hadriel_logs | Coeur de mon amie [closed]

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Coeur de mon amie [closed]

Who: Hannibal, Will, and later Jill
What: Murder, at long last
Where: Down by the lake
When: During the confusion around the door opening
Warnings: Lovingly rendered violence, death and cannibalism

Never one to act impulsively, Hannibal had been carefully constructing his persona in Hadriel, tailoring his mansuit stitch by stitch, so that people saw him as a doctor, as a chef, as someone to be trusted and confided in. Likewise he had been building up Will's trust and confidence in him, as well as deepening their relationship, as friends, yes, but as something else, something more intrinsic that resonated in their hearts and souls. Hannibal was satisfied with what he had accomplished, and had been looking for an opportunity to sate an appetite that had been waiting, thrumming beneath the surface of his facade. The need for violence and death, the hunger for flesh and the thirst for blood. And what better way to begin than with his beloved? Consuming Will's flesh would draw the man even deeper into Hannibal's being. And since he would be resurrected, Hannibal could literally have his friend and eat him too.

The opportunity presented itself with the controversy over which gods should be sent on the reconnaissance mission. Will had angered quite a few people with his public assertion that Hope should be one of those sent out. Others had just as publicly vowed violence against anyone who would vote that way...it made for quite a convenient motive, especially considering Will's death would throw him on the mercy of that very god. There were, of course, other potential suspects, particularly Maketh. No one would suspect Hannibal, however, Will's devoted friend, who clearly loved the man and had no quarrel with him. Hannibal would be properly sorrowful that Will had been murdered, and properly overjoyed when he returned.

Will had a tendency to seek solitude, in this case going down to the lake to fish and to care for his pets. It was the perfect place for the perfect murder. Hannibal made his way down to where his friend was, careful to not be seen by his soon-to-be victim. If things went as planned, even Will himself would not know that Hannibal was his murderer.

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Having caused quite a stir over the last few days, what with the whole City voting about which pair of Gods to send out on a reconnaissance mission, and his opinion that seemed to be, well, rather unpopular is putting it politely. Will was finding peace in the comfort and familiarity of fishing. He had already tended to his animals, the critters full of food and had plenty of petting from him.

Sitting on the bank, feet in the water, ready to wade out and cast his line. Will was re-feathering a homemade lure, it was one he was rather proud of, made it here, in the cave, in his first few days after arriving. It was therapeutic in a way, as was what he was about to do.

Standing up and dusting down the dried grass from his legs, Will slipped out of his shoes, bent forwards and rolled the hem of his trousers up, so not to wet them as he paddled out into the shallows where his rod was secured by stone and rope.

There was no way he would have heard anyone coming up from behind, not with the way the water splashed at his ankles and his animals purred and cooed in the background. No, Will was relaxed, unaware and actually starting to unwind... For a change.

Hannibal watched Will for several moments, watched his friend at peace. He knew well the importance of fishing to him, the way that it grounded Will, giving him solace even in the most tumultuous of times. What the chapel in Palermo was to Hannibal, the river was to Will. This would not be the first time Hannibal would violate that sacred space, not the first time he would disrupt the peace with murder. The lure Will was feathering reminded Hannibal of the ones he had reconstructed with bits of hair from his victims. He couldn't help but wonder if Will's lures here had bits and pieces of the woman Will...or rather, his double...had murdered.

Hannibal moved closer, silent like a tiger gliding through tall grass. His hand went into his pocket as he moved, and slowly drew a small knife, not a large weapon but suitable for his purposes.

With his eyes closed, Will tipped his head back, inhaling deeply through his nose, savoring the smell of the water on the air. It was hard to escape this place but Will had found a way. Not only was fishing something that he did to relax him, it was also something he did out of remembrance. Remembrance of the time spent with Abigail.

