(no subject)
They had forgotten the nightmares.
It's not something they think about.
Shattered fragments of old memory, sound and image twisted together: Grutas' cold blue eyes, the hard-edged laughter of the looters, that lullaby about the mushroom.
They've begun to fade, with time and revenge, but Hannibal still dreams: this and only this, in mirror with herself.
It's not something they think about.
Shattered fragments of old memory, sound and image twisted together: Grutas' cold blue eyes, the hard-edged laughter of the looters, that lullaby about the mushroom.
They've begun to fade, with time and revenge, but Hannibal still dreams: this and only this, in mirror with herself.