Hannibal's house and elsewhere, Sunday afternoon

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was checking his e-mail on his tablet as Jono read. He followed a few links, checked something else, raised an eyebrow, and excused himself, taking his tablet and phone with him. He had a glint in his eyes.

He came back a few minutes later smiling.

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"The ground, the sea, and the air," Hannibal answered. "It's an organ played by the waves, amplified by the architecture." He stopped a few steps shy of the water, just far enough that the ground was mostly dry, and pulled Jono to sit with him. "The music of the world."

[furnaceface]

//It's... it's lovely,// Jono decided, sitting down and leaning a little to rest his shoulder against Hannibal's. //It's like it has a pulse. Like it's breathing all around us.//

He glanced Hannibal's way.

//Worth putting my book down for, I'd say.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smiled, listening to it. "I read about this place, and I had to come and see it. Hear it. I hoped you might enjoy it, too. La musique souvent me prend comme une mer," he quoted.

[furnaceface]

//Hm?// Jono's eyes closed as he let himself get swept away in the sound of the waves, and the music, and of Hannibal himself. //Sorry, my French is probably something I'm going to need to work on next...//

Hey, he had German under his belt and a smattering of Lithuanian and American Sign Language, and he was even beginning to pick up bits and pieces of Spanish from their sessions reading to kids at the library. French wasn't exactly on his radar yet.

//Caught 'music,' though.//

The important bit.

[sharp_as_knives]

In lieu of translating out loud, Hannibal pressed closer to Jono, thinking it at him - shades of meaning coming through more clearly and not interrupting the sound. Music often transports me like the seas.

[furnaceface]

Jono gave a small nod of his head in comprehension, giving a reply in shades that were much like the ones Hannibal had sent to him. It was... apt. If it was a poem, because lord, that sounded like a poetic statement right there, he might have to hear the rest of it at some point.

For now... this was... it was good.

//Thank you,// he murmured, a more put-together thought than the rest of it. //I don't think I realized how much I needed this outing. Can we stay awhile?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I was planning on it." Hannibal wrapped an arm around Jono. "As long here as you like, then perhaps dinner. Our return portal isn't until later this evening."

[furnaceface]

Jono nodded his head, snaking his own arm around Hannibal in turn. It was difficult to put a finger on what was was so entrancing about this place, about the seemingly random tones that washed up from the ground around them, but if he kept his eyes closed and just let himself drink it in, he could almost pretend that the rhythm of the sea was the heartbeat he didn't have, and the music was a voice that he sorely missed.

//Maybe after dinner, we can play,// he mused. //Theremin, perhaps. Or my guitar and your harpsichord... Something. A duet...//

He wanted to sing.

[sharp_as_knives]

"A duet," Hannibal agreed. He closed his eyes and just experienced the tidal music and the wind for a few moments himself. "With instruments for now." He rubbed Jono's side where they'd been working on growing the skin. "Only for now."

And in the meantime, there was music in the sea. There was always music, everywhere.

[furnaceface]

//Only for now.//

[sharp_as_knives]

They sat there for some time, mostly quiet, enjoying the sound and the peace. As the sun set, Hannibal stirred and nudged Jono, bringing his attention to the side, where a circular area started lighting up in patterns. "The Greeting to the Sun," he murmured in explanation.

[furnaceface]

//To the sun?// Jono glanced toward it thoughtfully. //After the sunset? Seems like a backwards time to say hello, isn't it?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Perhaps," Hannibal agreed. "But the cells are solar powered." The light patterns changed, complementing the organ notes in swirls and lines.

[furnaceface]

//Solar...// Jono sat in silence, watching the patterns form to complement the music. //So, in a sense, it's the sun itself, continuing to shine even after it's set.//

There was a pause, and then he was shaking his head, looking amused.

//Bloody hell, look at what you've got me doing. I'll be reciting poetry myself, at this rate.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Nothing wrong with poetry," Hannibal answered, smirking. "And it's difficult not to be poetic - the sun, the sea, and the wind are all playing music for us."

[furnaceface]

//Nah, I suppose not,// Jono agreed. //I never really was the terribly poetic type, though.//

Lies. Lies, Jono.

[sharp_as_knives]

"No?" Hannibal's smirk widened a bit. "In that case, should I apologize for bringing you to a place that inspires it?"

[furnaceface]

//Well, that really depends on how you intend to apologize,// Jono teased, raising an eyebrow and reaching for Hannibal's hand. //For all I know, it might involve more poetry, and then where'll I be, hm?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Listening to poetry," Hannibal answered. "Probably in several languages." Or possibly only in your mind, he thought. He cocked his head for a moment, then took in the lights and sounds and recalled them in detail, rearranging them into more structured music in his thoughts.

[furnaceface]

//Only you, Hannibal...// There was warmth in that statement, a sort of mild tingle of approval as the lights and the noises danced around in Jonothon's mind. He contemplated the arrangement, and then, in a shared mindscape, held out his hand to Hannibal, a smile toying at his lips. //Had to take something poetic and make it into a masterpiece, didn't you?//

[sharp_as_knives]

One of my favorite pastimes. Music, life, food - he did his best to make the poetic masterful. Or the banal poetic. Care to join me? He threaded some remembered notes into the ones currently playing, ending mid-phrase and drawing it out as he waited.

[furnaceface]

//Of course,// Jono replied, taking a step forward in that mindscape they were threading together, a light and a note to punctuate that step rising up and sweeping around them both. In the distance, the music that was rising up all around them played a quiet harmony to Hannibal's melody.

Jono smiled some more, flames flickering up over blue-tinted skin.

//Always wanted my own light show.//

A line of green. A swirl of blue. A breath, a heartbeat, a splash of red.

[sharp_as_knives]

A raised mental eyebrow was Hannibal's answer to that. Along with a swirl of light that resembled flame and a low rumble of harmonics.

[furnaceface]

And Jono met all of that with an easy laugh, one that called up shades of violet that rose and fell with his laughter, that pulsed in and away with the ocean's breath.

//Showoff,// he accused, licking his lips and tilting his head back a little as he took in the sound of the music again. //And here I thought flame was my territory.//

[sharp_as_knives]

That being my point, Hannibal said, amused. Your own light show?