allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

What if there is no tomorrow?

Only more Hinterlands

Maybe the Inquisition sent you, maybe you came seeking the Inquisition. Maybe you fell out of a rift into this world last week and are still just trying to find your feet. However it happened, the first days of the new year find you in the Hinterlands. Tucked between Ferelden's massive Lake Calenhad and the icy Frostback Mountains, the Hinterlands are a hilly region covered in patchy forests and small farms trying to eke out a living between the boulders. Though somewhat remote, the area is rich with game and minerals and home to Redcliffe, a bustling town on a busy trade route.

Lately the Hinterlands have also been full of mages and templars and rifts, all threatening to turn once-peaceful countryside into a dangerous warzone. The Inquisition has set up several camps and sent personnel to try to restore order to the region, unwilling to let it slip into chaos. There's a lot to be done, some of it straightforward killing bad things, some of it weird and nebulous morale-building.

STILL WITH ADDED SNOW AND NOW ALSO ADDED KINDNESS TO ANIMALS (MOSTLY).

1. IF I GET SCARED, YOU'RE ALWAYS AROUND

You have turned the wrong corner in the snow, forded the wrong stream in the snow, crested the wrong hill in the snow, entered the wrong cave in the snow. Maybe you are far from camp, in the snow. Maybe you are in camp, which is also snowy. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased through the snow by bears. Did you throw a snowball at the bears? Are they huge and snow-dusted? Babies burrowing through the snow drifts and coming for your ankles? Fade-touched in addition to snow-touched? Controlled by cold mages who are hiding in the snow? Popping up out of the snow like a game of whack-a-mole? What are they chasing you away from in all of this snow? What are they chasing you into, other than more snow? What warm things do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them in the snow? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you in the snow? P.S. It's still snowy.

2. THEY SAY WE'RE YOUNG AND WE DON'T KNOW

The Inquisition has, possibly, been a little too good at dealing with the Hinterlands' bear problem, and a group of concerned citizens--including young burgeoning naturalists, farmers concerned about the effect an unchecked population of rams may have on their crops come spring, and at least one woman who claims to be directly descended from bears--has taken issue. Maybe they're blocking your character's attempt to enter a bear-infested area. Maybe they've doused your character in bear blood. Maybe the bears they have been working so hard to save have cornered them in the wilderness and they're changing their tunes.

3. WITH YOU I CAN'T GO WRONG

The Inquisition's (cough Leliana's) habit of communicating by raven works out fine, usually, but this particular raven has gone a little rogue. It's not the raven's fault! She's young, she's trying. But she has very important information tied to her leg, and instead of delivering it, she's joined a flock of identical wild ravens to hunt for food in the snow. Recover her, somehow, without hurting her and making any spymistresses angry.

4. BEFORE IT'S EARNED, OUR MONEY'S ALL BEEN SPENT

The tavern at Redcliffe remains as busy as ever, filled with locals, travelers, and Inquisition members. But this month in addition to the usual free-flowing ale and rowdy conversation there is also a contest going on. Bakers have come from across the Hinterlands bearing their very best in an effort to win a coveted ribbon and the title of Best Cake. They pack the tavern and spill out into the surrounding courtyard when the weather allows, cakes sold off tables, out of packs, small chunks given away to whoever is passing and not paying enough attention to refuse. The votes are carefully guarded by several serious looking fellows in the back corner of the tavern. In addition to traffic issues, the cake madness has also caused an infestation of large local rodents, who have appeared out of their holes to devour the many crumbs. Legend has it that if they can be humanely eradicated from the tavern before the final vote is cast, spring will come early. No one in living memory has succeeded, but you are strongly encouraged to try anyway.

5. AIN'T NO HILL OR MOUNTAIN WE CAN'T CLIMB

Hunt game so you can rescue it before other hunters get there, kill demons or maybe just try to hug it out?, dig under the snow for herbs or plant some of your own to replace what others have taken, track bandits through the snow and see if they need a hand, deal with someone charging extortionist coat prices now that it's snowing and convince them to do the right thing, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow and admit it was your own fault, get lost circling the same hill ten times trying to find a way up to the weird glowing skull on a stick you can see is up there in the snow so that you can give it a decent burial, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow and be careful not to knock them down, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow but leave a nice apology note, run from a dragon in the snow and promise not to trespass on its territory again, definitely don't kill any fennec foxes, set up camp and chat around the fire about your feelings because it's snowy and cold, give yourself a pat on the back (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your playground.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hermione's sort of busy running for her life, so she doesn't notice that there's anyone else on the scene until she hears a voice calling for her to climb up a tree. It had definitely been a thought, but she needs to make sure the bears would be distracted long enough for her to do that, since she's not exactly the best climber.

