Will Graham (
empathicfault) wrote2023-02-20 08:07 pm
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PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)
Piloting their new ship is a little difficult. It takes reading the (somehow enclosed) manual back-to-front and learning the control panel, now situated in what looks like a little closet on the window side of the living room. It's in the new hallway that leads to the small courtyard, which Will intends to decorate once they get this one chore done first.
Thankfully, the majority of the controls are intuition-based, going off the person who puts their hand on a small orb on the panel. The rest, as it turns out, is tweaking. And luckily (or otherwise), no tweaking is necessary for their first flight.
They're heading to Will's home world.
But Will doesn't specify where, just a year later than he left. he inadvertently brings them to where he'd left. The door opens from a wall of Hannibal's cliffside home, and looks out onto the driveway. The Dragon's wings are still there, staining the cement. They overlook the grey day and the churning seaside.
Will finds himself stuck in the doorway, unsure whether he's compelled to walk out and remember or slam the door shut and take them elsewhere.
Thankfully, the majority of the controls are intuition-based, going off the person who puts their hand on a small orb on the panel. The rest, as it turns out, is tweaking. And luckily (or otherwise), no tweaking is necessary for their first flight.
They're heading to Will's home world.
But Will doesn't specify where, just a year later than he left. he inadvertently brings them to where he'd left. The door opens from a wall of Hannibal's cliffside home, and looks out onto the driveway. The Dragon's wings are still there, staining the cement. They overlook the grey day and the churning seaside.
Will finds himself stuck in the doorway, unsure whether he's compelled to walk out and remember or slam the door shut and take them elsewhere.
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“Will? What’s wrong?”
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He looks slightly lost as he turns back to it. "They weren't able to get all the bloodstains out. Or they gave up on it early."
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“Does anyone live here now?”
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There's no "for sale" sign up, but- "I doubt it. Doesn't look particularly livable, at the moment."
Will's feet are already taking him to the brown bloodstain, most of it washed away. The euphoria of the blood flowing- out of the dragon, onto everything else- it sings in Will's mind like it was just yesterday.
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"...What happened?"
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Despite this, he pushes forward with some combination of both. "This was a property Hannibal owned. We stopped here, luring the- Francis Dolarhyde. Here. He
was fully subsumed by his Dragon persona by this point. His mind felt...shattered, long before. Hannibal and I waited for the night- the Dragon only strikes under the light of a full moon. When we were about to have our second glass of wine..."
He looks over to the windows. "The Dragon used a sniper rifle, aimed at Hannibal's kidney. It shot straight through and into the wine bottle. He came in, expecting me to go with his plan of killing Hannibal and filming his Becoming. Or maybe not, because he caught me as I pulled the knife from my pocket. Stabbed me here-" He taps the scar on his lower right cheek. "And then picked me up and threw me through that window. -I don't think he'd be able to, now," he adds as he realizes how he's changed in the time since.
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He looks towards the window, then his eyes trail… towards the cliff.
“This happened the night you died,” he whispers as he realizes.
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He's on a roll now, so he continues. "He advanced on me after I rolled...hell, about ten, fifteen feet? Hannibal somehow got outside silently and jumped up at him like a...very heavy monkey on his back. Gave me time to get up and pull the knife out of my cheek."
He continues through the dance that was the fight, actually making the motions of pulling the knife through the Dragon's guts. "Hannibal tore out his neck in the same motion. This was a man who would kill families in their beds, always two young kids and both parents. He targeted them through their vacation photos. He went after Molly and Walter because I was special." And isn't he, always?
"Not a man I could ever forgive. Not one I would consider for redemption." It's not that he hated the idea of the Barge. But considering everyone on board capable of it seemed preposterous. Trying to keep that sort of positivity on the job had worn on him. "He fell backwards and his blood splayed out like this. He finally got his fearsome wings."
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They've barely stepped beyond it and the relief has been palpable.
He looks over at Will. "You made sure he was dead before you took care of the other monster."
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He walks past the large stain, catching the occasional scent of old dried blood, the occasional fleck of his own spillage onto the concrete. It's a little surprising that so much of that washed away.