Will's memory drifted back to a gift he bought her once. One that she never received for two reasons... Will lost his never and thought better of it, the second being her death. Shaking his head, Will looked back down at the water and gave a tug on his rod, reeling in just a little to make the lure bounce on the surface of the water, like a bug landing to skate.

He had not yet heard Hannibal behind him, nor was he able to smell his. Had the shoe been on the other foot, Hannibal would have known Will was stalking him for a mile away.

It was funny, that Hannibal should think Will's homemade lures and what hidden horrors could be lurking in them. As it happened, yes! Yes, there were some of his lures that played host to fractions of woman his double had killed. Will had blanked it out of his mind as much as he could. He thought's he'd cleaned them all, thought he'd gathered it all but he never actually cleaned up his apartment himself. Tyki did.

Standing there, with his back to Hannibal, feeling like every care this hell hole of a City had sat upon his shoulders, washed away with each splash and small wave break in the water. He was calm and placid, even uncaring about the larger, more dangerous monsters that lurked in the waters... When he should have been more concerned with the one nearing him on land.

Closer and closer Hannibal stalked, shedding his shoes at the bank of the lake and entering the water, silent as a crane stepping without ripple as it scanned the depths for a fish. The water soaked up into his trousers, but he paid no mind. It would serve the same purpose as the blood soon to be similarly soaked into his clothing, telling the tale of how Hannibal rushed into the water upon finding his friend floating face-down and tried to revive his slain friend.

Closer and closer, watching every move of his friend, how Will lured the fish, presenting to them an appetizing promise of a live insect, taking advantage of their hunger in order to bury a hook into their mouths, drag them choking into the air, and then slaughter them and eat their bodies. How monstrous what lay beneath such a peaceful activity.

One more step, and in one smooth motion Hannibal reached around, clapped a hand over Will's mouth, pulled his head to the side away from Hannibal's face, then with the other hand drew the knife across Will's throat, opening it up, in a motion that echoed how Hannibal had slaughtered Abigail.

Will was an expert fisherman. He knew when to move his lure and how to keep perfectly in harmony with nature all around him. If the wind blew hard enough to bend and bow a plant, Will would let himself sway in the water, so not to seem out of place. Even down to the shadow he cast across the surface, Will would move and learn to fit in with his surroundings. Why, he'd even had some fish swim right up to him, surface and bob back down again as if he wasn't even there.

Shame Hannibal was just as much an expert at his activity too.

Before he could even blink, Will felt a strong hand clasp tightly over his mouth. Shock and startle took over and Will tried to reach back over his head, swinging his fishing rod backward as he flailed. The hook went soaring overhead, only just missing Hannibal's ear, to snag on a clump of spongy grass at the bank of the river.

Will dropped the rod then, grabbing at his attacker's forearm, trying to pull it downwards and free his mouth. Muffled noises of disapproval soon turned to a panic and desperation as Will realized this was something malicious!

And in the moments that followed, Will felt a mixture of emotions all too familiar. That of violence and danger, pain and death. Will felt the heat first, the wet warmth of his own blood, adrenaline kicking in and stopping the initial pain of his flesh being ripped clean through. Opening his mouth behind Hannibal's palm, caused stretching of the throat, the muscles and tendons snapping further from the movement of his jaw and Will cried out in silenced pain.

Shaking, he patted his paling fingers to his throat, the cut too long to hold with one hand, too deep to apply pressure before sinking into the other side of his neck. Will couldn't swallow and yet he couldn't breathe either. Coughing out in sputters and gurgles, blood flowing free from his throat too fast to contain. Will was aware, even in these unfortunate circumstances, that the glass could only spill what it contained, and Will was losing blood faster than his heart could pump it. His lungs flooded and stomach would soon bloat.

Will was faint and fading fast, he saw a darkness and knew that pretty soon he would be released.