So she turns around just enough to glance behind her, catching sight of the woman who'd apparently called out to her. Just when she's about to turn back, though, she notices a strange shift, and it's not just in the fact that the bears are no longer paying her the most attention.

Oh. A werewolf. Who can control her transformations, apparently. That... shouldn't be possible.

But okay. She isn't going to look a gift wolf in the mouth, especially not if that mouth ends up being indiscriminate about what it eats up. So she's only all too happy to take the distraction offered to her, scrambling up the nearest tree and deciding that she can always perch herself as high as possible and use that vantage point to figure out where to aim her wand, if need be.

In fairness, running for your life is a pretty good priority to have. For now, Red - or the Wolf, more accurately - is fighting for hers. Two bears at once, and there have been times when she's had to face down a pack of wolves, or soldiers sent by Regina in the old days, or King George when he wanted revenge on David. She about matches the bears, for size - a little smaller, maybe, but she can move fast and twists to lunge at the throat of one. It's a messy fight, blood splashing across the snow.

The problem with two against one in a melee fight was that it was easy to get surrounded, so even as one of the bears goes down with her tearing at its throat, the other batters her back with outstretched paws, and the Wolf is all but tossed against a tree by the action.

She may have over estimated herself, this time around, and the Wolf is always that bit stronger during Wolfstime.

All things considered, Hermione would have much preferred not having the view she'd managed to procure for herself. She felt awful for the bears, considering that she had incited this whole thing by foolishly thinking she could pet their cub and then attempting to Stun it when it acted on its instincts, and the idea of that cub losing its parents....

It makes her sick, just as it does to watch as the wolf that had attempted a rescue gets slammed against a tree, and so she tries to do something to salvage both her rescuer and at least one of the bears. Encouraged perhaps by the snow around them, she gets out her wand, pointing it at the advancing bear and crying, "Glacius!"

Though it isn't as strong as it ordinarily is, a layer of ice immediately forms around the bears paws, slowly creeping its way upwards until all four legs are frozen within the ice. Hopefully it's strong enough to keep the bear back for a bit, but not strong enough that it will freeze or starve to death before it wears off.

Though she wants to see if the newcomer is all right, she knows better than to wholly trust a werewolf in its wolf form. If Remus could attack her, then she certainly isn't going to trust a random stranger not to, preferring to watch and see what she does next.

Ice crawls up the bear's legs, and the other is already down from its injuries. It gives the Wolf the chance to draw back, glancing between both before it turns and it moves at a run, even as it limps from the scratches down its back. She stumbles, and between the trip and pushing herself back up, she is Red once more. The scratches are still raked down her back, but her clothes are intact as she reaches the tree, following the young woman's trail.

"Hey," she starts, and it's a little breathless as she tries to ignore the sharp pain at her back. "Was that you, the ice?" There's a note of concern in that, maybe, but it's more related to the follow up: "Are you okay?"

Red is leaning against the tree as she stoops to pick up her cloak, winching a little and trying not to.

Hermione is watching that wolf carefully, noticing very distinct differences between it and the wolf she'd seen Remus transform into. She also notices the injuries that had been sustained, and she frowns deeply as she cautiously makes her way halfway down the tree, still opting to keep her distance even when the wolf is once again a woman. She doesn't hate lycanthropes, not by any means, but she knows enough to be cautious. She'd seen what Greyback had been capable of even while in his human form, after all.

She wants to ask whether this woman has had a draught of Wolfsbane Potion to keep the wolf in her in check, but that feels rude, even in the midst of everything else. More than etiquette, she's concerned about those wounds, and so that encourages her to hurry the rest of the way to the ground.

"I'm fine; are you?" she asks, carefully making her way towards the other woman. Agitating a werewolf isn't the smartest thing to do regardless of the apparent current temperament, so it seems prudent not to just barge in and attempt to heal her without her full awareness of it.

"I've gotten good at healing charms, but I don't know if I have anything in my bag for the deeper scratches. I can see what I can do, though."

