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Oh, you met Gwenaëlle already. Good. And, yeah, she's right.
( continued from. )
Are you familiar with the concept of multi-verses? Hermione asks, and something complicated crosses the sorcerer’s expression.
“Intimately,” Strange says, and he connects the dots, the pieces landing in place.
And perhaps this might be a more disorienting concept for someone else who hasn’t literally studied the multiverse and already crossed it, but this is a man who has met himself, who has peered into other worlds and knows what some of those diverging roads look like for him, and so instead there’s just that restless antsiness in his reaction as he thinks: well, it’s about time.
“I knew one rifter like that,” he says. “She went to another, more futuristic world than her own and developed powers, before she eventually came here. So this isn’t your first rodeo?”
She nods, having anticipated he would connect the two dots into a straight line, clever man he is. Granted, she wouldn't have put it in terms of rodeos, but - Americans.
"It isn't, although I had the powers before that other world, and it was very much not futuristic," the latter part of that, in reminiscence, she almost smiles at. Some parts of it had been modern enough, but Taravast? Ke-Waihu? It had been as if they were travelling back in time, and sideways, and in loop-de-loops.
"Magic," she adds, making a gesture to the wand currenly stuck in her hair, where it secures positively wild curls into a bun. That added, she moves on - because that was the point to this whole thing: "And, from my perspective at least, it wasn't your first rodeo either." A beat. "We've met. I've met you."
"It isn't, although I had the powers before that other world, and it was very much not futuristic," the latter part of that, in reminiscence, she almost smiles at. Some parts of it had been modern enough, but Taravast? Ke-Waihu? It had been as if they were travelling back in time, and sideways, and in loop-de-loops.
"Magic," she adds, making a gesture to the wand currenly stuck in her hair, where it secures positively wild curls into a bun. That added, she moves on - because that was the point to this whole thing: "And, from my perspective at least, it wasn't your first rodeo either." A beat. "We've met. I've met you."
Meeting Rifters always comes with the chance of a linguistic exercise.
By the sound of it, you're settling in all right, or able to do so. What sort of world are you from, if you don't mind my asking?
By the sound of it, you're settling in all right, or able to do so. What sort of world are you from, if you don't mind my asking?
Aha.
Some of us visited one like that, some time back. It's not so rare as you might think, although I don't recall that there were dragons.
[a loaded, hesitant pause, then:]
...does your world have Versace?
Some of us visited one like that, some time back. It's not so rare as you might think, although I don't recall that there were dragons.
[a loaded, hesitant pause, then:]
...does your world have Versace?
Edited 2024-08-26 22:07 (UTC)
[a wistful sigh.]
If only I could have brought it with me.
If only I could have brought it with me.
It would be a marvel [pun intended] to introduce his techniques to textile weavers here. World-changing.
And then I'd get to wear it again, of course.
[this is, by the sound of it, the great tragedy of Benedict's life]
And then I'd get to wear it again, of course.
[this is, by the sound of it, the great tragedy of Benedict's life]
[ Oh, he would've loved Wrathion. ]
Oh, indeed. There's definitely a lack of deep cut cleavages in Thedas that messere Versace would've fixed right up.
[ Lucky Benedict that Hermione doesn't recall that Gianni Versace died in 1997 - one year prior to when she's from. She was busy not getting murdered at the time. ]
Oh, indeed. There's definitely a lack of deep cut cleavages in Thedas that messere Versace would've fixed right up.
[ Lucky Benedict that Hermione doesn't recall that Gianni Versace died in 1997 - one year prior to when she's from. She was busy not getting murdered at the time. ]
You obviously haven't been to Val Royeaux yet.
[not that cleavage is much of a concern to him, but,]
Or Minrathous. Or... well. Anywhere that fancy women wear things. Or I suppose don't wear them, in this case.
[not that cleavage is much of a concern to him, but,]
Or Minrathous. Or... well. Anywhere that fancy women wear things. Or I suppose don't wear them, in this case.
Edited 2024-08-26 22:52 (UTC)
If you met her, you saw that she's not especially tall or big. But she's the captain. I don't know what you look like, but it's not like being small prevents you from kicking ass. Just work out.
[ JUST WORK OUT says girl who's been described as looking born to wear battle armor. Still, she's tactless but not wrong. ]
[ JUST WORK OUT says girl who's been described as looking born to wear battle armor. Still, she's tactless but not wrong. ]
Depends on where you're going.
I doubt anyone would mind if you tag along with them through the Eluvians-- we're in the process of setting up safehouses throughout Thedas, which could be a great opportunity for you to learn about different key locales.
I doubt anyone would mind if you tag along with them through the Eluvians-- we're in the process of setting up safehouses throughout Thedas, which could be a great opportunity for you to learn about different key locales.
Oh.
[uhh]
Ancient Elven mirrors used for quick travel from one location to another, via the Crossroads.
Which is...
...maybe I should just show you.
[uhh]
Ancient Elven mirrors used for quick travel from one location to another, via the Crossroads.
Which is...
...maybe I should just show you.
[ continued from here. ]
No apologies needed. I can wrap up what I'm working on fairly quickly; I'll meet you in front of the central tower in 15 minutes.
[ a moment later, as an afterthought—]
I'll be the blonde, with my hair under a kerchief.
