empathicfault | IC Inbox

Will's smile is a little strained, but he's still smiling. "I will be more okay when you're healed up. But yes, we're okay. As long as you think we are." He sort of adds that into the sentiment, because Malcolm needs to know it's not just a decision on Will's end.

"And if...if there's anything you want to know about him, or what he said, or- any of it...you only have to ask. I don't want you to feel like there's any place in my memory palace you're not allowed to go."

Malcolm's whole face softens and he leans over - despite the effort required - to give him a gentle, tender kiss.

"I was mostly worried about... him doing the thing my dad does. Subtle little... seeds planted to drive a wedge in." He pauses. "I want to ask you what he wrote to you, but it feels like asking to see your text messages. I trust you. I don't want to sound like I don't. I'm just curious."

Will takes the kiss happily and smiles at the ground when Malcolm notes it'd be like reading his text messages. It's more personal than that, but Will's committed to being honest with Malcolm. It's always been to Will's advantage when Malcolm does know more. They help each other figure these things out.

"You can read them. I wouldn't be surprised if he left things to find for weeks to come, at this rate." He lets out a small sigh, partially because there's a part of him that's thrilled for the easter egg hunt he's apparently been put on. "He found the sketch I had from Christmas and left a bunch of those, too. I've been...collecting it all behind the canvases near the easels." He's a little reluctant to leave the couch, but he knows how Malcolm's curiosity works. So he asks, "Want me to grab them now?"

"Would that be okay?" Malcolm asks, watching his face. He pauses. "You'll sit here again when you bring them?" he adds, out of apparently the same anxiety Will is feeling.

"I will, although I'll have to-" He hears the whistle starting up. "-get the tea, too," he finishes with a bit of a laugh. He's made his decision, he seems sanguine about it. He leans over to give Malcolm a peck of a kiss on the side of his head. "But I'll be back as soon as I can."

He gets up to get the kettle, and moves efficiently. Turning the burning off, setting the hot water to steep, and setting a timer. Within a couple minutes (probably punctuated by both of them checking in with each other), he's returning with a significant stack of papers, considering Hannibal was only here for half a week. The drawings are under the letters, which rest on Will's lap as he sits. A couple of large rocks jutting out of the sea is depicted in the top-most drawing.

"Here's everything I'd found so far," Will says. He licks his lips, biting them a bit. "I'm sure there's more. I'll keep an eye out. Feel free to start wherever you want."

Edited (clarity) 2024-06-29 21:37 (UTC)

Malcolm settles against him and nuzzles Will’s cheek with his nose before turning his gaze to the papers. He takes the stack, flipping through the letters briefly before deciding to start with the drawings. He assumes the first is the cliff Will threw them over.

Good times, clearly.

He presses his own lips together briefly, then flips through the next couple. He holds one up. “…This one is you.”

"Yep, it sure is," Will replies with a small sigh. It's a classical full-body portrait of him from behind...in the nude. The pose recalls renaissance-era statuary, every line glorifying the musculature. The slightly turned face and messy curls makes it clear that it couldn't be anything else, but the scar on the right side of his face sets a time.

Will has difficulty knowing what to even say about it, so he just stares and finally lets out a disbelieving laugh. "I hate that he apparently could draw that from memory. Feels like finding out that my bully in grade school not only likes me, he's been writing my name in his notebook and drawing little hearts around it."

Even with everything Malcolm knows about Hannibal, he still thinks of him as Will’s ex. Will’s abusive ex. Their relationship, as far as he understands it, was emotionally intimate, not physically in the way that his is with Will. But it still doesn’t feel weird that Hannibal would imagine Will like this. …Not the nudity, anyway.

“He’s put you on more of a pedestal than I realized. Like. I understood that he’s obsessed with you, but… you look like the statue of David. That’s… a whole marble plinth he’s got you up on.” A beat. “You are this perfectly proportioned, though. Good eye on his part.” And he shuffles that one to the back. He stares at the next one for a moment. It’s a woman’s face, but her hair turns into… Will’s face. He frowns faintly. “What am I looking at?”

Will scoffs at the last bit of commentary, and it's partially being unaware and partially embarrassment at the compliment. "Maybe after the whole werewolf thing..." he mutters, but there's a smile on his face.

