halfbloodhill_logs | Covering Bases (Open)

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Covering Bases (Open)

Who: Hermione Granger and whomever happens to cross her path
What: Training/practicing her magic
Where: Near the lake
When: Sunday, August 4th, early evening
Why: Because after the hectic changes that occurred over the last week and a half she doesn't feel like angering any of the other gods

Of course she was secretly smug about the fact that she'd followed the rules this time. She hadn't incurred the wrath of Hera. She did feel slightly sorry for those who had been punished though.

On the other hand, this just pushed Hermione further into the mindset she often waffled on; was she there to learn, or there to make friends and push boundaries? She knew she belonged at Camp because she was a demigod and she knew she was there to train and protect not only her family and others in her home town, but herself.

Her magic was powerful. That much she also knew. Over the last three years that she'd been attending Camp she'd grown stronger and better than she had been as a 13 year old. But she also knew she still had a long way to go. Fire spells and the creation of illusions were impressive, sure, but if she settled for mastering only a few skills where would she be?

She waited until later in the day when the lake was more or less cleared out save for maybe a few of the other campers. They weren't a huge concern though. Not anymore. She was just going to mind her business for once and settle in to recite her incantations and focus on her magic. She's doing her best to keep one eye on her form and one eye on the area around her to ensure nobody sneaks up on her.

Yeah, good luck with that, Granger. It doesn't help that by now it's pretty well-known among her group of acquaintances that she always comes to the same spot.

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She scoffed. "That's not what I said, and you know it. I was merely suggesting that sometimes...you push people." That's what children of Hermes did best, wasn't it? Persuasion and manipulation. "I just want to make sure neither of you are pushed too far."

She gave the older girl a look. "I push people away. That's it.

"What's the difference?" She knew there was a difference for most people, but she honestly wondered if Eponine had a distinction between the two.

"The difference is I don't do well when people get close to me, and they don't do too well close to me, either. When people get close to me, they get seriously fucked. I mean it: I spent my formative years in a two-bedroom apartment in the most run-down part of Brooklyn. And besides, I'm not exactly a people-person." She takes a long inhale of her cigarette.

That, and if people got too close, and learned her full story... She was open about being here on court order, but there were parts of her life she'd rather keep hidden.

Other than the quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was overhearing them, she kept her eyes trained on Eponine's face. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it...

"When was the last time you really tried?" Well, she said it anyway. Hermione was still under the firm belief that if people tried hard enough some answer had to reveal itself sooner or later. Maybe it was naive, or perhaps she was just that stubborn. It was hard to say what her motivations were, and she knew that the other girl was most likely going to react much like Ron did when asked why she wasn't trying hard enough.

Oh my god, Hermione, stop with the advice, she wanted to moan, but, instead, Eponine took another drag of her cigarette. Honestly, she appreciated that she was trying to get her to open up. Same as she did when Enjolras got on her case and tried to get her to admit her life wasn't hopeless. She got care here that she never would have even thought was possible, back at home.

"During the ill-faded Revoluncheon," she said, referencing Enjolras' plan to try to get Hera to let them all sit together rather than at cabin tables. And, actually, during the fall-out, when she had to play doctor to a poisoned Courfeyrac, because not only had he gotten her powers, but he'd gotten her ring, too. Not the ring knives, but rather, a small ring that, if opened, contained a poison spike. It had been a 'look, you're my daughter' present from Hermes himself, so, apparently, it went to Courfeyrac.

Fun fun fun.

The trouble with being an insufferable know-it-all (or an ex-insufferable know-it-all) was that habits died hard and that included preaching advice. At this point she didn't even care if Eponine acknowledged it. Hermione had started to learn how to pick up when the girl was listening and when she was just blowing her off. It was half of the reason she never seriously gave up on trying. Naturally it frustrated her to no end, but it was just another project of hers.

No, not a project. But not quite something she'd call a friendship either. Maybe it didn't need a label.

She can't help but grin slightly at the name, trying not to let it grow too wide lest Eponine misinterpret it. "I suppose that actually did take a large amount of effort on your part. How badly did it backfire on you?"

If Hermione and Enjolras teamed up to try to get Eponine to listen and actually absorb (which she did), perhaps together they could actually get her to act on the advice they gave her, even if it was something along the lines of calling child services in order to help Azelma and Gavroche.

How badly did it backfire? Pretty badly. Okay, she got some coffee cake out of it, and half of a sandwich, but the food here was free anyway, so whatever.

Wordlessly, Eponine transfered her cigarette into her right hand, and held up her left hand, palm towards Hermione. On it was a careful line, the dark pink of freshly healed skin, spanning her palm. "I'd say pretty badly. But it could have been worse."

It helped ease her mind a bit to know that other people were also looking out for the girl, but at the same time she had to wonder how far gone she already was. Still, she was always a little pleased the more they talked. It always felt like progress.

