OOM: For Sinric on Halloween

[cook_the_rude]

It seems like an invasion, the dirty, scruffy barbarian striding into the clean, civilised room. Kitchen and bed, desk and dining table, book cases and sofa are all still there. The prints on the walls today are vintage 1950s fashion plates and pin-ups, giving the place a touch of playfulness.

The large polished table with six chairs awaits the pleasure of the diners.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

"Perhaps memory and culture tints the way we see the place. Or the way we tell the tale."

He falls silent a moment, hand paused on Hannibal's chest. "I want to tell my Lord before he dies. I want him to know the truth."

[cook_the_rude]

"How are you going to do it?" Hannibal asks, running his hand over Sinric's bare shoulders.

[thewidewideworld]

He sighs, leaning into the touch. "A song. I've been writing it for some time now. It's... not very good. It's the first time I've written anything this complex."

[cook_the_rude]

"Would you like to sing it to me, later?" Hannibal says. "For some constructive criticism?"

[thewidewideworld]

"I would like that very much." Sinric smiles, sweet and a little vulnerable. "It's in the Greek of my time but you speak it well."

[cook_the_rude]

"I do," Hannibal says, "and I would very much like to hear it."

[thewidewideworld]

"Then when we are both rested, I would be glad to sing it for you. I still... there are parts of it I am yet to be happy with."

[cook_the_rude]

"I will be glad to help you with them," Hannibal promises.

He strokes Sinric's warm skin, and falls silent for the moment.-


[[OOC: Fade here?]]

[thewidewideworld]

{ooc: perfect. That was lovely!}