Hermione bit down on her thumbnail as she perused through the pages, pausing for a longer amount of time on Buck's portrait. Out of all of the alters, he seemed to be the one who contrasted most with the others, the one who couldn't be attributed to a night dedicated to reliving one's past, or couldn't be brushed off as a woman dressed in her Sunday nines. "Persephone," Hermione repeated with a soft and incredulous laugh. "I wasn't aware that people even named their guns, but I suppose... if you have such a great attachment to any tool, it can take up a life of its own."
Pulling her legs onto the bed, Hermione let out a quiet exhale, pausing in her perusal of the album. "You know, I'd always known that stress could affect people in any number of ways, but I'd never really stopped to consider the implications, over the years. I don't know how much of it's really my story to tell, but ever since I entered Hogwarts— the school I ended from age eleven forward— there was always something that seemed more pressing or immediate," she considered, tilting her head. "It seems that no matter how quickly I tried to learn back then, there's still so much more out there to understand. So much that we, as a group, don't yet."
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Date: 2011-09-19 04:40 pm (UTC)Pulling her legs onto the bed, Hermione let out a quiet exhale, pausing in her perusal of the album. "You know, I'd always known that stress could affect people in any number of ways, but I'd never really stopped to consider the implications, over the years. I don't know how much of it's really my story to tell, but ever since I entered Hogwarts— the school I ended from age eleven forward— there was always something that seemed more pressing or immediate," she considered, tilting her head. "It seems that no matter how quickly I tried to learn back then, there's still so much more out there to understand. So much that we, as a group, don't yet."