Truth be told (and it might be, considering how much rice wine she's had so far), Hermione is staring. She might even get caught. But it's hard not to, in her defense.
To set the stage: the room is dark, fire crackling in the fireplace and candles lit around the room for the both of them to see. They've long abandoned the chairs and the table, throwing a blanket (or two) in front of the fireplace for warmth, and both of them sitting on it. It might be the second bottle of rice wine, if not the first. It's hard to tell if that's a bad thing - these bottles are so small, and the wine tastes sweet, like dessert, like an indulgence.
Another indulgence is the way the soft, warm glow from the fire touches Wen Qing's features. The black hair, the dark eyes, and the pale and perfect skin - all in contrast and also blending with the darkness of the room, and gods, she's beautiful.
They've been discussing, in very glossed over terms, the whole realisation Hermione has had that there are perhaps both men and women that she would very much like to kiss. And that perhaps it's not just limited to the binary, if she's thinking about it - some species don't think in that kind of definition, right? Why limit herself.
There's something wistful and beautiful about the evening. A quiet conversation with a friend, with no pressing concerns, no need to hide away in fear or trepidation, or keep the monsters at bay. A darkened room, but intentionally so; the fire is warm, the wine is sweet, and the company is dear.
After the Burial Mounds, after all of Akhuras, there isn't much more that Wen Qing wants. Maybe, at this point, an actual kiss, but that thought has long since been abandoned to the whims of the world. And when Hermione asks, all she can muster up is a sigh and a grimace.
"I realized long ago that I wanted to kiss both. Women more than men, if I'm honest, but there have been a few men I have considered." She brings the bottle to her lips, drinking freely, indulgent. "But there was never time. I had a-Ning to care for, and then my uncle's madness meant little freedom. So I stopped thinking about it at all."
Desire is still there, and she isn't blind to the beauty of her companions. Even now, Hermione's fierce expressions and delicate features twist something in her. But like extended happiness and a long life, she cannot fathom anything more than this.
This must be it, must be akin to finding one's tribe - the mutual understanding that they both prefer the same things in life. She can't help but be comforted by it.
A smile happens, and after another sip of wine, a bold question: "And has anyone here caught your interest in that way?"
Why is she nervous? Why does hearing the answer - whether it's a yes or a no - fill her with trepidation?
(Surely, Wen Qing who is so clever and observant and incredible, surely she's seen right through Hermione's 'admiration' by now, spotted the crush for what it was.)
A flutter in her stomach and a faint blush on her cheeks is the immediate response to that question. For all her words, she has thought about people here in that way. Is it shameful to admit to it?
But then, what does it hurt?
"Yes. Some of our companions are beautiful, and I admit to appreciating that." She stops, chewing on her lip for a moment, then straightens her shoulders. She's faced death; how is confessing to a crush harder than that?
She shifts her attention to look at Hermione directly. "Among those, I have gotten to know a few closely, and that is where the real attraction lies for me. Of those, there is one I'd like to kiss."
A pause, and then: "Have you met anyone here you'd like to kiss?"
She thinks she knows the shape of Hermione's feelings, the unspoken thing between them, but it is not a situation she would press without confirmation.
She knows what the moment calls for - more wine. Hermione follows the protocol, albeit nervously; she picks up the stubby bottle and refills Wen Qing's cup first, then her own, all the while painfully aware that she is blushing brightly.
"It was definitely not Miang-Si in the public square, I can tell you that," she pipes up, her voice pitching up in a way that betrays her nerves.
Has she met anyone she would like to kiss, in Akhuras? Of course, plenty of people here are woefully attractive and intelligent and appeal to the sapiosexual that lives within Hermione, but she has been so good at ignoring the attraction, at brushing it off as mere admiration. Idolisation.
"I didn't think of how much I wanted to kiss someone until I learned about myself that I would like to kiss women, as well. It's - I know I must be dreadfully naive, but this whole experiencing attraction for both women and men thing is a bit new to me, in the sense that I have not felt at liberty to explore it until just now."
She take a sip of sweet rice wine and makes a little pursed-lips face. "Anyway, to directly answer, yes. Yes, I have." Courage, you Gryffindor, she tells herself, and looks towards Wen Qing. There will be a pink blush on her cheeks, and her expression will be hopeful but also terrified.
