hadriel | video;

[ He'd not meant to hit the video function at first. He was simply fumbling around with his phone, half in a daze, half in a panic.

Spluttering, dropping his phone in his lap, hands shaking as they find their way to touch where the gaping wound to his throat should have been. Upon finding no such wound, and no scar or evidence there had even been a wound at all, Will picked his device back up again, holding it up to look at his own reflection in the screen. Raising his chin and tipping his head aside, searching his reflection. ]

I was... Where am I?

[ He'd never actually been inside of any of the Gods temples, let alone Hope's. So needless to say Will was having some difficulty in recognizing where he was. Flopping back onto the cool floor, his hands covering his face for a moment before he sprawled out. Will turned his head aside and noticed his fishing rod was laying down beside him. He'd had that with him when... When... ]

I ... I died? .... No, no... I was... Killed?

[ Looking into the screen, his eyes dashing and darting from side to side, deep in thoughts that were overflowing too thick and fast for him to contain. His brow furrowed and Will looked unsure as he spoke. ]

Is this a dream? I can't remember... I've lost all recollection of time and days... Am I still dreaming?

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Will closed his eyes then, hearing Hannibal talk of life and the complicated dance we made of it. It rang true in Will's ears and for the first time in a long time, he was happy that Hannibal, of all people, was the one person from home he had with him. The understanding between them was strong, and Will knew Hannibal was a puzzle he'd only just found the corners to, laid them out ready to build the frame, so that fitting the middle parts in their rightful places would come much easier a task.

Nodding now, at the thought of their comfortable little apartment, at the mention of food. "I think I'd like that." Will smiled, as he came to look upon his friends face. "You are a quiet bed in all my noise to rest, Hannibal. Hope brought me here now, now take me home?" The tiredness in his eyes was evident and unmistaken, Will mind spilling out from his ears as the longer they stayed in this temple, the more he'd think about nothing but his death.

What Will was expressing meant that Hannibal had him just where he wanted him, well in hand and pliable, ready to be manipulated, shaped and controlled. In years past that would have been all that Hannibal felt in this situation, the satisfaction of a game well played. Yet now this man meant more to him than that, more than any other human being ever had, with the sole exception of Mischa. Will's consideration was important, even vital, to Hannibal. And was that not love? The desire to know and to be known and to become so close, so necessary, to each other, that they were one and the same?

Hannibal smiled at his friend and leaned in to kiss him chastely on the cheek, before releasing his friend and offering a hand.

"Come."

The small kiss felt virtuous and pure, a soft sentiment of echoes and whispers, the clarity of friendship and having been granted it once more. Will knew his death would have troubled a very small handful of people here, but to learn that it had bothered Hannibal so much? It felt as though some kind of bond was twisting, knotting and embedding itself in the red string of fate that loosely dangled between them. Strangthening it, giving it reason and meaning.

Will's face twisted then, a little of his awkwardness and nerves showing at the surface perhaps. A quick smile before he scratched at his cheek where the kiss had been placed. It was hard to digest, the idea that he'd been missed, that his life had meant so much to someone like Hannibal. Tucking his reaction away, in the old dusty boxes of things he needed to sort through in the vault of his memory. Will nodded, taking the offered hand and willingly following his dear friend home.

The years that separated them were never more apparent as in this moment. For years, Hannibal had been becoming more and more closely entangled with Will, until it was clear to both of them that their fates were forever intertwined, that they could not live without one another. But this Will wasn't there yet. And yet he took Hannibal's hand. He was beginning to understand.

Hannibal took him home, and ensured that he was comfortable on the couch before he went to the kitchen. He put a pan on the stove and turned on the heat, then went to the fridge and retrieved the smoked heart. He sliced it very thin and put it in the pan to saute, then chose some vegetables to chop.

"Are you sure I can't help?" Will's voice muttered, his jaw moving aside as it tends to do, chewing his words as he spoke them. He'd already risen from the couch, was fingering through their meager possessions in the apartment, small objects of various levels of importance.

The smell from the kitchen was rich, the sauteed heart had a very distinct smell. Will held onto the frame of the door, peering into the kitchen, a puzzled frown on his brow. "If er.. That's deer you're cooking us, I er, I requested it specifically from Hope for Winston..." The slightly cooked meat smelt vaguely similar to what Will had been cooking and drying for his Dog. A meat that meant a sacrifice on Will's behalf. It was hard to be hopeful, even more so to elicit such an emotion in others.

Coming to lean against the other side of the counter, Will watched. Leaning over and watching the skill in which Hannibal prepared the food. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"This is not deer. I promise you, Winston's stores are safe. This is the heart of a monster, smoked with wood from Sorrow's grove." Indeed, much of their meat in Hadriel had been from the creatures who sometimes threatened the populace, so it was perfectly innocent, except in the way that it really was not.

"As a young man, I had to learn many things that came with caring for oneself," he remarked lightly. "Cooking was something that I found particularly fascinating, the transformation of simple things into something divine."

"A fallen monster, slain for its heart... And plants of Sorrow thrown at its grave... Smoked, like a Viking funeral. Fittin." He shrugged, mouth pressing into a line that pointed down at the sides. Will was rambling, letting his mouth be an escape for his thoughts as usual. As strange as they may be.

The news that Winston would still have his deer, pleased Will. It was nice to know that, even in his absence, his best friend was being cared for and not overlooked simply because he was a dog.

Will listened as Hannibal explained himself. How interesting indeed. The way he spoke of the transformation of simplicity into divinity, almost mirrored what Will thought about the Chesapeake Rippers displays. Shaking the rather untasty thought from his mind, for now, Will focused on the food what was being prepared. "I never really learned how to cook. Not properly, not like that." Gesturing with a hand to the pan that sizzled his heart away slowly.

Fitting, that once again Will had the perceptions that would lead him to the truth, and yet not the willingness to put the pieces together. Hannibal was not disappointed, as all of this was merely laying the foundation, so that when a seed took hold, his friend's mind was fertile, and what grew would be strong and verdant.

Hannibal looked up from chopping to smile at his friend. "I would be happy to teach you." He finished chopping, then carried the vegetables over to the stove, and threw them in the pan. He grasped the handle and tossed the pan contents into the air a few times, mixing them well.

In a cave full of strangers and monsters, something like cooking could be a wonderful way for Will to escape. There was the possibility that the river would be a place he'd not be so keen to venture back to in a hurry. The memories of his death were playing over and over, in the back of his mind- No, a new hobby would be a good start, a good way to heal.

"If it's no bother, of course." Happy to take lessons, Will took it upon himself to edge closer. Pulling himself up to sit on the countertop across from where Hannibal was busy at the stove.

"I hope I never master the art of dying... Now that I know for certain, people can and do come back... I don't want to have to go through that again." Rubbing his head, then touching his chest, Will looked a little unsure, maybe just paranoia? After all, he'd heard tales of people coming back changed and tampered with in some way...

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