Fanfiction: The Sweet Reward of Patience (Hannibal TV)
Title: "The Sweet Reward of Patience"
Status: OneShot
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Characters/Pairing: Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: T
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dark Fantasy, H. P. Lovecraft, gen
Warnings: unbeta'ed
Summary: Hannibal Lecter is not human. Neither are his appetites...
Note1: Based on a prompt from hannibalkink on DW, to be found here.
Note2: I don't know Lovecraft or the Old Ones, but I found a quote and went with it...
The Sweet Reward of Patience
Hannibal stood and watched, his focus beyond the mist rising from the nearby river or the filthy street; a dead end in many ways. The lone lamp around the corner barely illuminated the spray of red on walls and pavement but its light got caught in long blonde hairs, made them gleam golden.
The questionable beauty of a mortal body, now stained and soon lost to decay.
His eyes, shining like oil with streaks of teal, lay instead on the one he had chosen. His dear Will, who was oblivious to his silent shadow, who could neither see nor perceive the humanoid shape standing just behind him.
Will breathed in deeply, senses already lost to the reality of this moment, inhaling the stench of another's sin rather than that of the garbage strewn beside the corpse. His eyes closed, steeling himself to no avail, to do Uncle Jack proud once more.
Hannibal was content to observe, standing at the breaking point between the two realms that shaped all things in creation. Formed as toys to amuse his own kind all was madness, and mankind's delusion of grandeur was as sweet as it was laughable.
There are no gods to be found, just monsters.
Will Graham reached out, careless like a child that chased the butterfly to rip its wings. Darkness rushed towards him, unseen, crawled into his lungs to slowly drown and fester; his racing heartbeat a struggle for survival.
His gift tore a hole in the veil that was all that stood between him and all the horrors beyond imagination, to peek through and gain insight into a killers deeds by making them his own, clutched tight to his chest like something precious. Never aware that Will chipped away at his soul, his nightmares its death-throes, his grip lost on the realm of his birth, another world visiting him in seas of blood, ghosts of the dead and a stag adorned with feathers.
Hannibal inhaled deeply and the coil of insanity running through Will was a dark pulse at the core of his every cell and it smelled delicious.
This meal would be an indulgence. Stepping away from that small child with empty eyes that had sat beside its dead parents had been the right choice. He had watched it grow, fed it its own kin when contact was reestablished and when Will was truly lost the recognition would make this feast all the more sweeter.
Still, there might be something even more precious hidden in good Will, a redeeming factor, perhaps, one that might lift him above mere food to sustain a creature older than time and beyond human grasp.
The veil then parted before Will, allowing him glimpses that Hannibal wove for him with a gentle hand and deft fingers, teasing with pain and insanity. For now, the true horrors would hide in broken mirrors, reflections distorted in scattered shards.
Hannibal inhaled the rich scent, how it mingled with Will's cheap aftershave. His tongue was blood red as he licked his lips in anticipation, its tip touching pale skin.
Will shivered, aroused by the throes of a dying woman, locked into her killers skin. Something cool startled him and his concentration was lost. Fear rushed down his spine, but it was only the wind, ruffling his hair.
["The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen." ~ H.P. Lovecraft]
The End
Status: OneShot
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Characters/Pairing: Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: T
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dark Fantasy, H. P. Lovecraft, gen
Warnings: unbeta'ed
Summary: Hannibal Lecter is not human. Neither are his appetites...
Note1: Based on a prompt from hannibalkink on DW, to be found here.
Note2: I don't know Lovecraft or the Old Ones, but I found a quote and went with it...
The Sweet Reward of Patience
Hannibal stood and watched, his focus beyond the mist rising from the nearby river or the filthy street; a dead end in many ways. The lone lamp around the corner barely illuminated the spray of red on walls and pavement but its light got caught in long blonde hairs, made them gleam golden.
The questionable beauty of a mortal body, now stained and soon lost to decay.
His eyes, shining like oil with streaks of teal, lay instead on the one he had chosen. His dear Will, who was oblivious to his silent shadow, who could neither see nor perceive the humanoid shape standing just behind him.
Will breathed in deeply, senses already lost to the reality of this moment, inhaling the stench of another's sin rather than that of the garbage strewn beside the corpse. His eyes closed, steeling himself to no avail, to do Uncle Jack proud once more.
Hannibal was content to observe, standing at the breaking point between the two realms that shaped all things in creation. Formed as toys to amuse his own kind all was madness, and mankind's delusion of grandeur was as sweet as it was laughable.
There are no gods to be found, just monsters.
Will Graham reached out, careless like a child that chased the butterfly to rip its wings. Darkness rushed towards him, unseen, crawled into his lungs to slowly drown and fester; his racing heartbeat a struggle for survival.
His gift tore a hole in the veil that was all that stood between him and all the horrors beyond imagination, to peek through and gain insight into a killers deeds by making them his own, clutched tight to his chest like something precious. Never aware that Will chipped away at his soul, his nightmares its death-throes, his grip lost on the realm of his birth, another world visiting him in seas of blood, ghosts of the dead and a stag adorned with feathers.
Hannibal inhaled deeply and the coil of insanity running through Will was a dark pulse at the core of his every cell and it smelled delicious.
This meal would be an indulgence. Stepping away from that small child with empty eyes that had sat beside its dead parents had been the right choice. He had watched it grow, fed it its own kin when contact was reestablished and when Will was truly lost the recognition would make this feast all the more sweeter.
Still, there might be something even more precious hidden in good Will, a redeeming factor, perhaps, one that might lift him above mere food to sustain a creature older than time and beyond human grasp.
The veil then parted before Will, allowing him glimpses that Hannibal wove for him with a gentle hand and deft fingers, teasing with pain and insanity. For now, the true horrors would hide in broken mirrors, reflections distorted in scattered shards.
Hannibal inhaled the rich scent, how it mingled with Will's cheap aftershave. His tongue was blood red as he licked his lips in anticipation, its tip touching pale skin.
Will shivered, aroused by the throes of a dying woman, locked into her killers skin. Something cool startled him and his concentration was lost. Fear rushed down his spine, but it was only the wind, ruffling his hair.
["The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen." ~ H.P. Lovecraft]
The End