Will hears Hannibal speak, but the exact words don't really register.
He knows enough Latin to hear the word 'heart', and the other
syllables float around in Will's half conscious mind and eventually
become sentiment just as he loses the last light of reality to sleep.
He dreams about the Wendigo, black skin and sightless eyes, proud
antlers reaching toward a full moon. It wanders slowly along the
perimeter of Will's dream vision, barely more than a shifting in the
dark, until finally it steps into the moonlight, turning its eyes on
Will.
That's when it crumbles, comes apart like ash, scattered across the
flat ground. From the charred black remnants a fire is born, an ember
at first and then a flame, one that grows taller and hotter, warming
Will's skin. He closes his eyes to the flickering and the touch
becomes human, warm hands on his bare skin, tugging him in, pulling
him close. He lets go, feels himself twining with Hannibal, their
bodies tangled, merging, their hearts beating in unison, and then
growing together, one organ feeding them both.
It's cold when Will wakes, the sun having set leaving the kitchen
bathed in darkness, lit only by ambient light from the city as it
filters in the window. They've shifted some in their sleep, but
they're still pressed close, sharing body heat, and though Will's body
is aching, and he knows Hannibal will be awake himself soon enough, he
allows himself to lay still, to listen to Hannibal's breath and feel
Hannibal's heart beat. The words from before filter back into his mind
and he puts them together, Hannibal's restless heart finding
quietness, comfort, love, in Will.
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Date: 2016-05-06 06:37 am (UTC)Will hears Hannibal speak, but the exact words don't really register. He knows enough Latin to hear the word 'heart', and the other syllables float around in Will's half conscious mind and eventually become sentiment just as he loses the last light of reality to sleep. He dreams about the Wendigo, black skin and sightless eyes, proud antlers reaching toward a full moon. It wanders slowly along the perimeter of Will's dream vision, barely more than a shifting in the dark, until finally it steps into the moonlight, turning its eyes on Will.
That's when it crumbles, comes apart like ash, scattered across the flat ground. From the charred black remnants a fire is born, an ember at first and then a flame, one that grows taller and hotter, warming Will's skin. He closes his eyes to the flickering and the touch becomes human, warm hands on his bare skin, tugging him in, pulling him close. He lets go, feels himself twining with Hannibal, their bodies tangled, merging, their hearts beating in unison, and then growing together, one organ feeding them both.
It's cold when Will wakes, the sun having set leaving the kitchen bathed in darkness, lit only by ambient light from the city as it filters in the window. They've shifted some in their sleep, but they're still pressed close, sharing body heat, and though Will's body is aching, and he knows Hannibal will be awake himself soon enough, he allows himself to lay still, to listen to Hannibal's breath and feel Hannibal's heart beat. The words from before filter back into his mind and he puts them together, Hannibal's restless heart finding quietness, comfort, love, in Will.