driftfleet | ( #001 )

Who: Hermione Granger and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva, baby
When: From now until shuffle!

[ When she wakes up, the first thing that's obvious to her is that this is not her house; it's nothing like it, and that's more than enough to have her drop her hands to her hip - where, again, there's nothing familiar. The next stop is around her neck and it's obvious that she finds some comfort there, her fingers sliding around a ring before she breathes out and moves to sit up. At least some things are familiar, and she recognises a video feed when she sees it, lifting her free hand to push her hair out of her eyes. ]

Well, this isn't the Drabwurld, is it.

[ She sounds remarkably put out about it, shifting to stand and adjust her weight, her fingers finally dropping away from the ring around her neck. It's only then that she really looks into her feed, wondering if it worked just like the lockets did - and, at the same time, wondering if she ought to be afraid. Considering the number of worlds and things she saw and went through in the Drabwurld, however, she thinks that it'll take a little more than this to put her on edge, even without her weapons. ]

I don't suppose anyone here has heard of Nimh Gleanne? Leathann? ... Anything like that?

[ There's a kind of awkward hopefulness in her voice as she tries to smile, the scar on her cheek shifting with her lips. ]

Anyone?

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[He's getting to be more than used to it, so the comment just gets a nod. The concept of different worlds is far from the most outlandish thing he's ever dealt with, after all. Most of the people he's met here are from Earth or a variant thereof, centuries in 'his' future or decades in the past.]

I spent a lot of time in London.

[And Peggy Carter grew up just outside it. That in and of itself is the singlemost reason the city endeared itself to him. That, and all the time spent in pubs during brown-outs.]

Mind if I ask what year it was for you? Roughly.

[ It might have been strange to her, once upon a time, but now? Now the idea of different worlds, different people, experiences - it's just normal. Perhaps not your average kind of normal, but normal all the same, and she welcomes that. ]

Really? Isn't it lovely?

[ Still, she has to pause to think - not because she had forgotten but because it does bring back memories. ]

1998.

It's a beautiful city. One of my favourites I've been to.

[His sincerity is palpable. He is so very, very fond.

Also: '98.

(Three of his Commandos, not counting Peg, were alive then. The thought is directionless, it ricochets about in the sound stage of his conscious mind and he dismisses it out of turn.)

Offhand, he knows: that was the year Clinton was impeached. Google was founded. India and Pakistan both tested nuclear weapons. Saving Private Ryan was released. His grasp of individual years is fuzzy, the knowledge defined by events rather than specifics. He's caught up to the eighties now, back home. Everything else is cursory.]

I'm a little ways ahead of you-- 2015.

[He's inclined to say that gently. He's the last one to ever rub the 'future' in someone's face.]

I miss it, I really do. Three years away from somewhere really makes you realise how much it felt like home.

[ She could say the same for Hogwarts; that had been home, just as much as the Drabwurld had been. She misses the walls and the staircases, the lessons and the students, even the teachers - and, oh, the homework and the library. Nothing in the Drabwurld could ever really compare and she's more than glad that she was able to have a chance to see it again before she was dragged here.

Rubbing her eyes, Hermione shakes her head, offering a small smile. She isn't too worried about the future - it couldn't be worse than the war she's fought in, twice over. ]

I don't suppose there's anything I ought to know? The war ended in Britain, but...

[ Who knows what American wizards have been up to. ]

[It hits him harder than he was expecting. He didn't need three years to come to any such realization, but it's the same length of time he's been out of the War (his War, in all the ways that matter most) and what he told Stark was just-- smoke and mirrors. Meant to deflect. The future is where he lives, but it's not his home.

He rubs his thumb idly over his brow bone.]

Which war?

[ Things have been hard - really hard - but having friends at her side meant that it was a little easier. Steve had been one of those people, one of the ones she trusted and cared about, and it doesn't really matter if he doesn't remember her. She still loves him; she still cares about him.

That's what's important; he's here, and he's okay. ]

The Wizarding War. It was, um, between us and the Dark Lord Voldemort. We fought against him because he wanted people that believed in the things he did - the purity of blood, that people without magic should die - to be in charge.

[Sounds like something out of a comic-book. Steve doesn't bother with incredulity - most of his life has been an actual comic-book, and he's willing to trust that she's not lying at least until proven otherwise.]

I think you're right about different worlds. I, ah... can't say I know anything about that. I'm-- ['sorry'. But he's said that once already, and has no desire to belabor the sentiment into uselessness.] -- I wish I had better news.

To be fair, a lot of it took place in Britain and a lot of it was a secret. Non-magical people weren't supposed to be aware of magic - they weren't supposed to know we existed at all, really. I don't blame anyone for not knowing about any of it.

[ Most of the physical damage from that war is a long forgotten memory, now; even her mudblood scar has disappeared. What remains are scars from a newer battle and Hermione breathes out. ]

Is it peaceful, at least, where you're from? For the most part?

( #001 )

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