The blood sprayed forth from Will's throat like rubies, glistening in mid air as it rained down onto the water below. Hannibal could see each heartbeat made visible with every pulse of gemstone, growing less and less as his lifeblood emptied out, more and more precious. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the scent of Will's blood, a scent he knew intimately, and the memories swirled in his mind, of the times when Hannibal had caused his friend to bleed. They were typically instances of vengeance for betrayal. But this was not. This was different. This Will was unformed, so far from the dark and magnificent beast that lived within him as the masterpiece lives within the stone. This was breaking Will so that he could be put together again ever stronger. And this was Hannibal sharing his dark desires, his dark self, with this man he loved in the most intimate way possible.

Hannibal wrapped the arm with the knife around Will's waist, steadying him as his heart beat its last, inhaling the sacred moment when death descends.

It was a helpless feeling. Watching as the hand that held the blade held acquaintance with his frame, it must have taken a steady hand to navigate such murderous waters? Will had no idea who had done this to him, more importantly, why? All he could think as he stared down into the slight splashing waves, was how the water looked so nice, inviting, made him wonder what the next world would be like?

Soon it all turned red, his blurred reflection on the surface, and Will felt his body grow uncontrollably numb and limp. He gave up, peacefully ashamed, ashamed of how he'd spent his time here, ashamed of the things he hadn't done as well as a few he had. This, of course, all flooded through Will's head in a split of a second, much like the last of his blood flooded out from his throat, finally discoloring the water too much to see an image in it at all.

That was when he stopped. His heart gave out, his arms fell lame and heavy, lifeless eyes staring into the water where his feet gave out from underneath him, leaving him to hang in Hannibal's arms like the weight of the world often hung off Will's shoulders.

It wasn't a very graceful end and despite all the pain it caused him, Will hadn't struggled or suffered for long. His life at best, left half behind.

As the strength left Will's body, Hannibal slowly sank down into the water, letting the lake take more and more of his friend's weight. As the last of his strength left and his body went slack in death, Hannibal sank down so that the surface of the water came up to Will's armpits. Allowing the body to mostly float, Hannibal pulled up his friend's shirt to uncover his abdomen up to the lower edge of his ribs. Hannibal plunged the knife into the flesh, angling up to pierce the diaphragm. He sawed a slit wide enough so that he could slip his hand up and into Will's ribcage, nudge the lung aside, and reach the heart of his friend. With his intimate knowledge of anatomy, he made quick work of the arteries and connective tissue, and in mere minutes pulled Will's heart from his body underwater. He didn't look at it, not yet, merely slipping it into his pocket. He pulled the shirt down, covering the wound, the shirt already soaked with blood from the mortal wound to Will's throat. Hannibal dropped the knife, tipped Will's body forward, and pushed it face-down into the water, letting his clothes and hair and mouth and wounds fill with water.

Then he grabbed Will's body under the arms and hauled him out of the water, dragging him back, letting himself struggle to try to get Will out of the water and onto the land. By the time he laid Will out on the grass Hannibal was appropriately muddied. He knelt over his friend and regarded it for a moment, considering with some regret that circumstances didn't allow him to display Will in some beautiful tableau.

Maybe later.

For now he pulled out his phone and texted Jill.

The lake. Please hurry.
Hannibal

Then he started CPR on a body that had no heart.

Edited 2017-05-16 16:48 (UTC)

When Jill gets a text with a location and the word 'hurry', she doesn't waste time sending a text back asking what's wrong. Clearly something is very wrong, so she grabs her gear, holsters her gun, and leaves her apartment in a dash toward the lake. She's a pretty fast runner, so it doesn't take too long, and though she's out of breath when she gets there, she only pauses a second to recognize the sight before her eyes.

"Oh my God, Will!"

Jill hurries to Will's other side, quickly stooping down next to him. Hannibal might be trying his hardest to bring Will back, but she can tell just from one look that he's beyond saving.

"Hannibal... there's nothing you can do." Jill fights back the stinging tears. This is no time to get emotional. She's seen hundreds of dead bodies by now, but seeing a friend, someone she cared so much about in this state is never easy.

