🍴 ( 008 ) Video

[youwill]

Excuse me.

[The man on screen is dapper as fuck, a faint crease in his brow marking his confusion. The suit he wears is a touch dated, plainer than most of the plaid numbers he usually prefers: this is a plain, grey, though considerably well tailored number that looks like it would be better suited to the last century.

Or to a particular breach in Oxford. If you look closely, there is a black nose peeking out over his shoulder, from under the collar of his jacket. It's fitted very particularly, so that Boudica can hide there unnoticed. It helps that the mink is not overly large.]

Ask now, [she whispers into his ear. Hannibal glances toward his shoulder, then back to the camera.]

This will sound very strange, I am certain. Please bear with me; I only wish to understand the state of things.

[Unseen, Boudica digs her claws into his back in her impatience; Hannibal makes no outward reaction.]

Where are your daemons?

Comments

[versusnurture]

[Oh. There he is. Abigail remembers; in Oxford she was both stronger and much, much weaker, obeying his orders and wrapping herself in a coat of ice in order to stand straighter in the face of fear.]

[She stands straight all on her own now, smiling politely at the camera.]

Mine is left where you left Boudica ages ago, Hannibal. You're a little . . . temporally maladjusted, I think.

[youwill]

[There she is - there Parris is not. Boudica crawls from his collar, along his arm to better inspect her image. She is missing a part of her, and the mink does not like it. Parris was hers to protect, guide, bully. Now he's gone.]

Temporally. And you, Abigail? From what adjustment do you view me from?

[versusnurture]

[Her smile at Boudica is something a little less than polite. But only a little.]

From a future that you can't conceive of.

[youwill]

[Boudica bares her teeth, just for a moment, pointed and angled in a silent snarl. Bring him back, it says, how dare you, it says.]

I can conceive of a great many futures.