(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[from here}

Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

"Given how ready the abbot was to see them destroyed, I'm tempted to steal them away to Milliways and finish the translations myself. Or ask Alcuin to take them back with him to Charles' library. At least Charles has respect for the old empires, and through that, the old gods."

[cook_the_rude]

"Photograph them, and suggest to Alcuin to take them," Hannibal ponders. "Maybe suggest to the abbot that Charles might grant the order some land as those scrolls will interest him, and then suggest to Alcuin that a grant of tenuous land near the border of still-heathen Saxony will be beneficial to all concerned. I can already tell you that will work, because that's exactly what Charles did around the Saxon lands, and the specific outcome of this plan now is probably going to be the Imperial Abbey of Corvey."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs aloud; a bright, cheerful sound that echoes around the empty chapel. A passing monk shushes them, scowling. That sort of joviality has no place in God's house. But it doesn't stop Sinric, only forces him to bury his face in Hannibal's tunic to stifle himself. "You are a wonderful, clever man and if it wouldn't get us both in trouble, I'd kiss you right now."

[cook_the_rude]

"Let's find a hidden place where you can at least do that," Hannibal says. "We need to celebrate our combined cleverness."

Because it's not just him. It's never just him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and takes his hand, skipping on light feet across the cold stones. Being who he is, Sinric has explored the chapel and most of the abbey enclave, often under the cloak of the unseen, one of the earliest magics he mastered.

There little nook, formed by a buttress and the line of a wooden staircase added later that proves close cover for two. Sinric shimmies in, pulling Hannibal with him. "You know well how much I need this." It's not really a question. He know Hannibal, as Hannibal knows him.

[cook_the_rude]

First things first: Hannibal pulls him close and kisses him deeply. "You love Niketas," he states, "but he cannot see your power, your fire, the golden antlers reaching far into the future from everything you touch."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans into the kiss, drinking it in greedily. "He sees a song bird whose wings have grown. But not the strength behind them." He kisses Hannibal again, hands slipping under the heavy wool tunic to cup Hannibal's rear. "The vision I shared with you will haunt his dreams, half in desire, half in guilt."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tilts into the touch like a petted panther.

"He has no reason to feel guilt over his desire," he says. "His vows were forced from him, and there is no intrinsic reason for him not to discard them lightly. Neither chastity nor poverty or obedience suit im in the least."

[thewidewideworld]

"He lacks my healthy disregard for the teachings of the church. And suffers a prince's burden of duty. Something I will have time to help him cast off during our journey."

He says it with the confidence of seeing rather than the smugness of someone planning to tempt and seduce a priest.

[cook_the_rude]

"Open his inner eye, not only the outward one," Hannibal agrees, kissing him again.

[thewidewideworld]

"Just so." Sinric leans into the kiss again, hands firmly anchored on the hard muscles of Hannibal's rear. There's something reassuringly powerful about the firmness of Hannibal's body.

[cook_the_rude]

"Any holy nook you'd particularly like re-paganised?" Hannibal whispers against Sinric's lips.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs softly, lapping at the corner of Hannibal's lips. He flashes the image of himself sprawled out on the altar, this time with Hannibal on his knees between his spread thighs.

"But that would deconsecrate the church. And that would be rude." Sinric chuckles.

[cook_the_rude]

"I'm sure there's a chapel of some deservingly chaste saint?" Hannibal suggest.

Yes, deconsecrating the main church would be rather rude, if quite amusing.

[thewidewideworld]

"I do believe there's a little chapel dedicated to Saint Equitius on the east wing."

But before they could consider moving, a voice can be heard calling out the name Oriens.

Sinric's face falls. "Alcuin."

[cook_the_rude]

"Well, let us meet him, then," Hannibal says, closing his eyes resignedly for a moment. "His is another great name to survive the ages."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric looks equally frustrated as he nods and straightens his tunic.

He nods and carefully shifts out from behind the stairs. "Master Alcuin." He plasters a smile into his face and steps towards Alcuin, turning him carefully to protect Hannibal from view.

"Oriens, my boy. Whatever have you been up to? You've been missed. As has the noble Tétartos."

Sinric glances over Alcuin's shoulder to Hannibal. "Tétartos was taken poorly. Doctor Lecter has been looking to him."

[cook_the_rude]

"I hope he rests more easily now," Hannibal says. "His eyes will need more care, regular bathing with medicine-soaked little sponges."

[thewidewideworld]

Alcuin raises an eyebrow and bows to Hannibal. "Thank you for looking to him, il dottore. I don't believe we've met but I do recall seeing you at Mass last night."

[cook_the_rude]

"I came to the Abbey for the service, and it was good that I did so," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"Very good indeed. It would seem our Oriens has taken good care of you in turn." The elderly academic's eyes glitter almost mischievously.

[cook_the_rude]

"He has shown me all the most interesting corners," Hannibal says. "The history of this place is truly amazing."

[thewidewideworld]

"I have no doubt he has." Alcuin smiles, patting Sinric's shoulder. "Carry on, dear boy. Good to meet you, Dr Lecter. Has Oriens shown you the medical library?"

[cook_the_rude]

"We are going to go there just now," Hannibal says, visibly and genuinely perking up.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives Alcuin a bow and tugs gently at Hannibal's hand, heading towards the library. Blushing warmly. Once they're out of earshot he laughs. "I'm glad Alcuin knows me so well."