Hannibal notes how quickly Jill arrives, notes to tone of her voice when she sees Will's body, the emotion quite clear. When she tells him there's nothing to do, Hannibal slows his hands and draws back, to rest on his heels, his hands still on Will's chest, his eyes still downcast. He shakes his head slightly. He swallows.

"He was in the water. I thought, maybe..." He doesn't finish the sentence, instead raising his eyes to Jill's, the sadness deeply etched into his face. "Jill..." He shakes his head again, looking down. "I'm sorry."

Jill shakes her head a little. "You did everything you could." But no amount of mourning will bring Will back. The gods can handle that, he hopes. Will can return the same way Jill did when she did. Right? He'd better come back.

"I have to call this in." Jill takes a brief moment to get out her communicator and notify Henry and Maketh before looking back to Hannibal.

"Did you see anything else when you found him?" Any clues about how this might have happened?

Interesting. Hannibal had not expected this level of organization of the watch, but supposes he should have, what with the number of former police and military. To Jill's question he turns his head toward where Will's fishing pole lies on the ground. "I saw that. Will was quite serious about his fishing, and wouldn't just leave his pole like that." He looks down at Will again, reaching to take his friend's wet, cold hand into his. "I can only hope that he'll come back. You did, after all. What was it like when you returned?"

Jill knows that Maketh likes to receive reports even on days when nothing happens, so she'll want to know about a death in the city right away. Especially one like this.

"No, he wouldn't." Jill knew how passionate Will was about fishing. She bought him that fishing pole, and he had been so happy to receive it. He was going to give her lessons.... Jill shook her head a bit to put those thoughts out of mind. She needed to focus on the situation at hand.

"I just woke up at Hope's temple. Like waking up any other day. Hopefully, Will won't keep us waiting too long." She forced a little smile for Hannibal as she looked down at the body again.

The first thing Jill noticed with the slit throat. She touched the cut, and it only took a moment for her to determine what she believed to be true. "He was cut with a knife. This wasn't a random monster attack. A person had a hand in this. I can't believe it..." That someone in the city could do such a thing.

Hannibal noted that forced smile, Jill's valiant attempt to make him feel better. Excellent. Sharing in the grief of the loss of their friend would deepen their relationship. Hannibal answered the smile with a small, sad one of his own. When Jill made her observation about the wound on Will's throat, Hannibal gave a slow nod. "That would be my assessment as well." He looked up, scanning the area as if searching all of Hadriel. "Who would have done this?"

Jill knew that Will and Hannibal were close. Hannibal was a concerned friend of Will's, so she felt complete sympathy for his loss. She cared a great deal about Will as well. Jill can only hope he returns soon.

"I don't know. Since you live with him, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary lately? Or someone who appeared particularly hostile with him for some reason?"

Hannibal and the body are the only things Jill really has to go on when it comes to discovering who did this.

"To be fair, I would consider few things in this place to qualify as ordinary. But...there were perhaps some concerns. He had advocated rather vociferously that Hope be sent on that mission. There were a number of people who promised violence to anyone who voted that way. I had thought that they were merely posturing. Perhaps I was wrong." He shook his head again. "Perhaps I should have known he would be in danger and watched over him."

Edited 2017-05-22 05:36 (UTC)

Sometimes tempers flared, given the nature of the place they were living, but Jill frowns at the mention of threats of violence.

"Do you remember who said those things?" It would at least be a start to figuring out who might be responsible for this act. What happened to Will should not happen to anyone here. What else was the guard for? And yes, this death was personal for Jill.

Hannibal looks down again, at Will's hand, limp in his. "I believe one was a woman named Jo. If I remember correctly, she said something about having anger issues. There was another woman, but unfortunately I did not get her name. There is, of course, the distinct possibility that someone was sufficiently upset to turn to homicide even if they managed to hold their tongues at the time." He pauses for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. "There is someone that Will feared might be a psychopath. I believe his name is Sato?"