"I've been better," Red admits, with a rueful smile. She's not one to complain about injuries, but... yeah, ow. Her eyebrows raise a little at the healing charms bit, and her mouth quirks a little, worried. An offer of magic is not necessarily a bad thing, inherently. Even so, it is a complicated matter to consider. "I can get by. 'All magic comes with a price,' right?"

That's what her grandmother always told her, and it's a hard lesson to forget. Especially after seeing everything she has, hearing and learning. She's been dragged around by curses more often than she cares to admit, and people always lost so much. Ella had almost lost her child and her husband, Granny carried agonising pain and sacrificed some of her memories, Regina had given up Henry (and even though she's not a fan of the mayor, that was still a devastating thing to think about.) Indulging where herbs and poultices could make do seemed reckless, almost, but the scratches are deep and she's not sure she wants to see what her back looks like, right now.

Looking over in the direction of the bears, she tilts her head. "There a town not too far from here. I think getting chased by bears through the snow is a pretty good reason to sit down and get some food." She goes to move forward a step, and stops short, "Oh! I'm Red."

She blinks at that question, not sure how to take it. "That's... superstition, I think, isn't it?" Hermione's read about New Age theology and what Muggles consider magic, insofar as things like Karma and keeping the universe in balance and all that sort of thing. If this woman is a Wiccan or some such thing, she certainly doesn't want to risk offending her religious beliefs... even if she must know about wizards and witches, if she's a werewolf. "Unless you think I'm going to charge you, but since I'm not a healer, that would be unscrupulous."

She can't really imagine trekking towards the nearest town with an injury like that, but at the same time, hanging around where at least one bear was still conscious and possibly still able to break free didn't seem like the best of ideas. "Hermione," she replies, clearly still looking too concerned to focus entirely on pleasantries. "And personally, I think it would be best to put a little distance between us and the bears before stopping long enough for me to have a look at your back. The risk of infection is too high a price to pay, especially when you were good enough to help me."

A little smile, but she's starting to walk, casting a gaze over her shoulder to ensure the bear is still frozen. "Clearly you've never asked for a favour from Rumpelstiltskin," she replies as they walk. "And you probably want to keep it that way."

Bargains with the Dark One, with any wizard, were risky. Rumpelstiltkin was just especially twisted, it seemed.

"Hermione," repeated, making sure she can remember it. "I like how you think." Still, she exhales a quiet huff of a laugh. "But, honestly? I wasn't going to let someone get eaten by a bear. And besides, you helped me out already." With the ice charm, she means. Come on, if we go this way we'll be downwind."

Nodding to a bit of a slope and a break through the trees, she starts to lead the way, and away from the slope there are the flickering lights of a town.

Hermione only smiles quizzically; she's heard of Rumpelstiltskin, of course, but only in the fairy tales. If Red is referencing a real person, Hermione clearly knows nothing about him.

"Not everyone would jump into a fight that isn't theirs to save a person they don't know," she points out as she walks alongside her. "And, well-... don't take this the wrong way, but most werewolves would have been more likely to get rid of the bears so they can eat me instead."

She hates making generalizations, though, leading her to quickly add, "Unless you're actually an Animagus? That would make more sense, given your transformation. You just fought an awful lot like a werewolf, so it's a bit hard to differentiate the two, in this case."

"Maybe not," Red can concede. As Hermione goes on, well. She could wince, at that. Could, but does not; instead her expression just becomes a little sadder, and she makes a point not to look at Hermione for a second. It's not judgment, it's just painful, harks back to the terrible night when she discovered what she was, what her grandmother had concealed from her.

"Most wolves think they have to fight humans for the sake of their survival," she replies, softly. "I've never met one who relished eating a human. Not if they were in control of what they were doing." After a beat, Red tries to force something a little less quiet and unhappy into her tone, with mixed success. "Granted, I've hardly spent any time with other wolves."

But, hang on. "Ani-what?" She doesn't stop, because they need to keep moving, and she's holding a branch out of the way for Hermione as they walk. "I've never heard that word before. Some people call us werewolves, like you, and another wolf I knew called us 'Children of the Moon,' if you can believe it, but..." Red trails off, smile apologetic and perplexed. "Animagus doesn't ring any bells."

Still, she brightens. "By the way, the control you had on that ice spell was amazing. Sometimes magic just seems so vast, you know? I mean, I associate it with two of the scariest people I know, and if you want to talk about people who wouldn't help a stranger..."

Red trails off. Maybe that's unfair to Regina, but in fairness to her, Regina is kind of a jerk even when she isn't evil.

