snowblindrpg | [log] And You've Receded Into Loam [closed]

[ Once he had been grabbed and physically yanked away from the creature, something resembling reason and a self-preservation instinct had kicked in. As such, Will didn't even grouse at being given sharp orders. He set himself to the task of checking every single window to make sure the locks were engaged. ]

Do anomalies climb? [ He asked, looking at where this house seemed to have access to a second floor.

As for House's sharp words towards Hannibal? They were both big boys and didn't need him playing referee. Besides, better to let them have it out than sit and stew.

...

No cannibal pun intended. ]

Sometimes. Deerly Beloved doesn't look like a climber, though. More like pry open the doors and windows-er. They're at least marginally limited to the abilities of the apparent form they take.

I'll go check the upstairs windows anyway. [ Will decided. Better to check than end up with a nasty surprise coming down the stairs.

He paused at the base of the steps and looked back at the other two men, his expression concerned. ]

If you two have to indulge in bloodshed ... trying to work it into an experiment or something.

[ The younger man's expression as the words left his mouth suggested he understood how lame that sounded and after exhaling a breath, he shook his head and scurried up the steps.

Sooner he checked the windows .... ]

[Once they were inside Hannibal was already moving to lock the windows and assess other ways of barricading the entrances. . He didn't flinch one bit at House's words. Quite the opposite. He smiled, laughed quietly, as he glanced out the window at the creature, taking in its form, so deeply significant to Will, and therefore to himself.]

You must feel quite powerless, to make such a useless threat. You've never seen this creature, and you have no idea the significance it holds to Will.

[The laugh and observation make House bristle even further. He does feel powerless. His best weapon against Hannibal--information--is a double-edged sword. The moment it gets out what Hannibal is, he'll be liberated. There won't be a reason for him to hold himself back or hide, which might lead to more bloodshed. Antagonizing Hannibal personally is, according to Will, likely to result in people like Wilson being targeted. There isn't a way to win, just degrees of losing with significant bloodshed on his conscience any way about it.

House doesn't like feeling backed into a corner, but he doesn't have anything else really to use against Hannibal. Not unless he wants to murder Will, or something, and take that pleasure away from Hannibal, and that's not going to happen.]

You've never seen it. I have. I've been in his dreams. I know exactly what he thinks it is and what it means. That asshole murdered me.

[The stag, Will... either/and.]

[There was nothing House could do that Hannibal had not considered and did not have detailed contingency plans for. To say that any attempt to harm him or Will would not end well for House was an understatement, and Hannibal knew House was aware of that. He understood how being frightened and powerless would make the other doctor lash out, so he was willing to consider House's attitudes in that light, and trust that once the threat passed, the hackles would lower.

House's response was unexpected, however, and Hannibal glanced at him, his eyebrows raised, interest piqued.]

Really?

[He turned his eyes back to the creature outside, a smile playing on his lips.]

Atta boy.

I hate you.

[It's growled more as a reflex than because he actually hates the other man. Hannibal is too interesting to actively hate.]

You wanna observe that thing, get up close and personal with it through the window all you want.

[House is hoping Hannibal gets very up close and personal through the window. The acute MN Poisoning effects should kick in across the glass. Dizziness, nausea, nose-bleeds. It's absolutely petty to wish that on the other man, but petty is what the doctor has at the moment.]

Edited 2018-02-01 01:13 (UTC)

[Those first words were again met with a smile and a quiet laugh, the amusement stemming at least partly from the fact that House's reflex is reminiscent of a teenager flinging those words at a parent in a fit of pique.

The next words, however, highlighted sensations in Hannibal's stomach and head, sensations that had been edging into his awareness. He drew back from the window, and surveyed the room.]

If this floor is secure, I would like to check on Will.

[Damn it. He wanted to see some blood. At least a little bit. House entertains the notion of storming over and slamming Hannibal's head against the pane of glass for roughly two seconds. It's a darker fantasy that will have to stay fantasy, though. He's no physical match for Hannibal--the initial encounter with the anomaly outside has made that abundantly clear--and it would probably just make the other man grin to get that kind of rise out of House.]

After you almost got him swallowed whole? Sure. Go on, Doc.

[He sees those two seconds as that impulse passes through House, that slight tightening of his muscles and narrowing of his pupils. He smiles, the ghost of the grin that he would have were House to actually try something physical. The grin he would wear as he slammed the other man to the floor before walking away.]

If I wished Will to be swallowed whole, he would be. It would have been interesting, to see what happened. What he was like when he came back. If he came back. But I am far more interested in keeping Will safe than I am in finding out what happens if he is eaten by the creature that has haunted his thoughts for most of the time I've known him. I have every intention of protecting him. Like I have every intention of protecting you.

[He moves toward the stairs, pauses, and looks back over his shoulder, that faint smile grown sharp.]

For now.

[He begins to climb the stairs.]

[Vicious intent and rebellion are swallowed up by terror. Anger covers over it again a moment later as the doctor drops his gaze in submission. Submission for now, anyway. The anger is directed inward. He hates that he is so scared. Hannibal hasn't even done anything to him apart from the restraint with the anomaly and even that hadn't really hurt House, it had just prevented him from getting to Will. But it's that anticipation of coming pain, humiliation, and hunger. It makes him think of his father, and that's galling.

The anomaly pounds at the door that House is pressed against and House's nose begins to bleed as the world tilts slightly.

He closes his eyes and just bears it.]

[ Will had been upstairs, doing a sweep of the windows but mostly straining his ears listening to the conversation down stairs. He told himself he was listening for the unfortunate sound of physical violence.

He was having to dab at his upper lip in a steady effort to stem the blood flowing from his nose. Ignoring the nausea was simply a matter of course, but the dizziness was making a nuisance of itself. None of it was anything Will hadn't had to struggled through before, the same for the pain that was now his constant companion.

But it contributed to his being a little off step as he turned to face Hannibal.

Will knew his best move was to silently separate from House. They were soon going to cross paths with people who House could go on with, where the doctor wouldn't be alone, Will could take Hannibal and put a safe physical distance between everybody before Hannibal took it into his mind to move against the diagnostician.

It would protect House and also possibly buy the people who were important to the diagnostician some time and safety as Hannibal would have to work a little harder to determine weak points. It was the safe and smart play; which was why Will's internal voice facepalmed when the words fell from his lips as the psychiatrist crossed the last step. ]

What do I need to do? [ Will's voice was soft, barely carrying the space between where he stood near a wall and Hannibal. He didn't expand further, waiting to see if Hannibal picked up what he was asking on his own.

It wouldn't be the first time the psychiatrist was in his mind, after all. ]

[Hannibal was well aware that Will and House were friends, despite the effort both put forth to hide the fact, for different reasons. Will had tried to turn Hannibal away from House more than once, which, likely to the younger man's consternation, only drew his attention more to the other doctor. But as he moved toward Will, step by step, he tilted his head slightly at the question, eyebrows slightly raised, then shook his head.]

Nothing.

[Coming close, he took Will's face in his hands, feeling the temperature of his skin, looking into his eyes, close enough to smell the blood dripping from Will's nose.]

As nettlesome as the good doctor can be, he is of more use to us alive.

[ Standing, tense and ready Will didn't pull back when Hannibal approached and reached for his face. Quite honestly, he was so used to those deadly hands checking his cheeks and forehead for signs of illness -which he only sometimes disclosed- that Will stayed docile under the touch.

There was no real fever, though Hannibal's nose would definitely pick up the scent of blood and general malaise. Close to his eyes, the psychiatrist could probably also read the levels of pain that Will would never show. Classic predator habit of hiding weakness. ]

In the beginning, [ he began, having to pause and lick at his lips as a trickle broke free from his nose ] that was my argument for keeping him alive against a lot of people who wanted him dead.

[ Will had been looking down at the front of Hannibal's peacoat, but now he looked up into those dark, unfathomable eyes, studying their depths before he whispered. ]

It would be easy to kill him, the challenge has been in keeping him alive. [ As much from House's own self-destructive habits than outside forces, and Will was not above playing that card. Look at what had happened with Bella. ]

I trust him, Hannibal. I can see him, most of the time, and I can't say that about the others in this place.

Edited 2018-02-02 04:35 (UTC)

[Hannibal saw that pain in Will's eyes, and while he was unsurprised, it did give him the smallest twinge of something akin to guilt, for having allowed that thing to hurt his friend. One couldn't truthfully say he regretted what he had done, but he might have been less likely to do it again.

Hannibal listened to Will's explanation of why House should be allowed to live, and saw clearly both text and subtext, both the rational reasons for defending the other doctor as well as the emotional reasons, the friendship Will had formed. He gave Will a small, reassuring smile.]

He is safe. I promise.

[His eyes glimmered.]

Until you say otherwise.

[ The words sounded practically sweet, when taken without the glimmer in those dark eyes. Will felt a combination of relief and absolute dread as he read what went unspoken in Hannibal's declaration.