Hannibal held out a hand as I was crouching in the aftermath, here-" He gestures. "And I took it. I...was enraptured by the scene... -still am, really," he admits. "I pulled him close and told him so. We were both suffering from significant blood loss, but I realized..."
He trails off and licks his lips, then bites them. "I would join him after that. I would...not only participate in murder, I would initiate it. And the close contact would mean-" He finally looks over to Malcolm and there's another smile, one more of relief than anything else. "-I would take on even more of his traits. I'd be something new. Happy with it, but- not entirely me. Not my design." He looks over the edge of the cliff.
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“Do you… feel like you’re the real you now?” he asks. Or does being with anyone make that an impossibility? He watches Will’s face, but reaches for his hand.
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"I am. I feel like...I am defined by the company I keep, whether I want to be or not. The elements I let into my psyche."
His hand clutches slightly tighter to Malcolm's. "And I want you to understand how much you mean to me that I've chosen you. And how honored I am that you've chosen me, in return. No masks between us."
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“I don’t want you to feel like you’re being… forced to feel a certain way ever again. I want…” He looks at their linked hands, the matching beaded bracelets on their wrists, then he looks up at Will’s face. “I want everything you let in from me to make you feel safe and valued and free and… warm.”
He looks over at the house, then looks at Will again.
“Thank you for showing me the place where doors opened for you… and you chose who not to be.”
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Will turns from the cliff, back towards the building. "You do make me feel all those things, of course. All the parts of you. No wonder I've found you addictive."
He smirks slightly and winks, looking over to Malcolm. It's clear he's in a good mood now. Before the trip, he was tense as a piano wire.
"Okay, let's...head to the real destinations. Molly first, then we'll find Jack." As a treat, after the difficult conversation.
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He glances at the abandoned building as they pass, then looks at Will sidelong.
“How long do you think it’s been since… the cliff?”
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"Hmmm... I'd say six months to a year and a half? That plastic over the window won't last much longer than that. But we can grab a copy of the Herald when we're in town and check for sure."
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“Do you think Molly thinks you’re dead? Are we going to give her a heart attack?”
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He squeezes Malcolm's hand back, and pushes the door open with his free hand. "I'll take us to a town nearby first. We can do some research before we head over."
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"Do you want me to come with you or do you think it'd be better if I stay in town?" Or on the ship.
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"I'd rather go off your preference, for that. If you want to be there or not. I know this situation is...well. Insane. And you already have to deal with that enough with the occasional Hannibal intrusion on the Barge."
He starts pulling Malcolm gently towards the console room, just so they don't have to part yet.
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He glances around the controls, then looks at Will.
“And I’m sure I can amuse myself in town,” he says with a small but warm smile.
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"But sure. Still contact me anytime, okay?" The communicator only leaves his pocket when he's answering it, and Malcolm knows that.
The travel goes quickly- nearly instantaneous, even. Apparently, traveling inside a planet is no problem for this thing. The door steps out in an alley next to a small (but bustling) Main Street. Will had decided on one of the nearby mountain towns as a stop, as he'd be less likely to be recognized there.
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“This is the area where you lived?”
He always enjoys learning more about Will, even if the details are small and/or only Will-adjacent.
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He leads them across street and to a general store. The front looks new, but it's clear this building (and every other building on the street) has been around since the Gold Rush era. There's a very distinct feeling of shops that have outgrown their space doing whatever they can to for back into them.
The general store is mostly groceries, but also pharmaceuticals, camping, and fishing supplies. Will isn't heading in, however, aiming for the stacks of community newspapers, sitting in between a giant wood-carved bear and the door.
"Thirteen months later," he declares. Then, quieter- "...and under a year until the pandemic, if we're going to have one." He searches for emotion attached to that and finds very little- save an increased desire to convince Molly to leave.
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"I... wish I could say it wasn't that bad, but... it was so bad," he says with a wince. "That wasn't reassuring," he chides himself. He glances around. "A small town will definitely fare better than a big city," he adds honestly. "And it's even better if she lives outside of town." He looks at Will. "Does she still live in the house where you lived?" Because maybe he'd like to see it from a little bit afar before briefly parting ways with Will.
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