Hermione's quiet for a moment when Red mentions never having met a wolf that relished eating people. She could tell her stories about Fenrir Greyback,and how Hermione had watched as he bit into a young girl with manic glee during the Battle of Hogwarts, but she doesn't exactly enjoy discussing Greyback. He'd been the sole reason Hermione doesn't automatically assume that all werewolves are tragic heroes like Remus anymore.

She does get confused when Red doesn't seem to know what Animagi are, though, and Hermione's wondering more and more if she's somehow walked into a very different magical community from any of the ones she's used to. Especially when she gets praise for something as simple as a Freezing Charm.

"Thank you," she says first, since propriety always wins out. "But it's basic magic. I think I learned it my second or third year at school."

After a moment's hesitation, she explains, "Animagi are wizards and witches who've learned to turn themselves into a specific animal. A dog or a rat, for instance. If someone willingly learned how to become a wolf, they'd still have complete control of themselves while transformed."

Unsure of how much more she'd say might need explanation, she asks, "You're not a witch, then, are you? Do you at least know someone who could make you a Wolfsbane potion?"

"There's an entire school for magic?" Wow. Whatever world she's gone and fallen into (not where she wanted to be, thanks a lot magic bean), it sounds very, very different from her home. "This place is amazing. Magic isn't... as far as I know, anyway, magic isn't common enough to have a whole school. It's more like a really scary mentor system."

But no, Red shakes her head. "No, I'm a wolf, as much as I'm human. It's a part of me, not something I learned how to do, but I did learn to control it. It was sort of like," and she smiles a little, rolling her eyes a little as she thinks, "it was kind of the biggest after-school special on self acceptance you can imagine. Except with much higher stakes."

Automatically, Red hopes over a boulder on the downward slope, hissing a little at the pain from her back as she lands, but looking up with a smile as she offers Hermione a hand to steady herself.

"I'm no witch," she clarifies. "Just a wolf and a waitress." And a fairy tale character, can't forget that. And, jokingly, "I'm more of a coffee person. Not sure if Wolfsbane would have quite the right kick to it."
Allowing herself a moment to be more serious and less likely to deflect everything with humour, Red goes on. "What does it do? Stop you from changing?"

"Several schools," Hermione mentions. "But one in Britain. Which, given your accent, might be some distance away." A considerable distance, if Red could really be a werewolf despite not being a witch or knowing anything whatsoever about the wizarding community. As far as she knows, most Muggles die after being infected with lycanthropy, and as they don't have access to any potions or know where to find other supplies they might need, they don't generally manage to live under the magical radar for too long.

Other than her accent, Hermione does realize that Red never directly refers to herself as a werewolf, only as a wolf, making her frown a little. Before she can ask after it, though, she's forcibly reminded of the woman's injuries, and she takes Red's hand primarily to get her to stop, trying to guide her to sit on the ground.

"Here, sit for a bit while I look at your back. We should be far enough away from any predators by now." And if not, she sort of assumes Red would be able to smell anyone approaching, even if that's an unfair judgment of her capabilities when she's not entirely sure what she is yet.

Opening her small bag, she rifles through it to see if it has the vial of dittany she'd originally packed into it, back before this had all been a dream... followed by not-a-dream. "Wolfsbane doesn't stop you from changing, no. But it helps werewolves retain their faculties during the full moon. Otherwise, they act like feral animals." Withdrawing a tiny ornate bottle from her back, she looks at Ruby once again and concludes, "If you're in control of your transformations, then you wouldn't need it; most werewolves, though, would take it so they don't go around slaughtering people during the full moon."

"Britain," Ruby repeats, and then she's grinding to a halt, which works pretty well considering Hermione is telling her to sit, and she's inclined to agree. Her thought process is fairly visible, given that it is basically wait. wait wait. wait. what. wait. on a loop for about half a minute before she looks to Hermione. "Britain as in... England and Scotland and..."

She hardly can get that out, before she's cutting herself off. "But that's in the world world without magic." And no matter what else has happened, Red is very certain that is not where they are, now. "What about, um. Misthaven? Nottingham? The Enchanted Forest? Do those names mean anything to you?"

Because it looks like this just got a whole lot more complicated. She's pulling off her cloak as she speaks, and has to unlace her bodice and slowly loosen it a little so she can ease her shirt up and off her shoulders. "I did not miss how inconvenient this thing is," Red mutters as she tries to expose her back to make this easier, without just taking everything off. It is still cold, after all.