He could already see the game forming, briefly weighed calling Hannibal out on it, but ultimately decided to let the words stand on their own merit for the time being. The dance could be taken up later. ]

I'm holding you to that. [ He grumbled softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Hannibal's shoulder, exhaling a deep breath. It was just for that breath and almost immediately he straightened, blue eyes searching Hannibal's face. ]

How are you feeling? [ After all, though it was also Will's first experience with an anomaly, he had experience with MN poisoning from the time he and House dragged off a dead body. This was Hannibal's first experience with both.

And Will knew how fiercely the apex predator guarded his health. He lowered his voice, making sure he couldn't be over-heard as he inquired. ] Being unable to dictate the state of your physical well-being ... it's got to chafe?

[When Will rested his forehead against Hannibal's shoulder, the older man leaned his cheek against Will's head for that brief moment, reaching up to gently stroke his hair. When Will straightened Hannibal resettled that hand on Will's shoulder, a companionable touch. The question led to Hannibal glancing to the side, drawing in a breath.]

My physical well-being was out of my hands for quite some time when I was imprisoned. A chafing that I am sadly more used to now than I had been previously.

[ Arching his eyebrows, Will tilted his head slightly and pointed out. ]

I told you to run. [ He held up his fingers. ] Twice.

[ He was not going to feel responsible for the older man's imprisonment. Even if it had been his job, each time, to catch him. When were things ever simple between them? ]

Still. This is similar and at the same time, not the same. We haven't really had a chance to talk about it. [ He reached up with one hand and rested it lightly against Hannibal's cheek, as if to tilt the man's face towards his own; to study his eyes. ]

What is going on in that head of yours?

And both times I could not leave without you.

[Hannibal had made a choice to surrender on that lawn in Wolf Trap, so he could not entirely lay the responsibility at Will's feet, but it would be disingenuous to claim that Will did not have a big part in putting him behind that glass. Not that Hannibal felt any need for retribution against his friend. Not now, after everything.

He looked into Will's eyes, leaning into the touch, allowing both his eyes and weariness to tell Will that he wasn't feeling well.]

With regards to anything in particular?

[ For Hannibal to allow it to show that he was feeling less than well, meant he was at a level of discomfort that would lay out most men. Glancing around, Will began to nudge the older man towards the bed that sat in the room they were in. There were no sheets, but it would allow them both to get off their feet. ]

Where would you like to start? [ He asked in return. ] This place. Being trapped here. What we appear to have to do in order to survive. The other personalities in this place. The ghost collective. The Prophet ...

The wear and grind of ... all of it.

[ He looked at his friend. ]

Even prison wasn't as stark and unpredictable as this place.

[Curious, how they seemed to be having a conversation, with their customary roles reversed. Hannibal moved with Will toward the bed, waiting for him to be seated first.]

I'm curious about the genesis of the phenomena related to the Prophet. As the girl herself has no power, the effects must be coming from elsewhere.

[ A conversation where one of them was not trying to shank the other one, nor directly double speak him. Amazing what this insane town could reduce them too.

Will took his seat, but waited for Hannibal to join him, listening to the man with genuine attentiveness and also curiosity about how Hannibal was process Norfinbury. ]

As if she was randomly appointed a figurehead, without her understanding and certainly without her consent; she was a child. She must have been incredibly frightened.

I mean, I would assume. Nothing I've read about her suggests she was ever anything other than a normal, young girl.

[Hannibal sat next to Will, in a reflection of the moment before the Botticelli. He smiled at his friend, both remembering and appreciating how things had changed. He reached over to take Will's hand.]

That was what the collective said. The girl was blind. And the townspeople went insane. There was no power, no supernatural forces whatsoever. Only a frightened little girl and a frightened populace desperate for salvation.

[ Rather than drawing away from the contact, despite the way his body ached, Will threaded his fingers with Hannibal's, while also frowning thoughtfully. ]

It still seems an extreme reaction. [ He said. ] And from the public data files, we saw there were protests, at least, before the missile strike happened.

I've sat and thought about this on and off, as the nights spun outwards here. What was it about Samantha, that these town people hung everything on her slim shoulders. There were adults to following, more vocal protesters ... she was a typical child.

[Hannibal squeezed Will's hand.]

She was stricken of her sight. Prophets have so often been blind, their divine sight taking the place of their worldly sense. There's also a psychosexual significance to the eyes as parallels to the gonads. In the radioactive fallout, it is possible the people were also rendered sterile. She may have become a symbol in that respect as well.

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