He is sounding and acting uncertain, when he is of course entirely calculating.

Jill is familiar with Jo's anger issues, but she isn't sure the woman is the murdering type. Not that Jill knows her very well at all. The mention of Sato's name is also noted. She'll have to give these names to Henry to see what he thinks. He and Maketh are more familiar with any troublemakers that might exist in the city, though there typically aren't too many to begin with. And yes, Hannibal may be entirely right; the perpetrator could have said nothing at all to Will before killing him.

"We should move him to Hope's temple." They can't just leave the body here. Jill set her hand on Will to see if they could manage to lift him, and that's when she noticed something. Another wound. She stopped and lifted his shirt to have a look. "Dr. Lecter, look at this." Jill was no doctor, but the additional wound seemed a little like overkill.

Excellent. She was quite observant, and Hannibal's opinion of her rose. He put on a concerned expression and leaned closer to observe the second wound.

"Curious. I have seen wounds that were similar to this in a number of cases, but with differing significance. One perpetrator would stab his victims in that area first to rupture the diaphragm, making it impossible for the victim to draw a breath sufficient to scream. In another case, the murder was ritualistic, and the wound was imitating the wound of the lance in the side of Christ."

It was all perfectly true, and Hannibal delivered the information in a heavy tone, as if what he had seen weighed on him, butt not as much as the mere thought such a horrible thing could have happened to his friend.

Edited 2017-05-31 06:26 (UTC)

Jill's been in the field for a long time. She was no detective, but she knew a lot about combat and injuries. She had seen plenty of them and even suffered some, as well.

"It's very strange. I'm no detective. What we need is a good profiler." Her lips became both sad and amused at knowing that the best one of those was lying dead in front of her.

"But... if I were a killer, and I intended to do it by slitting someone's throat, that's what I'd do first. Catch the victim off guard. Once his throat is slit, he won't be screaming for help, so why stab him here to stop him from making a sound?"

Jill gestured to the body wound again and then touched her fingers to her chin in thought. "If Will was ambushed and his throat was cut, only the killer probably knows why he or she would need to stab Will here a second time. Maybe it is ritualistic." But Jill can't figure what sort of ritual that would be... and she's not about to stick her hand inside of him Hannibal. Ew.

Jill reaches into her back pocket and takes out her phone, then holds it up to start snapping some pictures. It could be the only one who will be able to solve Will's murder will be Will.

Hannibal would in fact have been quite surprised had Jill actually gone so far as to reach inside Will's chest. It is something that Hannibal himself would not automatically think of doing, were this some random crime scene. Plenty of serial killers deliver wounds to their victims that have purposes besides causing death, but very few actually remove parts, particularly from such a relatively small wound.

He watches Jill take pictures, the very picture of silent, sorrowful contemplation, then, when she's done, takes Will's shirt and gently draws it down over his exposed belly.

"I can carry Will, if you like."

Jill's not used to working on cases involving serial killers. Most of her cases have to do with bioweapons and zombies who eat people... so maybe this case isn't that different after all!

His offer gets a nod. "Yes, if you can manage." Jill will help out if Hannibal gets tired or struggles.

Hannibal nods as well. He's carried Will before, even here in Hadriel, and even with his friend as unconscious dead weight. He's certain here can do it, although a bit of struggle would make an effective visual for his narrative of the grief-stricken friend.

He moves up into a crouch, slides his arms under the body, and lifts it gently. For a moment he pauses, holding Will close, his eyes closed. Then with a resigned sigh he rises to his feet with obvious effort.

Jill reaches to lend a hand when needed. She was pretty strong, though she wouldn't be able to carry Will all by herself. She'll just make sure they all make it safely to the temple so they can let Will rest until his resurrection.

Hannibal leans into Jill's proffered hand, letting her steady him, support him.

"Will you lead us to the temple?" he asks, his voice tight with effort and sorrow. He knows the way, of course, but all the better to allow Jill to take the lead.

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