sleeve, or anything. The comfort in what is familiar.
She refrains.
"Can..." she starts, her voice quiet and tentative. A cleared throat later, the politeness comes out. "Wrathion said you might be able to return me to where I'm from."
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"Oh, lass," Magni says, moving closer so he can look up at her properly. Despite the hard diamond construct of his body, his movements seem unhampered. "You are in a pickle, aren't yer? How did you get here?" His attention flits to Wrathion, and his brow furrows. "Ye didn't find her in Ny'alotha?"
"No," Wrathion confirms, "it's something of a long story. Suffice to say, I returned here using a portal and she was caught up in it."
Magni lets out a low hum in a manner that says he suspects the details of being important, but he's used to some degree of secrecy by now from the dragon.
"Well," the dwarf says finally, "we'll get you sorted out, no problem there. My name's Magni -- Magni Bronzebeard! I gather you already know Wrathion, and this here is MOTHER. Ah -- Ebyssian will want to know you're back."
Wrathion hesitates at that, nods at the prompt but says nothing else.
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She's in his world. A world she's only heard of in stories, and yet here she is. Travelling across worlds for the second time in her life. Her heart leaps to her throat.
"Oh god, I hope this doesn't mean Anduin didn't come through!?"
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Wrathion frowns in thought, one hand lifting to rub at his beard.
"I'm aware the portals close eventually, even if not everyone makes it through, but I'm not certain of the detail in our case. I suppose there would only be one way to find out, he should be in Stormwind."
"Anduin?!" Magni repeats finally, looking between the two of them. "You got the poor lad wrapped up in something?"
Why is everything always his fault? Wrathion sighs, folding his arms.
"On the contrary, it was nothing to do with me."
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It's also around this point when Hermione tires of standing still and being analysed, and crosses her arms to show it.
"His Highness is quite capable of getting himself in trouble all on his own, I would know. I've seen it." She's possibly, at this stage, even participated in a few of those efforts to get in trouble. Still, something tells her that if she were to tell these people that Wrathion has been the voice of reason on previous occasions, they will laugh and she will hiss at them.
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"Aye, true enough lass, but he's not been out of Stormwind much of late -- not since his father died. For that matter, I didn't think the two of you were on speaking terms?"
His attention turns to Wrathion again, curious.
"That was quite the right hook he gave! Did ye go back to speak with him again? An apology would go a long way, I'm sure, he's the forgiving sort!"
Wrathion clears his throat awkwardly, flitting his eyes away.
"You could say we have spoken again."
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"I'm sure he won't need an apology anymore, given everything." Because Anduin will absolutely remember everything they've been through, right? Of course he will.
And now, impatiently towards MOTHER, "May I move now?"
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"77 cycles?!" Magni yelps, turning his attention toward MOTHER now.
"The records here are extensive," Wrathion points out, "but that is certainly longer than I would have liked. We'll need to begin looking at other options." He hesitates, sliding a glance between Hermione and Magni. "The Kirin Tor, perhaps."
"Oh!" Magni says, with bright optimism that rather contradicts Wrathion's own unease. "That's an idea. I'm sure Kalecgos would help you!"
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Enough of that. "Okay, that's enough of that," she says out loud, and steps out of the analysing eyes of MOTHER to march up to Wrathion and Magni both.
"I'll thank you to both stop speaking about me like I'm an oddity when I'm right in the room, and you - " Rudely, she points at Wrathion, "you especially. You do realise that we're practically speaking another language? There are not enough stories in the world to quite make up for experiencing Azeroth firsthand, Wrathion, and you're just...tossing out names and I'm not following."
And he should know by now how angry it makes Hermione to not be the smartest in the room. So she crosses her arms, and doesn't stomp her feet by sheer strength of will, and chooses stubbornness instead. "I've adapted to waking up in a cage in Taravast so I am sure I can survive a deviation here. This literally is not the first time I have jumped across universes."
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"The Kirin Tor are a council of magi, the most powerful magic users in Azeroth. They are technically allied with the Alliance, and thus Anduin, but remain neutral in its wars. Their leading group, known as the Council of Six, includes Kalecgos -- a blue dragon. Blue dragons specialise in the arcane, they are stewards of the domain of magic."
There's another pause as he backtracks through the conversation.
"The Chamber of Heart is the room we are standing in. It is a vault that can connect to several other facilities around Azeroth, and commune with the soul of Azeroth itself. Do you have any other questions?"
Did he hit everything? Hopefully she doesn't also want him to explain why Anduin punched him, because he'd really rather skim over that whole incident.
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He does go by the Black Prince dragon, so she assumes there's some sort of etiquette she's trampling all over. She'll play nice. Adapt and surive!
On the other hand - "Wait, the Chamber lets you commune with the soul of Azeroth? How does that even mean, is it like a giant wand? You can channel Azeroth's - erm - powers through the Chamber or the communion? Or do you just send Azeroth's soul a little message to ask if she's doing alright or if she wants some coffee?"
This is exactly the kind of conversation she should be having, less than an hour from landing in a strange new world.
no subject
"We're deep in the earth here, lass. I can always hear Azeroth, when she wants so speak to me, but she's clearer in some places. Here, in this chamber, my connection to her is very strong. Although you're not wrong! It's very similar to the Hall of Communion."
He beams at her, and Wrathion hesitates before adding.
"A different location, under Sholazar. Equally deep within the earth. Magni is the Speaker of Azeroth, he's attuned to the world soul -- it is not an ability everyone here possesses."
Just to be clear, people are not in fact casually asking Azeroth if she wants some coffee.
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She meets Wrathion's gaze for a moment - strange, that in this world, in his world, those red eyes are not as unsettling as she found them back when they first met; maybe it has to do with the friendship forged along the way - the slightest flicker of uncertainty and hesitation crossing her face.
Help.
"You tell me, then - what comes now?"