deadly_ned | 024 - Himalayan Blackberry

I didn't make it home in time for Halloween. A...twenty-year-old tradition. Broken just like that.

I don't know if that's a sign to move on or a sign I've been here too long or not a sign at all, just an odd and unfortunate coincidence.

[Private to Alpha]

Checking in.

[Private to Dean]

I'm going to go...pick up Digby and then. Come to your room.

I'm death-tolling. For the first time. I'm death-tolling.

[Spam to Hannibal]

[Though lethargic and in a significant amount of pain, the Piemaker still struggles to Hannibal Lecter's door with alarming resolve, intent on reclaiming his dog. He holds the doorframe with one hand, pale and panting, before giving a quiet knock on the door]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

deadly_ned

[Digby in turn thinks of Hannibal as a sometimes-friend; someone who the Piemaker sees on occasion who usually has treats to give, someone who's never been unkind to him. For this, he likes the man.

He stays precisely where he is, looking past Hannibal's leg at the Piemaker.

The Piemaker in turn looks near to fainting from the effort it took to even walk down the hall, grasping the wall for support. He stares back at the man - the psychopath - who not too long ago ruined a very important part of him. Even now, emotional vestiges of a not-true past clamor to accept Hannibal as a friend.

But he knows better, and doesn't attempt to push past him. That would be rude.]

No. I'm. Looking for Digby. Is he here?

From:

youwill

[Ned has always been polite: Hannibal does like that about him.

He doesn't demur, or apologize. Doesn't try to act like that other Dr. Lecter. He lived a dull life that Hannibal has no honest respect for. Instead, he turns, patting the side of his leg and calling to the dog.]

He is indeed. Digby, come. [When he does - he is such a good dog - Hannibal gives him a quick pat and scratch. Cruelty to animals would be terribly predictable.]

From:

deadly_ned

[Digby does indeed come, trotting up beside Hannibal in his quietly obedient way.

As Hannibal turns aside to call the dog, the Piemaker at last loses all strength. His leg unexpectedly gives out and he drops to his hands and knees, face white and drawn. No noise escapes him aside from the initial thump of hands hitting the ground; he simply kneels there, waiting silently for the strength to stand back up to return to him]

From:

youwill

[Not that is curious. Hannibal watches him fall from the corner of his eye, observing in periphery. He makes no immediate move to help the man up, curious to see if he truly just - dropped.

He's not unconscious, only without strength. Weakness has a certain scent to it.

He stoops, after a moment's pause, to - gently - take Ned by the arms to pull him upright again.]

From:

deadly_ned

[Behind Hannibal, Digby too sits and observes, with the learned understanding that he can't go to comfort his master for fear of instant death.

His throat is still slashed through, and speaking irritates it. So the quiet Piemaker usually does his best not to speak unless it's important. He continues to kneel, but when Hannibal's hands reach out he manages to struggle back up to his feet, fighting to reorient himself. The drop also caused his headaches to return, but he powers through them to the best of his ability.

He's deathtolling for the first time. This is day two now, but infirmaries don't sit well with the Piemaker. He leans against the doorway, taking a few seconds to recover himself. Then, without looking at Hannibal...]

Thank you. I'm. Sorry.

From:

youwill

You ought to be in the infirmary.

[He doesn't press, or touch his hand to Ned's brow. He doesn't need to. He can smell the sweat and sick, he can see how badly Ned is fairing.]

You're not well.

[Almost comedic, in a way, coming from him.]

From:

deadly_ned

[A more sarcastic person would have snapped something back. But that's never been the Piemaker's way; he takes Hannibal's word for truth, and leans the back of his head against the doorway, gathering what little strength remains to him]

Had to..get Digby.

[He doesn't expect Hannibal to understand; he, who not too long ago threatened the dog's well-being. But two people have already died to keep his best friend intact. Alpha and Ellie use Digby as their therapy animal. He's more than just a dog to the Piemaker; he's his only tie to sanity some days, a living reminder of life before the Barge, of life before even his mother died and life was good. Digby keeps Ned grounded.]

Edited Date: 2013-11-01 07:41 pm (UTC)

From:

youwill

I understand.

[That Digby is his anchor, that sacrifices were made and he would not risk them being for nothing. It's all very easy to tease out, and maybe it's admirable, but not to Hannibal.

Still, he sees better opportunity in making Digby like him.]

Let me help you to the infirmary. I'm afraid you may not make it on your own.

[He is kind, isn't he? He is gracious and compassionate.]

From:

deadly_ned

[Somewhere, in some deep part of him, the Piemaker manages to find some last vestige of strength. He uses this to pull away from the doorway, taking a step back into the hall while keeping his hand out to hold onto the wall.]

I'm not going to the infirmary. I'm going to Dean Winchester's. So is Digby. We're not infirmary people.

I'll make it.

[Exceptionally wary of touch, especially now, the Piemaker can't seem to stomach the idea of letting Hannibal touch him again. Once under the arms was enough. Hannibal's touch is at once both a disgust and a comfort]

From:

youwill

[Hannibal doesn't invade his space: he is no longer allowed, and so he remains in his doorway.]

Very well.

[At least he knows where Ned considers safe, now.]

I will call someone to come assist you, if that would put you further at ease.

From:

deadly_ned

[Grateful in some part that Hannibal has the decency (?) to at least stay some distance from him, the Piemaker pulls away from the wall, hugging Digby's leash like a lifeline. He's distantly made aware that he shouldn't have even bothered mentioning Dean, shouldn't have hinted at the other man's importance to him, but fatigue and pain are both clouding his mind and vision.

He retreats back, staring hollowly at the man in the doorway]

It wouldn't.

May I ask a. Personal question?

From:

youwill

[He considers for a moment, hands clasped in front of him. But finally he inclines his head.]

You may ask. [He never promises answers, certainly not straight ones.]

From:

deadly_ned

[And it says something about the Piemaker that if Hannibal had said no, he would not have asked. Instead, with full permission, he ventures..]

When you killed people.

Was it mostly about the killing or was it mostly about the food?

Or. Is it something too complicated to put to words?

From:

youwill

[It's an interesting question, one he's not been asked. But then, no one has had the opportunity to ask him that, in his life.]

It is complicated. [Not too complicated to put into words, but too complicated, he thinks, for Ned.]

Neither wholly one nor wholly the other. Why do you wish to know?

From:

deadly_ned

I asked because..

If it was wholly about the killing, I couldn't forgive you. And I realize that you probably don't. Care what I think, or want forgiveness or...anything like that.

But if it was about the food - and this is coming strictly from someone who makes comfort food for a living - there's a small, guilty part of me apart from all the other parts that thinks..some food is delicious enough to kill for.

It's a horrible thought.

But I did once taste a white truffle that people did kill for so it's not a wholly unjustified thought.

From:

youwill

Not unjustified at all. [He smiles, not too widely or too easily. Not too pleased. A small smile that is only just slightly satisfied.

He had a feeling that Ned would understand, at least in part. Validation is always tantalizing.]

Some pleasures, after all, are worth great risk.