"They're probably trying to fight the transformation. You have to, um." God, it's so weird to hear about werewolves from someone who isn't one. "You have to embrace it. The moment you try to reject the wolf is the moment it takes over."

"And Wales, yes," Hermione tells her conversationally, though she looks at her curiously at her further question. Well, at least she's familiar with the magical world, even if whoever might have told her about it had been either lying or mistaken. "And I'd hate to break it to you, but the magical world isn't actually a separate world. It's just its own community within the non-magical world. There are many witches and wizards left, but we're far from extinct and have spread out a ways."

She pauses to think it over, wanting to make sure Red is given as much accurate information as possible. "Not of Misthaven, no. But of course I've heard of Nottingham; I've never been, but every child grows up hearing about Robin Hood. As for the Enchanted Forest, that could be any number of forests. The one I'm most familiar with is commonly known as the Forbidden Forest. It's in Scotland, though I don't think you'll ever find your way there, if you're not a witch. It's just as well, really. Most of the creatures there aren't particularly friendly." Especially not the centaurs, but that's a story for another day.

Crouching down behind Red as she struggles with that bodice, Hermione asks, "You don't usually dress like this?" She isn't one to make any assumptions based on clothes, given that growing up with wizards and witches has given her an odd sense of fashion. Her mother usually has to remind her how to match patterns when she returns home on holiday.

Luckily, dittany doesn't particularly sting so much as tingle, depending on the wound, so they should be able to carry on their conversation while Hermione carefully dabs it onto Ruby's injuries, occasionally muttering a soft healing charm. "That's an interesting theory," she says after a moment. "But I've seen people embrace that side of them. It doesn't help. It just makes them worse." She's pretty sure Greyback had been more wolf than man, by the end.

Oh, boy.

"I think," she starts, with a bit of a pause, "This is about to get a lot more complicated." At least it's something else to think about while her back is stinging and aching, though it merits a few moments of thought before she dives in. Should she tell this person, at all? She doesn't know her, just helped her out of a jam, and now the favour is being returned.

"There is a separate magical world. Maybe not the same at the magical world you're talking about, or the same... world." Voice going softer, Red can't help but mutter a quiet, "God, this is weird to explain."

Where to start, even? Hermione knows about Robin Hood, so that's something she supposes. "I need you to imagine, just for a second, that there's a world where fairy tales aren't stories, they're real. They're history, or they're the people that you know, and the kings and queens that are ruling. And that they are totally separated from Earth."

A quick glance over her shoulder, as if to try and assure Hermione that she is not, in fact, out of her mind or lying or just messing with her. Even with everything she has seen and done, Red has a kind of desperate earnestness to her. Not innocence, not any more, but earnestness she has in spades. "Like Robin Hood. I've met him a few times. I know how he likes his coffee, and I saw him and Snow White's wanted posters up all over the Enchanted Forest."

And a few of her own alongside those, but she was never so infamous as Snow and Robin. She's pretty sure that Regina only ever saw her as Snow's inconvenient pet.

"This is... how I dress when I'm at home, in Mist Haven. I just haven't been back there for a while."

Let's not even touch the curse, right now, she's not sure she wants to go there at all.

"It's not a theory. I know what I've done when I'm not-- when the Wolf is on her own. That is a monster. And maybe you have different wolves in your world, but in mine? It's the only way." She doesn't want a hint of pain to invade her voice, but it does, and has nothing at all to do with the cooling sensation from the dittany, or the remaining scratching that are still awaiting attention.

Behind her, Hermione frowns as Red tries to explain, though it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. She's acting as though they're from two completely separate... not just worlds, but realities. She would know if there was another magical world or pocket dimension or whatnot tucked away somewhere, wouldn't she? She couldn't imagine not having come across even rumors of such a thing.

She can almost buy someone having met Robin Hood, if it turns out that he's some sort of ancient wizard of legend or if she'd somehow had access to a Time-Turner. It's the talk of Snow White that makes her stop, looking at her incredulously. She doesn't mean to, but it's hard not to.

"If you mean fairy tales being real in the sense that they're the basis for legends, I could believe you. I've seen as much for myself, and fairly recently, too." Not that she'd grown up with those particular fairy tales, but Ron and others who'd been raised in magical families certainly had, and there'd been a lot of truth to "The Tale of the Three Brothers" that had helped them throughout the war. "But if you mean actual fairy tale characters being real and alive and not just individuals who'd lived once upon a time and had their stories recorded, I don't know what to make of that."

