(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]

Sinric spreads his small hand over Hannibal's throat, fingers finding the exact spot they resting in before.

There's a flash of light from Sinric's eyes. Not Sinric's antique gold, but sunlight flare. "You have fanned the flame of this becomes from the beginning. Out of a desire to watch it burn." It's not entirely Sinric's voice. "Beware the power of that fire."

[cook_the_rude]

"I know," Hannibal answers. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[thewidewideworld]

It's not Sinric who shift suddenly, pushing Hannibal back and pinning him to the floor, that hand around his throat squeezing. "You set fire to another for the pleasure of watching the flames. This one will not burn for your entertainment."

[cook_the_rude]

"No, but for his own becoming," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"Be warned, twister of threads. Be warned."

Sinric faints, falling into Hannibal's arm like a limp doll.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal catches him as he drops, holding him safe and warm against his clothes and skin until he wakes up from the possession by the god.

[thewidewideworld]

When he does, a few minutes later, it's with a smile and a playful groan, hiding his face in Hannibal's tunic. "We fell asleep on the chapel floor. Oh gods, I'm surprised no-one found us."

He sounds refreshed and happy. And blissfully ignorant.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal kisses him again. "This was a unique experience, Sinric."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles and kisses him swiftly before standing up to straighten his clothes. "There are times I fear you'll get tired of strangeness of our trysts, and long for the normality of simple pleasures."

[cook_the_rude]

"I am Hannibal Lecter," Hannibal says, as answer and explanation.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs and helps him up, kissing him deeply. "Horned god, feathered stag, dragon slayer."

He never says the words twister of threads but they hang in the air, unspoken but not unheard.

"We should get going. We'll be late for the feast."

[cook_the_rude]

"We can't miss that," Hannibal declares, straightening his own clothes.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric steps lightly, leading Hannibal back towards the body of the monastery and the grand hall. They're only a little late, judging by the fact most of the hall is already seated.

Alcuin has a seat at a table near to the head of the room, space set aside for them. "Oriens, Doctor Lecter." He nods to them, welcoming them to sit. "Alas, Father Tétartos has not yet joined us. Perhaps you should fetch him? I'm sure I can entertain il dottore here till you return."

Sinric gives his old master a little bow, his eyes smiling as he gives Hannibal's shoulder a little squeeze.

Watching Sinric skip away, Alcuin pours Hannibal a cup of wine. "You've made him happy. Thank you for that."

[cook_the_rude]

"I am glad I could give something back for the welcome this place has given me," Hannibal says, sitting down beside the advisor of Charlemagne. "I am honestly the happiest when I can contribute and make a difference to people, however small."

[thewidewideworld]

Alcuin quirks a grin and takes a sip of the wine. A slightly rough red from the monstary's own vines. "You're in the right place for sainthood." There's a lot of mischief in his eyes.

[cook_the_rude]

"The last I looked," Hannibal says, "wealth and politics weren't the breeding ground for actual sainthoods, as opposed to sanctimony."

He makes a show of not looking at the abbot at all.

[thewidewideworld]

Alcuin laughs brightly. "Not every man's path is quite as pure. After all, as you yourself demonstrated - satisfaction is not always the same as holiness."

[cook_the_rude]

"And honestly, I'm not here for the holiness," he says. "I am here for the place itself -- the history, the books, all the knowledge."

[thewidewideworld]

"And a certain lovely young man?" Alcuin asks, with a mildly protective tone. If a little teasing.

[cook_the_rude]

"He is always a good reason for anything," Hannibal states. "History, however, closely follows in his footsteps."

[thewidewideworld]

Alcuin giving him a long look. "I've known that young man since he was a boy. I don't like to see him hurt."

[cook_the_rude]

"So have I," Hannibal says, "off and on for years. And you don't have to worry -- I'm very protective of him as well."

[thewidewideworld]

"And I thought you a passing acquaintance." Alcuin seems pleasantly surprised. "Ah, and here he comes. And Father Tétartos. He looks much improved for your care."

Niketas walks steadily, a hand on Sinric's arm. "Good evening all." The former prince smile, "I hope the sermon part of the evening goes quickly. I'm starving."

Sinric helps him sit on the bench at Alcuin's side before joining Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

"I am glad to see you're feeling better," Hannibal says to Niketas, but his smile is for Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

A smile that Sinric returns, warm and bright. There's still an edge of gold to his eyes, but only for one why knows to look for it.

"A debt I owe to you, Dr Lecter. And the lovely- Oriens." He stumbles a moment, remembering which name Sinric is using here.

He reaches out to take Sinric and Alcuin's hands. "I am very grateful that fortune has brought us back together. And you with them, Doctor."