Abigail Hobbs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
versusnurture) wrote2014-01-02 07:38 pm
versusnurture) wrote2014-01-02 07:38 pm
Entry tags:
- & i want & i want & i want,
- & sometimes she doesn't lose time,
- ] or did you hunt,
- a hundred motherfuckers,
- always the possibility of murder later,
- ben & the blue lady,
- ben is hers now,
- can't tell me nothing,
- full-on straightjacket-&-chains loses,
- hannibal bannanibal is watching,
- here are my scars,
- i have been very wicked,
- i have seen sights & been scared,
- i hope i shall be better,
- i will speak the truth,
- oh god alana,
- shoot him every minute of his life,
- thank you dillon,
- the brave face
eleven ♢ spam, private + open
spam } open
[The mask is secured in her room before she goes anywhere. She goes back to check on it frequently, bordering on obsessively, straightening it in its place of pride hung above her desk. She wonders what it's like to live life, day in, day out, in a few square feet, never allowed to breathe free air but through that grille. It's so much easier to imagine through Hannibal's eyes than Will's. She never imagined it would be.]
[She knew there was another man here who went by his name, but he never seemed real. Now - even though this artifact was never his - now it feels like a real, possible future.]
[What she doesn't do is lose time. She walks with even breath and utter confidence, anywhere and everywhere, feeling the simple joy of movement. She is afraid of nothing. She looks people in the eye, even if only for fleeting moments as she passes, and she doesn't even consider pulling a scarf on over the scar on her neck.]
spam } alana
[There's no way Alana doesn't have questions. Abigail doesn't feel obliged to protect many people, but Alana - she's been lied to all this time. Longer than Abigail was lied to. Hannibal was a colleague. And now . . .]
[There are probably worse ways to find out, but Abigail can't think of any. Besides death at his hands, anyway.]
[After a silent struggle with her conscience, she grabs the keys to Alana's room and hurries there, letting herself in before she can change her mind.]
spam } ben
[Eventually, she finds herself in the chapel. She has no question that Ben knows what's happened, or at least that something's happened. There was that brief moment of breathlessness, open for all to see on the network, and he'll have seen that even if he didn't watch her go with Dillon later.]
[She sits cross-legged in the pew and looks clear-eyed at the opposite wall. After quite a while - an hour, she thinks, maybe a little bit more - she sends him a message.]
Need your help with something. Not an emergency. You can walk.
[Then she turns the communicator off, lays it beside her, and waits.]
[The mask is secured in her room before she goes anywhere. She goes back to check on it frequently, bordering on obsessively, straightening it in its place of pride hung above her desk. She wonders what it's like to live life, day in, day out, in a few square feet, never allowed to breathe free air but through that grille. It's so much easier to imagine through Hannibal's eyes than Will's. She never imagined it would be.]
[She knew there was another man here who went by his name, but he never seemed real. Now - even though this artifact was never his - now it feels like a real, possible future.]
[What she doesn't do is lose time. She walks with even breath and utter confidence, anywhere and everywhere, feeling the simple joy of movement. She is afraid of nothing. She looks people in the eye, even if only for fleeting moments as she passes, and she doesn't even consider pulling a scarf on over the scar on her neck.]
spam } alana
[There's no way Alana doesn't have questions. Abigail doesn't feel obliged to protect many people, but Alana - she's been lied to all this time. Longer than Abigail was lied to. Hannibal was a colleague. And now . . .]
[There are probably worse ways to find out, but Abigail can't think of any. Besides death at his hands, anyway.]
[After a silent struggle with her conscience, she grabs the keys to Alana's room and hurries there, letting herself in before she can change her mind.]
spam } ben
[Eventually, she finds herself in the chapel. She has no question that Ben knows what's happened, or at least that something's happened. There was that brief moment of breathlessness, open for all to see on the network, and he'll have seen that even if he didn't watch her go with Dillon later.]
[She sits cross-legged in the pew and looks clear-eyed at the opposite wall. After quite a while - an hour, she thinks, maybe a little bit more - she sends him a message.]
Need your help with something. Not an emergency. You can walk.
[Then she turns the communicator off, lays it beside her, and waits.]
[ Spam ]
Then I will do my best to continue to be worthy of your trust.
[Because like everything, being trustworthy is an ongoing process, a state of being requiring constant cultivation as opposed to a goal that can be reached and set aside. He must be trustworthy every time the darkness reaches for her, so that when he offers his hand, she will take it.
Now he looks at her hugging herself, tilting his head, and does not smile. Or rather, he does: just a little.]
Is there anything else I can assist you with at this time, Abigail?
[ Spam ]
[He's already done more than she'd ever have expected anyone to do for her. She looks away shyly, then to the mask in his hands, then meets his eyes again.]
Sometime later. Can we just . . . read together? Or something. I don't want to be alone too much.
[ Spam ]
[She is barely done speaking before he answers; he considers pointing out that she need not ask him to make time for her, that he is always available to make certain she is not alone too much, or at all if she likes. But she knows. The question is not quite rhetorical, but it isn't a literal interpretation, either.
Ben neither acknowledges nor attempts, for now, to hide the mask in his hands; he will take it back to his cabin, put it in a drawer, and pull it out when Abigail wishes to see it or asks about it. He reconsiders his answer instead, considers laying out his day's schedule for her, but in the end it is the most accurate answer: yes. Later, whenever she likes, they can read together, or something. Yes.]
Contact me when you would like my company. If I cannot come to you, I will tell you where I am and you may join me.
Thank you for contacting me this time.
[ Spam ]
[She searches for words, ways in which to quantify or qualify him. But she can't. She loves him too much, and he is too indescribable. What it is to trust, what it means, why it's so strange and rare, she couldn't say no matter how hard she tried.]
[So she just smiles at him and ducks her head.]
Thank you for being Ben.