✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

10

"The boy's persistence will chase my immortality to the ends of the earth, Azmaveth," the god, Mortifico, drawled, gazing down at the earth. "Despite his revelations, he still continues to kill for me."

He sighed, catching his son's attention—a young boy reaching his early adulthood. He approached his father slowly.

"Is it Will Graham, Father?"

"My only admirer," he said.

Azmaveth blinked. "You brought his mother to peace."

Mortifico nodded with another sigh. "And he's been killing for us ever since. Let run the blood of his own kin."

"His own father."

A silence fell over them, and the two gods stared out over the clouds, lingering in the air's cool, gentle embrace. After a while, Azmaveth spoke up.

"Let me talk to him," he said.

"What?"

Azmaveth glanced over at his father, black eyes glinting. "I want to know this Will Graham. Understand his every movement—the reasons behind them." He leaned closer to Mortifico, midnight wings fluttering. "I want to know why he's so infatuated with our legacy. Memorize the itch beneath his skin that drives his mortal brain to kill in cold blood."

Mortifico stared down at his son, pride glimmering in his eyes. "Your talk promises dangerous roads, son."

"What good am I up here?" he breathed. "Allow me to extend our legacy. Make Death known for what we truly are."

Another silence fell over them, and Mortifico gazed at Azmaveth, examining his features—the fire of his eyes; the strength of his silent, deadly build. A true, sly embodiment of Death itself.

"You must build a reputation," said Mortifico, "down in the mortal realm."

Azmaveth straightened himself, listening to his father's every words.

"Humans have built their system on power. If your speak stands concrete, you must push your way through the ranks. Gain respect. Analyze every movement that those mortals make and learn their ways." Mortifico gave a slender, chilling smile. "But most importantly, you must harbor the trust of Will Graham."

"Yes, Father. I will do exactly as you say."

Mortifico nodded, staring back down at the earth. Azmaveth followed his gaze.

"You will not journey alone. Your four horsemen will accompany you." He glanced over at his son. "Let them carve their own paths. It is only when you truly see fit that they plot by your side."

Azmaveth nodded.

"Do not forget your duties," said Mortifico. Another pause fell between them, and he pat his son's head with chilling fingers.

"Make me proud, Hannibal."

...

Tension swam between Hannibal and Will as they stared at one another, silent after Will's confession. Despite the uncomfort brewing in the air, the ghost of a smirk flashed across Lecter's lips. Will Graham wavered.

"You're awfully fine about this," muttered Graham, eyeing him closely. "I just admitted I'm a killer, Dr. Lecter. A murderer."

"My reaction gives you pause, does it not?"

Will scoffed. "Obviously."

Another tense, charged silence fell between them, and Will shifted in his seat. He kept his eyes on Hannibal, perking up when he opened his mouth.