She doesn't stop applying the dittany for too long, though, even if that frown stays fixed as she continues. "Are you trying to say we're from separate worlds entirely? As in alternate realities? Because I know for a fact that Snow White has never existed, or if she did, it had been so long ago that her story has been altered throughout history; dwarves certainly exist, and a cursed apple isn't beyond the scope of possibility, but being woken up by a kiss...! Robin Hood might have once been a person, but-...."

Cutting herself off, she turns her head enough to try and look at Red's face, still thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, back at home? And how can you acknowledge them as fairy tales if you're claiming to know these people? Do you just walk into a world where fictional characters come to life but live the rest of your time someplace else?"

"Snow White does exist," she says, tired. "She's my best friend. She was with me when I found out about the wolf. She and David, they're king and queen."
Though, for all that she sounds exhausted, she does get it. When she was under the curse she wouldn't have believed any of this, either. There is something fond in her voice, though, when she speaks - fond and lost, or sad, or maybe just longing. "True love is the strongest magic out there. Even the Queen's magic couldn't stand in the way of that. It wasn't the kiss, exactly. It was the love."

True love was different for everyone, though. Some people had it. Some people lost it. Some people destroyed it, like Red.

"Different world as in... As in I threw a magic bean on the ground because I wanted to get home, and when I jumped through the portal, this is where it spat me out."

"I'm..." Red sighs, and clutches the cloak closer to herself. "There was a curse that took us from our world, and it-- it changed us. I wasn't joking when I said it was complicated."

For a moment, Red looks up at the sky, and there's an unhappiness in her gaze, as snowflakes settle on her eyelashes. This is so hard to explain to an outsider, and she's realising that maybe being isolated in Storybrooke all those years wasn't the worst thing out there. "Picture a curse powerful enough to rip people from their world, and take them somewhere else. No memories, nothing." A little glance towards Hermione, but she doesn't linger, too concerned what she might see there.
"No more happy endings. And when you're in the world without magic, then fairy tales are just stories. We knew different stories, but they weren't the same as us. Little town in Maine, called Storybrooke. The curse was broken, obviously." And she lets out a little huff of laughter, at that. "Because of true love, again. I know it sounds... completely impossible."

Hermione's frown only deepens at all of that. David? She doesn't recall there being a David. Unless that had been Prince Charming's real name, but even then, she'd never heard of Snow White having a best friend named Red.

Out of everything she says, there's only one thing that really makes sense. "Love is the strongest magic. I'm no romantic, but I've seen love save lives. Just... not romantic love." And she hopes she never does, given that she'd never want someone to sacrifice themselves for a lover the way Harry's mum had for him. She'd never want anyone to go through their lives, knowing they're the reason someone they love isn't here anymore.

She doesn't know if the bit about the magic bean is literal or metaphorical, and she has the feeling that she's going to have that confusion more than once, where Red is concerned. She doesn't understand what's going on, especially since the answer seems to be magical in nature and yet has nothing to do with any kind of magic she's familiar with. There's no spell that can change reality to the point where several people can be ripped from their world. Save for the Killing Curse, that is.

... but then, how else would they have found themselves here, in a place that neither of them seem to recognize as home?

"... Storybrooke," Hermione echoes after a moment, trying not to sound completely incredulous. "You're saying that Snow White and Robin Hood were your neighbors in a town called Storybrooke, and you'd never known the truth?"

But then... what if their names had been altered? Snow might not be a common name, but perhaps Charming had only been a nickname for David, and if she'd only known Robin by his first name....

Or... she's one of the fairy tale characters herself.

That much should have been obvious, but it only strikes Hermione now, and she blinks down at the woman once she finishes with her back. Red. A cloak. And a wolf.

"You're not...Little Red Riding Hood?" she asks, already laughing because really, that's just a silly supposition to make in light of nothing more than coincidences and a peculiar story.

"The second time wasn't romantic. True love isn't just for romance. Sometimes it's friends or family. Love is important all around, I guess."

And, she holds up a hand. Scout's honour. "Actually, that was part of the curse. No memories of home, different lives. Snow was Mary Margaret Blanchard, and she taught at the primary school. I was Ruby, and I worked at my Granny's diner. We were just... normal."

