#das-mannlein

[shadowsxetxlies]

@das-mannlein​​

Continued from [ xx ] 

Instinctive did not always mean intentional. In fact her response had been completely unplanned and by being unplanned had been reckless. The moment the knife nicked his flesh her breath caught. Panic filled her insides. Not even fear of what Hannibal would do to her, but the sudden realization that she had been prepared to hurt him. Something that she was almost sure she really hadn’t wanted to do. 

His hand closed around her wrist and her blue eyes were anxiously darting from the cut on his cheek, to his hand on her wrist, and to his eyes. She was searching for some sign of rage on his relatively calm demeanor. His lips had curled into that grin and she let out the smallest of breaths almost resembling a laugh. Was he amused? 

“If I had intended to actually harm you, I would have...” Her voice was soft. She almost flinched as her back collided gently with the wall behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment, partly awaiting her punishment. Would today be the day he killed her? She could feel his breath against her ear and neck. Her pulse jumped as the knife was freed from her grasp. Her eyes slowly opened, meeting his gaze once again. If he was going to stab her, she wanted to see it. 

She gave the smallest shake of her head. “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t want to kill you, Hannibal...” Her lips twitched downward into a frown. “Two for me; one for you. --but how many others have died at your hand, Hannibal? Don’t pretend my score is higher...” 

[storiesungaa]

🏆 This is the Amazing Person Award 🏆 ✨💚 Once you are given this award you are supposed to paste it in the ask of eight different people, who, in your opinion, deserve it. If you break the chain nothing will happen, but it is sweet to know someone thinks you’re amazing inside and out 💚

awww, thank you so much!!

[gvnpcwdr]

@das-mannlein​ // HANNIBAL LECTER. 

FEET POUND THE GROUND WITH EVERY STRIDE as she runs throughout the trail. Her heart pounds in her chest, rampant like birds trapped in a cage they wished not to be in. Much like Starling was, trapped in a particularly bad odour --- as Lecter put it --- with the FBI. John Brigham was dead, and her reputation with the Bureau is stained by the blood of Evelda Drumgo, by the trashy tabloids who would pay good money to get as much material on the agent as possible. 

She runs, not only to stay in shape, but in order to somehow quell the chaos around her, to escape her own misgivings, if only just for a while. As she runs, she feels eyes on her, as if someone was, perchance coveting her. Sweat dripped hair whips around, hitting her cheek as she turns to look behind her but she does not stop running not quite yet. No one was there - no one that she could see, at least. But this did not soothe her all too nagging feeling, the one that rises from deep within her gut; the one that tells her she’s not alone. Looking ahead once more, she continues to run, picking up her pace a bit. Muscles scream as she moves, but she welcomes it.

 And then, she swears she hears footsteps that are not her own; somewhere amidst the sound of wildlife, squirrels scurrying and insects chirping. Something familiar tugs at her, something she cannot seem to shake, or keep from the forefront of her mind. No matter how much she tries to ignore it, it continues to pull at her, like a child to a coat tail. Seeing a deviation from the path, she accesses the situation. She turns on the trail, taking the alternate route. This could be dangerous, she’d never ventured this part. But, then again, something about that excited her, too. Breaths, heavy and ragged, fill the air as she keeps running --- faster, steadier.

[shadowsxetxlies]

✨

This can be ever changing for her. Some of the most traumatic events that she has experience were caused by famille. She remembers being very family orientated. She remembers what it feels like to be loved and be a happy family, but because of the damage that some family members have caused she finds it hard to trust and love her family. They mean the world to her and she would probably walk through fire for the evilest of them, but five minutes later be screaming hate toward them. She’s often asking that question. Are they that important and at what cost?