It takes courage to admit this, and someone - Hermione thinks - will have to spell it out in words. Simple, undeniable words. Her gaze flickers to study Wen Qing now, take her in as the Wen Qing B.C. (before confession). (It's not that she expects the woman to be outraged at her boldness, but - oh, Merlin, she doesn't know what she expects, so she might as well just -)
"You." She sucks in a breath. "I'd - you are very much the person I would like to kiss."
Edited (i decided to edit this) 2024-06-28 08:30 (UTC)
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silverneedles; i thought about an au
To set the stage: the room is dark, fire crackling in the fireplace and candles lit around the room for the both of them to see. They've long abandoned the chairs and the table, throwing a blanket (or two) in front of the fireplace for warmth, and both of them sitting on it. It might be the second bottle of rice wine, if not the first. It's hard to tell if that's a bad thing - these bottles are so small, and the wine tastes sweet, like dessert, like an indulgence.
Another indulgence is the way the soft, warm glow from the fire touches Wen Qing's features. The black hair, the dark eyes, and the pale and perfect skin - all in contrast and also blending with the darkness of the room, and gods, she's beautiful.
They've been discussing, in very glossed over terms, the whole realisation Hermione has had that there are perhaps both men and women that she would very much like to kiss. And that perhaps it's not just limited to the binary, if she's thinking about it - some species don't think in that kind of definition, right? Why limit herself.
"What about you?"
no subject
After the Burial Mounds, after all of Akhuras, there isn't much more that Wen Qing wants. Maybe, at this point, an actual kiss, but that thought has long since been abandoned to the whims of the world. And when Hermione asks, all she can muster up is a sigh and a grimace.
"I realized long ago that I wanted to kiss both. Women more than men, if I'm honest, but there have been a few men I have considered." She brings the bottle to her lips, drinking freely, indulgent. "But there was never time. I had a-Ning to care for, and then my uncle's madness meant little freedom. So I stopped thinking about it at all."
Desire is still there, and she isn't blind to the beauty of her companions. Even now, Hermione's fierce expressions and delicate features twist something in her. But like extended happiness and a long life, she cannot fathom anything more than this.
no subject
A smile happens, and after another sip of wine, a bold question: "And has anyone here caught your interest in that way?"
Why is she nervous? Why does hearing the answer - whether it's a yes or a no - fill her with trepidation?
(Surely, Wen Qing who is so clever and observant and incredible, surely she's seen right through Hermione's 'admiration' by now, spotted the crush for what it was.)
no subject
But then, what does it hurt?
"Yes. Some of our companions are beautiful, and I admit to appreciating that." She stops, chewing on her lip for a moment, then straightens her shoulders. She's faced death; how is confessing to a crush harder than that?
She shifts her attention to look at Hermione directly. "Among those, I have gotten to know a few closely, and that is where the real attraction lies for me. Of those, there is one I'd like to kiss."
A pause, and then: "Have you met anyone here you'd like to kiss?"
She thinks she knows the shape of Hermione's feelings, the unspoken thing between them, but it is not a situation she would press without confirmation.
no subject
"It was definitely not Miang-Si in the public square, I can tell you that," she pipes up, her voice pitching up in a way that betrays her nerves.
Has she met anyone she would like to kiss, in Akhuras? Of course, plenty of people here are woefully attractive and intelligent and appeal to the sapiosexual that lives within Hermione, but she has been so good at ignoring the attraction, at brushing it off as mere admiration. Idolisation.
"I didn't think of how much I wanted to kiss someone until I learned about myself that I would like to kiss women, as well. It's - I know I must be dreadfully naive, but this whole experiencing attraction for both women and men thing is a bit new to me, in the sense that I have not felt at liberty to explore it until just now."
She take a sip of sweet rice wine and makes a little pursed-lips face. "Anyway, to directly answer, yes. Yes, I have." Courage, you Gryffindor, she tells herself, and looks towards Wen Qing. There will be a pink blush on her cheeks, and her expression will be hopeful but also terrified.
It takes courage to admit this, and someone - Hermione thinks - will have to spell it out in words. Simple, undeniable words. Her gaze flickers to study Wen Qing now, take her in as the Wen Qing B.C. (before confession). (It's not that she expects the woman to be outraged at her boldness, but - oh, Merlin, she doesn't know what she expects, so she might as well just -)
"You." She sucks in a breath. "I'd - you are very much the person I would like to kiss."