Hannibal landed in a crouch behind a voluptuous jasmine bush, the warm
evening making its romantic scent envelop him, further enhancing his mood.
Brushing dark lick of hair from his eyes, he crept forwards through the
colourful garden to the illuminated window he had last seen her.
Stopping at a spurting water fountain, he peered in at his moon-bleached reflection. Had the revolution going on inside him visible to others. Did his face not portray his smouldering heart? No. He looked as he always had. Dark hair falling in dark eyes, contrasting with pale skin. How could this be? He felt like a totally new person. Never before had he believed the magical effect of love that writers had celebrated for centuries. For the first time he had felt his soul stir as it saw its mate and had been accepted. His eyes rose to the window again, no more time for slacking, he had to go now. Carefully dodging the scope of the many long windows, he threaded his way forward once more.
Niftily scaling a trellis, he swung easily onto her balcony. Leaning past the trailing ivy bush he eagerly peered into her window. As his gaze found her, his head tilted slightly, carefully preserving the image. She was hunched, wings at her feet, head on knees-hidden in her arms. The very image of desolation. Lecter gently placed his palm on one of the thin panes of glass keeping him from her in a pathetic attempt to reach her, but underestimated the strength of the glass. The little square fell to the wooden floor within and shattered into thousands of even smaller squares and barbs. With feline reflex, Lecter dodged back to the ivy, shifting several leaves so his view was not obstructed in the slightest. His breath caught as he saw her slim fingers shift the pile of shattered glass, he pressed back further as the door swung open and she emerged into his adoring gaze. The doctor tipped his head and inhaled deeply and stored the scent in with some of his fondest memories-L'air du Temps, coconut skin cream and tears. Pleasure and pain in a single breath. Without knowing, Dr Lecter had been squeezing a single waxy leaf so hard its green blood was trickling over his pale fingers.
Oblivious to her admirer, Starling leaned on the balcony rail, letting the warmly scented breeze soothe her. Not even a full day had she been under this roof and already she wanted to leave. For a Starling to be seen with a Lecter by wilful choice was one worse than murder to her Aunt. Clarice was aware, of course, of the hatred grudge between the families. You couldn't be a Lecter or a Starling and not know, but how she despised it now.
Brushing her hair behind her ears, she considered the root of this problem -namely, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He was unlike any man she had ever met. She was used to men clamouring to tell her how beautiful she was but all she could see behind their eyes was raw lust. Lecter could give her one glance that told her she was beautiful and make her feel it. She also saw respect, which meant more to her than she could ever say. She craved it. She craved him.
"Hannibal, ", she whispered his name to the summer evening. Behind her, Dr. Lecters tongue flicked out slightly, so the tip rested on his lip and he watched her intently.
"Hannibal. Where are you now? Are you far away or still close by? Why should it be that a name can separate us? What does it matter what family we are from if we truly do love each other?"
Dr Lecter stepped forward a little, enchanted by her words.
"If he was not called Lecter, he would still be dear perfection he is now? A rose called by any other name would smell as sweet, and so it will be for us."
Hannibal stepped directly behind her, gently tracing the curve of her shoulder blade with an ivy leaf he had picked.
#I KNOW ITS ALL KINDA OLD ENGLISH DIALOGUE BUT IT IS A SHAKESPERE-ESQUE FIC SO IF IT REALLY BOTHERS YOU.TELL ME!! THIS MAY BE THE LAST CHAPTER IM PUTTING ON AS IM NOT HAPPY WITH IT SO FAR..ANY COMMENTS WOULD BE GRATEFULY RECEIVED WITH FRUIT BASKETS AND COOKIES..TA#
Stopping at a spurting water fountain, he peered in at his moon-bleached reflection. Had the revolution going on inside him visible to others. Did his face not portray his smouldering heart? No. He looked as he always had. Dark hair falling in dark eyes, contrasting with pale skin. How could this be? He felt like a totally new person. Never before had he believed the magical effect of love that writers had celebrated for centuries. For the first time he had felt his soul stir as it saw its mate and had been accepted. His eyes rose to the window again, no more time for slacking, he had to go now. Carefully dodging the scope of the many long windows, he threaded his way forward once more.
Niftily scaling a trellis, he swung easily onto her balcony. Leaning past the trailing ivy bush he eagerly peered into her window. As his gaze found her, his head tilted slightly, carefully preserving the image. She was hunched, wings at her feet, head on knees-hidden in her arms. The very image of desolation. Lecter gently placed his palm on one of the thin panes of glass keeping him from her in a pathetic attempt to reach her, but underestimated the strength of the glass. The little square fell to the wooden floor within and shattered into thousands of even smaller squares and barbs. With feline reflex, Lecter dodged back to the ivy, shifting several leaves so his view was not obstructed in the slightest. His breath caught as he saw her slim fingers shift the pile of shattered glass, he pressed back further as the door swung open and she emerged into his adoring gaze. The doctor tipped his head and inhaled deeply and stored the scent in with some of his fondest memories-L'air du Temps, coconut skin cream and tears. Pleasure and pain in a single breath. Without knowing, Dr Lecter had been squeezing a single waxy leaf so hard its green blood was trickling over his pale fingers.
Oblivious to her admirer, Starling leaned on the balcony rail, letting the warmly scented breeze soothe her. Not even a full day had she been under this roof and already she wanted to leave. For a Starling to be seen with a Lecter by wilful choice was one worse than murder to her Aunt. Clarice was aware, of course, of the hatred grudge between the families. You couldn't be a Lecter or a Starling and not know, but how she despised it now.
Brushing her hair behind her ears, she considered the root of this problem -namely, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He was unlike any man she had ever met. She was used to men clamouring to tell her how beautiful she was but all she could see behind their eyes was raw lust. Lecter could give her one glance that told her she was beautiful and make her feel it. She also saw respect, which meant more to her than she could ever say. She craved it. She craved him.
"Hannibal, ", she whispered his name to the summer evening. Behind her, Dr. Lecters tongue flicked out slightly, so the tip rested on his lip and he watched her intently.
"Hannibal. Where are you now? Are you far away or still close by? Why should it be that a name can separate us? What does it matter what family we are from if we truly do love each other?"
Dr Lecter stepped forward a little, enchanted by her words.
"If he was not called Lecter, he would still be dear perfection he is now? A rose called by any other name would smell as sweet, and so it will be for us."
Hannibal stepped directly behind her, gently tracing the curve of her shoulder blade with an ivy leaf he had picked.
#I KNOW ITS ALL KINDA OLD ENGLISH DIALOGUE BUT IT IS A SHAKESPERE-ESQUE FIC SO IF IT REALLY BOTHERS YOU.TELL ME!! THIS MAY BE THE LAST CHAPTER IM PUTTING ON AS IM NOT HAPPY WITH IT SO FAR..ANY COMMENTS WOULD BE GRATEFULY RECEIVED WITH FRUIT BASKETS AND COOKIES..TA#