However, whatever she was expecting her to say today wasn't that, and she's left staring at her palm. It's hard to ignore the shocked look on her face. People get hurt in Camp all the time. That wasn't a secret; they were half-bloods and could take beatings moreso than mortals. The problem was that that looked fairly fresh and still healing and it bothered her.

"What happened?"

Eponine was so far gone that she, personally, had no hope of returning. Others only saw part of the picture. They didn't see the deep festering wounds that were in her heart and mind. So of course they thought there was hope. Eponine, meanwhile, knew she would die before she was 23.

"Don't look so shocked," she said, trying to shrug off Hermione's shock. "I was talking with Prouvaire and needed fresh air." Rather, she'd left the cafeteria too quickly, needing to get out. "I was playing with a knife when he joined me, and I switched my grip. No big deal." She'd refused any sort of ambrosia for no reason other than pure stubbornness.

As if she wasn't used to people who always were well-versed in the cold, hard facts. Ron continually reminded them of how short of a life demigods lead. Still, it didn't stop her from wanting to try and keep people as far away from the edge for as long as she could.

"Oh. So it was your own fault." Her expression relaxed into something less shocked and more stern. "It's still sort of a big deal."

"How is that a big deal?" She asked, looking at Hermione incredulously before taking another hit from her cigarette. "Accidents happen, no big. I'm healing and I'll have a bad-ass scar for a bit, then it'll fade. The end. No harm, no foul."

"Because it's still a lack of control. Isn't it obvious?" Apparently it wasn't obvious since Hermione seemed to be the only one who really cared still. Yes, accidents happen, but all she could see was the outcome of an accident involving Eponine and Charlie. She didn't like it one bit.

"No-- you don't even know the context. I was fucking stressed out. Calm down." Since when had Eponine ever honestly been in control? Never. There had never been any semblance of control in her life at all, at least, control that she got to claim as her own. So she tried to take it in what little ways she could.

She huffed, shutting her mouth and waiting for the girl to continue. Calm? Calm isn't always in Hermione's vocabulary, but she also knew that Eponine was...unstable. Unstable was a great word.

"Okay...so...less stress then. How can we manage that" Besides not being demigods, of course.

Unstable, drug addled, alcoholic, mother fucking crazy. Any of it worked to describe Eponine, though if you called it to her face, she'd probably punch you. She preferred words like vindictive, spiteful, jealous.

She raises an eyebrow at Hermione. "There are a lot of ways I could manage being less stressed. For instance, if I knew that my siblings were getting full meals. That would make me less stressed. Or if we actually had enough money to pay rent every month. That'd be good. Or if I wasn't stuck here all summer till I turned 18. How about we start there?" Her words and eyes turned cold as she spoke, her eyes narrowing.

It was hard to picture life as Eponine, especially when you were actually marginally well-adjusted like Hermione was. She was baffled into silence then, and she at least had the grace to look ashamed of herself.

"...sorry. I shouldn't have..." She didn't apologize often, but she knew when it was necessary.

"Damn fucking right you shouldn't have," she all but spat, turning her eyes away from Hermione, looking out towards the water. Her cigarette moved to her mouth mechanically. Sometimes, if you were lucky, Eponine was in a sharing mood, and would talk about her life without too much snark. But today was really not one of those days.

She should have stopped there. She should have walked away to go back to her practicing, but this was Hermione. She was sort of known around camp as being something of a meddling, bossy girl.

"...you realize even if it isn't me, you should eventually tell someone everything, don't you?"

"Everything?" She gives her an incredulous look, turning back. "No one knows everything. I'm pretty sure if I told someone everything, no one would speak to me again. And I don't trust anyone here with the private details of my life at home, thank you very much."

"It doesn't have to be everything all at once," she argues back, determined to make her point get through. "Doesn't it ever bother you to not have anyone to rely on?"

"No," she says automatically. Of course it does. It's agonizing to curl up in bed crying into your pillow night after night.

"Trust me, it's easier if I don't have anyone to rely on. No one relies on me, so why should I return the favor? It's not like anyone's going to be able to save me from my terrible life. And I don't want a fucking savior."

"You don't have to have a savior to accept help," she snaps finally. Isn't that what she had to learn the hard way with Ron? It's really, really not her business. She knows that, but she knows she's one of the only stubborn people that might make a real effort. "No one relies on you because you won't let them. It's give and take...and maybe saving isn't the right word, but making it more bearable? That's doable."

"Y'know what?" She puts her cigarette down on the rock, moving to stand. "I really don't need to be lectured about my life and how to handle it by some girl with a perfect family and a white picket fence who doesn't know what it's like to go hungry or to be used like a pawn, or anything! The only thing that would make any of this more bearable was if I died. Got it?" There was a fire in her eyes as she rounded on Hermione.

Normally she would back down immediately, but today she was feeling a little more confident than usual. That was probably going to backfire really fast, but for the moment she was going to stand her ground. "I think you do, and I do not have a perfect family!"

Close, yes, but not perfect. She'd never clarify the difference though. "You're being stubborn and you're making it worse for yourself, so why won't you just listen?"

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