[ and lo, fifteen minutes later, ness is in front of the central tower, as promised. she watches passersby, looking for an unfamiliar face who might be searching for something, and when she sees someone who fits the bill— ]
Goodlady Granger?
[ more confident in pronouncing that out loud than hermione, oop. ]
[ Do raised-eyebrows count as a vivid enough expression that it manifests itself in the tone of her voice? ] Quick travel mirrors. [ So, a Portkey. Apparition without needing to know the destination perfectly. She nods, mostly to herself. ]
And the Crossroads are what stabilises them? As in, does every Eluvian road lead to the Crossroads, or ...
[ Hold on, nerdy brain caught up with mouth. ] Oh, yes, I'd love to see them.
And the Crossroads are what stabilises them? As in, does every Eluvian road lead to the Crossroads, or ...
[ Hold on, nerdy brain caught up with mouth. ] Oh, yes, I'd love to see them.
[ At least a minute is a minute here, at least that's a reasonable measure of time that she can abide by. And honestly, outside of writing - publicly - in the book, and having her outrage criticised - also publicly - by a few respondents, what else does she have to do with her time right now?
She won't find a beacon back. She won't make her way back home. She's stuck, she's here, and if eventually she'll come to accept that as her truth, she's not there yet.
They did give her some clothes, a pair of robes that go all the way down to the floor, that she's had to hem shorter herself. As much as she is not a stranger to wizarding robes, there's something distinctly odd and unpleasant about wearing these, with nothing but her underwear beneath - so since they were dispensing with breeches as well, she took a pair.
So she stands out, of course. Breeches tucked into boots, long-sleeved robes shortened to under the knee and cinched at the waist with a belt. The glowy hand is a bit of a giveaway. There is no kerchief on Hermione's head (should there be?!), but at least she's tamed the cacophony of curls up into a bun at the top of her head, her wand pierced through it, looking unobtrusive - mere decoration! Pay her no mind!
Except of course, she hears her name be called, and turns with a bit of an overeager smile. ]
Miss Tavane? [ She's coming at you with a hand stretched out for a handshake, Ness. Get ready. ] Please, Hermione is fine.
She won't find a beacon back. She won't make her way back home. She's stuck, she's here, and if eventually she'll come to accept that as her truth, she's not there yet.
They did give her some clothes, a pair of robes that go all the way down to the floor, that she's had to hem shorter herself. As much as she is not a stranger to wizarding robes, there's something distinctly odd and unpleasant about wearing these, with nothing but her underwear beneath - so since they were dispensing with breeches as well, she took a pair.
So she stands out, of course. Breeches tucked into boots, long-sleeved robes shortened to under the knee and cinched at the waist with a belt. The glowy hand is a bit of a giveaway. There is no kerchief on Hermione's head (should there be?!), but at least she's tamed the cacophony of curls up into a bun at the top of her head, her wand pierced through it, looking unobtrusive - mere decoration! Pay her no mind!
Except of course, she hears her name be called, and turns with a bit of an overeager smile. ]
Miss Tavane? [ She's coming at you with a hand stretched out for a handshake, Ness. Get ready. ] Please, Hermione is fine.
Plenty of people here willing to spar. Or not. Do whatever you want.
“Was he…”
Usually Strange is so quick to throw out his questions, with few barriers to his scalpel-sharp curiosity, but this time there’s an uncustomary hesitation. There’s simply no elegant way to ask, Was he a haggard homicidal maniac or was he, like, normal.
He. I. What an odd sensation. It’s like knowing you blacked out and did something, somewhere out there, because at the end of the day it is still you; but he has no idea what he did or what his relationship with this girl was like.
So there’s that ruminative look on his face as he finally sits down, joining Hermione at the table. Takes a breath, decides to rip off the band-aid, raw honesty.
“Well, I hope it was a positive impression and he wasn’t trying to destroy the world or anything. I understand that’s an occupational hazard with Doctor Stranges.”
Usually Strange is so quick to throw out his questions, with few barriers to his scalpel-sharp curiosity, but this time there’s an uncustomary hesitation. There’s simply no elegant way to ask, Was he a haggard homicidal maniac or was he, like, normal.
He. I. What an odd sensation. It’s like knowing you blacked out and did something, somewhere out there, because at the end of the day it is still you; but he has no idea what he did or what his relationship with this girl was like.
So there’s that ruminative look on his face as he finally sits down, joining Hermione at the table. Takes a breath, decides to rip off the band-aid, raw honesty.
“Well, I hope it was a positive impression and he wasn’t trying to destroy the world or anything. I understand that’s an occupational hazard with Doctor Stranges.”
[ the good thing about being a people pleaser to your bones is that you get very good at reading people and making intuitive leaps. hermione comes at ness with her hand held out, not like she wants to take something from her but with expectation of reciprocation. this is their first meeting, she's introducing herself—the outstretched hand is a greeting ritual of some kind. does ness hold out the same hand, or the opposite?
coin toss odds she gets this right, she shifts her bundle of books and notes to one arm and holds out her hand in a mirror of hermione's greeting.
(it's the wrong hand, but she tried.) ]
Hello, Hermione, [ warmly, smiling right back. ] You needn't be formal with me, either. If Ennaris is a mouthful, Ness is alright.
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