Six Sentence Sunday
Sep. 22nd, 2019 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dreamerinsilicoI just got reminded that this is a thing, and I am in fact actually trying to work on the next chapter of my Hannibal fic, so here are six rather long sentences:
Sleep is a fitful, fleeting thing. Will dozes in short stretches, and every time he sinks beneath the waves of his subconscious, he finds himself sinking beneath much more literal waves, again and again searching for Hannibal in the roiling, cold dark of the Atlantic.
Sometimes he finds him, limp and unresponsive and impossible to haul out of the water. Sometimes he’s just gone, and once, Jack is somehow there to personally pull Will from the ocean, while Will struggles to keep searching. Once, with a surreal sense of peace, Will finds both himself and Hannibal on the ocean floor, still holding one another, their hair drifting lazily like kelp as they kneel in something more akin to suspended animation than to death.
When he finally wakes up enough to stay that way, he is still so tired that despite the discomfort of his makeshift pallet on the floor, he doesn’t move for a long time, groggy inertia outweighing all other bodily imperatives.
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