(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's new room is up a floor from his old one and at the east end of the corridor. Inside they arefrankly ridiculous. Romanesque with vaulted ceilings with edges with frescos of animals, rich tiled floors that are warm underfoot.

The cross shaped layout and columns create discreet niches - one with a large bed; another lined with books and a map of the world as known in his time painted on the wall, a third holding several large couches circling his harpsichord.

The east side opens onto a glassed-in portico with a stunning view of the snow speckled garden.

A door off the bed chamber leads to a more modern but still Romanesque bathroom with a bath easily large enough for three.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal bends his head to kiss Sinric's throat, softly and gently.

[thewidewideworld]

AS gentle as Hannibal was, there are shadows of bruises forming at Sinric's throat. Not deep but just enough to show on his delicate skin.

But Sinric bares his throat to the kiss, purring softly. He adjusts his perch on the edge of the bath to press a little tighter to Hannibal's front.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal pulls him against himself, sighing as he kisses Sinric's shoulder once more.

[thewidewideworld]

"In your dream of the other me, what were they like? The jewels he wore his breasts and manhood?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Intricate and lovely," Hannibal says. "Would you like me to draw them?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Would you?" He asks softly, arching back to rub his face against Hannibal's neck. "Later."

He leans over the turn off the water, turning in Hannibal's arms to push off the robe and invite Hannibal into the water with him.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal follows, with a pleased sigh, sfretxhi g out in the bath.

[thewidewideworld]

There was room enough for them both to stretch out, but just as much comfort to lounge together.

Sinric waits for Hannibal to settle before pressing against him once more. "Would you tell me about the city we saw through him? Florance, was it?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes, it was," Hannibal says. "An old city in Italy where the renaissance began, the rediscovery of Roman and Greek culture after the predominantly Christian Middle Ages."

[thewidewideworld]

"The age I'm in now." Sinric snuggles against him, letting the warm water soak away his aches. "What was it like for you?"

[cook_the_rude]

"For me, it was old," Hannibal says. "Steeped in culture and traditions, with the finest old-fashioned and hand-made food, drink and other goods to enjoy."

[thewidewideworld]

"It sounds like a perfect place for you - full of art and culture and finery. We're you happy there?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Not as happy as I could have been," Hannibal admits. "I ultimately went with the wrong companion."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric strokes his shoulder gently with a cloth, washing him softly.
"You would rather have been there with Will." It isn't quite a question. "Rather than Bedelia."

[cook_the_rude]

"Will, and Abigail," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sets down the cloth to wrap his arms around Hannibal's shoulder, stroking the back of his neck lightly. "Your family." He looks into Hannibal's eyes with nothing but compassion.

[cook_the_rude]

"They would have been," Hannibal sighs.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric looks him in the eye and kisses him softly on the corner of his lips. "I'm sorry."

[cook_the_rude]

"I sometimes wondered where I went wrong, turning our hope into despair and destruction," Hannibal says, sadly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric stokes Hannibal's cheek, holding his eye. Not that long again he would have offered to look, to tell Hannibal how things might have turned out different. But with his own experiences this evening and his time with Emcee has made him a little more wary.

"That which is broken can sometimes be mended, but they are never truly whole. Not as they were. All we can do is go from where we stand."

[cook_the_rude]

"Kintsukuroi," Hannibal says quietly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric cocks his head questioningly. The word didn't come into use some 700 years after his own time.

[cook_the_rude]

"Repaired with gold," Hannibal says. "A broken vessel of great value, made even more precious by not glueing it together not setting the pieces in precious metals."

[thewidewideworld]

"Is that how Abigail is for you? A memory bound in precious settings?"

[cook_the_rude]

"And suffused with regrets," Hannibal says, softly.