[The shiv grazes his temple, nicks his eye, but this time he doesn't even flinch. It still hurts, little bright fireworks that are no quieter for the way they crackle and fade, but he blinks, twice, restores himself. He doesn't push Hannibal away now. Hannibal's hand squeezes and he squeezes back, hand around Hannibal's wrist. The bones grind and don't crumble - he could, easily, the possibly looms and tempts. But that's a very temporary solution. He doesn't want more of that. He is done.
He's never done this on purpose before. But the power is there, the power is always there, whether he calls it or not, inexorable as gravity, and he channels it now, the force of a supernova pressed against Hannibal's three-pound brain, his wriggling pink human soul. No finesse, this, just blasting away everything that is not smooth, calm, helpful operation, a satellite drawn into Dillon's orbit with its poisonous skies ripped off by a pulse of solar wind. No animal appetites, no human schemes. Emotions, but pure ones, beneficent ones, without qualms or reservations, without complications, scoured clean.
Hannibal's bones and tendons are healed, unconscious spillover from the sheer energy Dillon slammed him with. He drops his hand.]
no subject
He's never done this on purpose before. But the power is there, the power is always there, whether he calls it or not, inexorable as gravity, and he channels it now, the force of a supernova pressed against Hannibal's three-pound brain, his wriggling pink human soul. No finesse, this, just blasting away everything that is not smooth, calm, helpful operation, a satellite drawn into Dillon's orbit with its poisonous skies ripped off by a pulse of solar wind. No animal appetites, no human schemes. Emotions, but pure ones, beneficent ones, without qualms or reservations, without complications, scoured clean.
Hannibal's bones and tendons are healed, unconscious spillover from the sheer energy Dillon slammed him with. He drops his hand.]