If she sounds a little nostalgic? It's because she is. She wouldn't give up being Red, but there had been a lot of stuff that she'd been better off forgetting, happier not knowing. "And Robin didn't turn up for a long time, but that's a whole different story. Some people got left behind. It's... it's convoluted," is the only thing she can say. Because it was. It was so confusing to think about.

The look she throws Hermione is somewhere between amused and indignant. "Just Red. No one's called me 'little' since I was fourteen, tops. Geez, tease a girl for her name. Feels like being a teenager all over again."

But, huh. She rolls her shoulder a little, and after a moment, adds, "It feels a lot better. The scratches, I mean."

"Like a mother for her son," Hermione murmurs absently. She doesn't know that it echoes the case Red's referencing, but it's exactly what had happened in her world. Lily Potter is about the only reason Hermione can bring herself to believe something as maudlin as love being behind the world's most powerful magic.

Before Red even gives her a proper response regarding her name, she mentioned working at Granny's diner, and the strange retelling of the tale already starts forming in her head. It's enough to make Hermione forget about having wandered from a dream and into the path of hostile bears, if only because understanding this happens to be a more pressing matter at the moment. "Well obviously you're not little, but-..." she begins, trailing off with a small frown.

Shaking her head, she remarks, "I find all this hard to believe. Magic can do all sorts of things, but the magic you're talking about... it shouldn't be possible." She pauses for a moment before admitting in a low murmur, "But then, neither should going to sleep on a completely normal evening and waking up in an unfamiliar forest with bears attacking you."

Whatever the case, she's sure that no one cares what she does or doesn't believe, and so she focuses on the more important thing at the moment. "They shouldn't even scar," she tells her, glancing at her back once more. "I'm glad I had the dittany with me. I've gotten better at healing charms over the years, but I'm still not nearly as good as I could be if I don't have the right potion."

Red can't help but look at Hermione, with those words. An odd silence hangs between them, and she has to clear her throat because it sounds rough. "Yeah. Something like that."

And... she doesn't seem to believe her. Or is struggling with it? It's entirely fair, honestly. They'd all thought Henry was just having some kid phase with all that talk about fairy tales and telling everyone who they were. The memory makes her grin, even if there's something bittersweet in it. "Imagine being a waitress and having a kid you've known since forever telling you that you're really Red Riding Hood." And a little huff of laughter. "And trying to get you to take up carrying a basket everywhere."

Still. Still, there are so many things to struggle with, here. So much she could (maybe should say), and she's got no clue where to start - or stop, for that matter. It's like a ball of yarn, and once you start pulling at it, all keeps rolling out. Or maybe the metaphor would work better with tangled headphones. No matter what you can do, it doesn't seem to get any better.
"It would be better if it wasn't," Red starts, trying to remember the way they'd all responded. "And we hadn't thought it was. And then we didn't think there'd be a way to break the curse, but... there was. Somehow it all fell into place." But her smile is a little rueful. "But magic is definitely something most people are wary of, I think. You hope and wish and dream about it, and sometimes the reality isn't what you hoped for."

With the work on her back seeming done, Red lets the blouse slip down lower again, before pulling the bodice back into place and tugging the strings tighter before she starts to tie it. "I'm glad you had the dittany, too. That stuff is amazing."

Hermione isn't the sort of person that puts much stock in belief. She needs facts, she needs probable cause, she needs - at the very least - a solid hypothesis and a method with which to prove how viable it is or isn't. The only reason she'd ever managed to bring herself to believe in magic is because Professor McGonagall herself had shown her proof positive that it exists.

"I would have politely suggested to the child's parents that they look into therapy," she replies, managing a small, awkward smile. "It does seem a bit more fantastical than the sort of thing the average child might come up with."

Hermione doesn't know how to approach Red's specific situation, leaving her at a bit of a loss. She doesn't know how to help her, or if there's even anything to help. It leaves her in something of an uncomfortable situation, and so she settles on a topic tat she knows she can at least expound a bit upon.

"It's very hard to get a hold of," she responds. "Or at least, it's a little pricier than most herbs. But that's because you don't really need a lot of it to get the job done. I only needed a few dabs to heal what could have been a very nasty Splinching, so the scratches were simple enough."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TEST DRIVE MEME!

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sorry for my slow, post moving chaos may never actually end

hopefully that's not true, but never worry about slow with me! ♥

lmao yes oh man that'd be terrible ♥ thank you

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