Will Graham (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
empathicfault) wrote2023-02-20 08:07 pm
empathicfault) wrote2023-02-20 08:07 pm
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.
no subject
"Hello. You must be dear Will's newest attempt to save his soul. How do you think that is going?" It's a voice Malcolm's heard before, albeit from another iteration. It's Hannibal Lecter.
Will can hear it, too. While his back stiffens and he might not be breathing, he doesn't turn back to the phone. He's setting everything to travel, and they clearly need to get to Washington now.
no subject
“Going? Oh. It’s all done. He’s an absolute angel now. Works at a food bank. Sings in a church choir. Helps old ladies across the street. What’re you up to these days?” he asks like they’re old friends. “I imagine you lost your licence to practice psychiatry and any other type of medicine because of all the murders and the padded room. That’s a drag. Are you managing to keep busy?”