Once the next drawing is viewable, though, his face falls. It's a nice portrait of them both, if a bit surreal itself. In the picture, they're turned away from each other. His own face portrayed a myriad of emotions- anger, sorrow, wistfulness, resolve. Alana's was serene, her eyes closed. If Will's mind didn't work a mile a minute, he might have had some time to enjoy it.

"That's Alana Bloom," he replies, taking in a breath and blowing it out. "Before we fought the Red Dragon, he told me...about his promise to her. That she could be blind and forget what she saw, when she caught him attacking Jack. But if she didn't, he would come for her someday. Maybe..." Maybe he'd done it. Or was planning it, at the very least. "I can't imagine even any version of me that...continued would let him do it."

"He sees you as intertwined in some way," Malcolm remarks. "Isn't he the one that dated her?" Will had wanted to, if he recalls correctly. Then Hannibal framed him and she believed it.

"He is," Will replies, feeling his mouth go dry.

"And I- I was so angry when I got here. At her, especially. Because she was so smart but couldn't figure out she was dating a murderer. Because she tried to save me and failed. Hannibal would absolutely use that to try and cement my...new life."

Malcolm tilts his head slightly to look at Will.

“Your ‘new life’ with him?” he clarifies with a more cautious curiosity.

"...yes." Will lets out a sigh as he thinks about it further. "But there was also...he said to me- well, to Francis, but he knew it'd make it back to me- that 'blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance.' Well...my 'radiance' was too newly formed. He'd want to protect his new baby monster, until I figured out what I actually wanted."

He opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything for a long moment, before seemingly acknowledging something to himself and continuing. "And if it served his own interest, all the better, right? I doubt he'd understand why I'd be hesitant to kill Alana, if I was so angry with her."

He hopes he'd be hesitant. He hopes he'd keep Hannibal from going through with it. Maybe she's not one of the best people in that world, but she was still trying. She does not deserve to be livestock.

“He made the same mistake with you and him that people make with me and you,” Malcolm notes. “He thinks because you connected so strongly that you’re the same.” He puts the drawing to the back. “You’re not the same.”

He studies the next picture. “I feel like I should have… some reservations about how well he could draw you from memory. Like. Every little detail, down to where you carry your tension.”

"Parts of us are the same," Will gently corrects. "But not that. I wouldn't want to 'get back' at Alana, not when she was doing her best with the information she had. Even if the circumstances...make me angry."

The next drawing is less his usual style. However, it still features Will, leaning over a desk with dark creatures in the dark behind him, growing increasingly grotesque as one looks up and back. Notably, the wendigo and ravenstag are both there, antlers merging near the top of the drawing. Both are looking accusingly at the viewer, eyes a stark white. Winston looks at Will with concern from the bottom right. And yes, even asleep, Will looks tormented, shoulders drawn together, hair scraggly curls. He's wearing what he usually wears to sleep, an undershirt and boxer briefs.

"Yeah, I'm wondering if I'm ever wearing a full outfit in any of these..." Will murmurs. "But I always suspected he had an eidetic memory. And he's probably pushing that angle anyway because he's jealous. He wants both of us to know how intimately he knows me. He expected I'd treat you like Molly, and...leave out some things."

“Parts of you are the same and it tricked him into thinking everything was,” Malcolm says. He’s sure of this. He smirks at Will’s assessment of Hannibal’s jealousy. “It would be petty to enjoy that, right?”

Will smirks and snorts in amusement. "It is, which means you should indulge that feeling. Try it on, like a suit. I think that one would fit you well, personally."

But he seems more than happy with Malcolm's assessment. He suspects the full reason might not be quite that simple, but that's probably a big part of why Hannibal 'miscalculated' here.

"He doesn't usually draw things like this." He notes, finding himself continuing to stare at it. "He prefers classical beauty, and usually saves the beautifully macabre for his 'other' art."

“I… don’t think he killed anyone here. He needed the outlet, maybe.” Malcolm tilts his head to look up at Will again. “Is it weird that I don’t think he even intended to kill me?” he asks.

IC Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject