• • • Daughter of Three

Abigail Hobbs RP from the television series, "Hannibal" on NBC. For more information on my portrayal of her, the "Navigate" page should be helpful. However, if you're interested in the story of the daughter of three, the "Biography" page should suit you much better. tracking #filledetrois Note that I am very picky when roleplaying with characters outside of the Hannibal verse so much that I'm almost not an indie RP. This just helps me stay in character. That's all, not hating on anyone.

[thefreaksdaughter]

Abigail & Amelia; les monstres

"May I help you?"

[fille-de-trois]

Abigail's breath released dry, shaky like she'd run for miles; she felt like she had been. Running was a part of her Dad's life, only he did it more elegantly and with much more expertise than she could ever imagine having -- the anxiety was hard enough to handle as it was. Maybe she hadn't aided any from becoming friends with people deep in the F.B.I. and in turn, it had got her deeper into trouble. It seemed like everyone wanted to sink their teeth into a piece of Abigail Hobbs. The papers, the FBI, the reflection of her Father in the action and motives of two men that had no idea how wrong they were; it was everywhere. She needed a place to escape, a place to be herself but to do that, she would have to face the monstrosity inside of her. She would have to admit to what she'd done.

---- "Maybe? Is your name..." The young girl nervously glanced down at a piece of scrap paper in her trembling fingertips. "Amelia?"

[plantial-deactivated20140823]

"What are you trying to catch?"

"The one who caught you."

[fille-de-trois]

/

I'm back! Sorry for the absense. I missed you guys.

[freshsounds]

Visit Original Link

The Neighbourhood ✖ Wires 

The wires getting older 

I can hear the way they’re creaking.

[peche-allee]

Fishing for a Connection // fille-de-trois {Abigail}

[fille-de-trois]

peche-allee:

                      Will tried with as much strength as he could muster up not to smile or laugh for that matter. Choosing to not call her out on what she hadn’t remembered, he went with a subtle approach. “Do you remember when we made the lures? They believe the lures, that we made, are wounded insects swimming against the current.” [....]

Abigail shook her head slowly, "No, I don't remember." and she didn't. All she remembered was being here in this silent, safe place surrounded by the beauty of the foliage casting shadows across the bright green lands and breathing in lungfuls of the cleanest air she'd ever inhaled.

                             She laughed at his statement about the scenery but left that statement to rest in her heart and linger in the air. She felt a comfort knowing she could let them rest for a while, don't question them. Just let him enjoy what he'd said and be confident in it. "Do you remember anything from your childhood, Will?" They seemed too much alike for them to not have similar traits or at least a familiar memory that rung true to the both of them.

                                               "I remember you calm. I remember you upset. I remember you human." She assured him and glanced in his direction, searching for lines on his face to show his true emotions. "I remember [...] leaving whenever things got too rough." She knew he would assume leaving permanently but the words released from her lips before she could take them back.

                            "Outside of here?" She hesitated. To tell him would be to admit the truth to herself, so instead she got caught up in the movement of the waves, watching them move around them like they had places to be and things to do, like everyone else moved around them. It was a quiet, selfish notion but it was a harmless reminder of what lives they lead outside of this small corner of perfection in a world that they don't even try to travel out of; a subconscious decision of staying still in a place that they're safe and familiar with, fear of going elsewhere, most likely. If Will's world even goes beyond this deep river which she doubted heavily. "Hell," she finally answered honestly, "But a fight if you're willing. You are aware of your convictions in here, aren't you?"

[fille-de-trois]

"I love you." Without meaning to, the three words spilt out. And before he could snatch them back, he found himself believing in them.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like someone truly meant the three words that released from the wounded mans lips. She almost didn’t believe them so much that she silently glanced around to assure herself that no one else was near. As there was nigh a person in sight, she felt a quiet calm rest inside of her stomach as her heartrate accelerated. The last person she heard say those cursed words proved that he didn’t mean it. Her Father had made sure that the it’s meaning and origin was something defined more by ‘give something to me, and I’ll give something to you’, a bargain. Will Graham, however, wouldn’t give out the words without truly meaning them. He would choke on them before he said it in vein. "I love you, too."

[fille-de-trois]

I love you.

Abigail took two single steps back, trying not to trip over herself. Love was a lost concept to her, by means of any way you could work around the word and turn it over in your hand until it turns into I hate you, and everyone should have just said the latter instead. "It’s a bit old fashioned, isn’t it?" She glanced over at Hannibal like a scared child. She didn’t directly meet his gaze, her focus was directed more at his suit where a distracting texture rested against his chest. "Love, I mean. No one really means it."

[bloodlustalice-deactivated20130]

Put " I love you." in my askbox and see how my muse reacts.

[fille-de-trois]

"There’s a first time for everything."

"I don’t really think there’s a first time for Sashimi for me.” Abigail glanced down at the meal that Hannibal had prepared for her. She wanted to be courteous. Maybe if she shoved it down and finished it off quickly, it would go faster and she would barely taste it. Maybe the other way around; nibbles. She doubted that she would be able to force down raw fish with soy sauce which was what the serving actually was without all of the fancy words. Sashimi literally translated to sliced raw fish. Regardless, she swallowed her pride and took a couple bites of the ‘fine cuisine’ that he was so inclined to give her.

[fille-de-trois]

"Is that my diary?"

"Well, I thought it was your cookbook.” […] “But now that I know that it’s a diary, I’m even more interested.”

[fille-de-trois]

"Hand me that doohickey."

"You know, your country slang still surprises me.” Abigail said, barely audible, to the man opposite her. She almost expected the city to pour out of Will whenever he opens his mouth but instead, and oddly enough, he came off with words like “doohickey” and countless metaphors for his childhood. Regardless, she handed him the “fly” bait that he asked for, neon in color and nearly weightless in her hands.

[fille-de-trois]

"I’m not scared."

Abigail light-heartledly chuckled. It was funny to see Will Graham lie. It felt similar to being in a cellar while there’s a tornado straight outside your window - your Mother is freaking out. In this theoretical case, Abigail is. And your Father, calm as ever. Not a single flinch on his face. Just a collection of reassuring serenity and nigh a worry in sight. If you were to dig just a few inches deeper, though, you’d find everything spilling out of Will Graham like hundreds of gallons of water in just a four inches deep kiddie pool. She admired his bravery, strength, even his quiet lies, but she knew who he was to the core. "We’re all scared, Will."

[fille-de-trois]

/

Guess who's here actually working on her owes?

[fille-de-trois]

"Is there something on my face?"

Abigail glanced over at Mathilda’s pale, pixie-like face and despite her efforts, laughed out loud. "A bit of frozen — or melted, yogurt. What do you run at, 150 degrees?" She licked two of her fingertips and rubbed it off of the surface of her skin like a Mother would. Friends don’t let friends run around with melted white yogurt on their faces, though, right? x

[meimeiinabox]

Put one of these in my askbox to see how my Muse reacts

"Can you hide me?" "Come here often?" "Don’t drink that!" "Gotcha!" "Hand me that doohickey." "Here, try some of this." "I blame (insert name)" "I guess you did know what you were doing." "I have a bad feeling about this." "I have a good feeling about this." "I know a guy." "I think I screwed up." "I’m gonna get you!" "I’m not feeling well." "I’m not scared." "I’m too tired for adventures." "Is that my diary?" "Is there something on my face?" "It’s my fault." "It’s perfect!" "It’s your fault." "Let’s have an adventure!" "Not that one, the other one!" "Prove it!" "Stay there. I’ll make you breakfast." "That’s the dumbest story I’ve ever heard." "That’s the last time we do that." "There’s a first time for everything." "Where are you hiding?" "Where were you yesterday?" "Why are you crying?" "Will you tell me a story?" "You don’t need to prove anything." "You’re not looking too hot."

[starshands-archive-blog]

The Itinerant Survivor • • Mathilda + Abigail | closed.

"Is that frozen yogurt?"

[fille-de-trois]

Abigail now liked getting lost in a relatively large forest or on a long, lonesome highway. It seemed fitting to be a quiet wanderer on streets where no one knew her. Given, that meant drifting a decently far length. In the places that her Father used to trek, he would take it miles upon miles. It felt like everyone who ever came in contact with her, however, was lifeless, consumed. "It ... is." Abigail choked out hesitantly. She had become weary of socialization; a subject which had become slightly foreign to her just in the whirlwind of what her Father had forced upon her. [...] "You can help yourself, I don't feel too good anyway." Her hands practically shoved the small cup of gunk towards the young girl who looked like she needed it more than her, anyway, at her size.

[peche-allee]

Fishing for a Connection // fille-de-trois {Abigail}

[peche-allee]

A chuckle released from deep in his throat soon followed by the tug of a smile on the edge of his dry lips. They had been lost here for hours and hours, though the sun seemed to be setting the darkness never fell upon them. He could stay like this, for hours upon hours if he wasn’t disturbed and yanked by the throat into his reality.

With each passing second he could feel himself envying everything he had here and a strong execration for everything he was going through in the realm of the living.

This is his heaven.

“The line is heavier. We have no need for the regular fishing tackle. With fly fishing we aren’t using insects to lure the fish." Will gave her a light nudge back and looked at her directly in the eyes when speaking. His fear of her knowing his secrets no longer existed, she could see and know everything here. Hiding things from Abigail wouldn’t be a priority. Caring for her, showing his affection [..] that was his priority. “The way we maneuver the line..” Will demonstrated this by grabbing hold of her line and giving it a few gentle tugs before letting the line go with the stream. “…They think it’s a wounded insect or whatever you want to call it that’s fighting the water, trying to survive to no avail. They’ll give it a bite and that is when we pull the line in.”

He ignored the last part of her sentence and gave a half-hearted smile. “Abigail…" his voice was hoarse, throat becoming dry. He could feel his palms actually sweating from the interaction he wanted so desperately to cling to. "…Do you like it here?”

[fille-de-trois]

Abigail jerked on the line habitually. She couldn't remember the last time it was that she went fishing, especially like this. "What exactly do they think is a wounded insect? The weight of the line?"

She nodded assuredly in his direction. "I like it, love it even." A calm silence rested between them. Abigail drunk in the surroundings of the, now placid, mans tranquil palace that he'd created. Everything felt like falling in love. The smell of the salt water, the calm moving liquid slowly passing by them, the tall green trees, the light fog dancing over the surfaces of the grass, and the sunlight beaming in through all of the crevices. "My Dad used to say that wherever you find peace has nothing to do with the actual place but what you feel in your heart. My heart feels light. Does yours?" [...]

"You know, Will. Izaak Walton once said that fly fishing was 'The Contemplative Man's Recreation'. Are you contemplating something? I mean, are we really here to fish or are we here to talk about what's going on out there?" With her free hand, she gestured towards the darker regions of the forest where shadows were cast against the foliage, bringing to life both of their nightmares. To Abigail, in the ignored, dark corners of their brightly lit world rested a pile of lifeless bodies thrown to the side like scraps when you're drawing and you mess up over and over again - never getting it right. To Will, Abigail assumed the trotting of stag hooves resounded inside of their quiet, still space. "He can't hurt you here."