ecclesia

The abrupt shift in her stance, at the periphery of his vision, drew his gaze back to her darkened form. She was bristling like a wet cat, jaw clenched in a picturesque display of incandescent fury. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Replaced by a shock of sorrow across her regal facade. Deathbelle couldn't blink away the glassiness in her eyes this time, and the moonlight caught crystalline tears as they dripped down her cheeks. His heart pulled again, desperate to reassure her. No. He needed to stand firm. Figure out what she was playing at. Was it a game, a manipulation? Or was she sincere. He needed to know, or she'd know he was still unbearably weak when it came to blood. He glanced away again. Stared daggers at the strange spire of rock in the distance, and let it become his anchor- lest he be pulled into the stream of emotions that would ultimately drown him.

”I didn’t get to tell her I was sorry.” she breathed the words like a prayer, and they slipped across his flesh like sweet nothings. He'd waited so long to share his suffering with someone. It was all too good to be true, right? She had been so devoted to Hannibal, to following his ascension. What changed? ”I know she’d want me to say it to you.” her voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible. Yet, he felt each syllable seared into his brain. He'd relish this forever. The knowledge that, perhaps, there was hope for them. For him.

”I’m sorry.” raw desperation clogged her vocals, turned them ragged. His attention snapped to her masked features, finally drinking them in. The beginnings of a tender, sorrowful smile toyed at his inky lips. Dark brows pulled together as he rose to his paws, gaze never once leaving hers. Chiselled physique bathed in the moonlight, a veritable Adonis swathed in the night. His body moved without instruction, leaping from the body of the rusted tank so that he could crowd in close. Feel the softness of her fur -how drastic a change from when they'd parted- and taste the tears on her cheeks as he dared attempt to caress the plush fur with his rosy tongue.

"She knows," rumbling baritones softened to a whispery croon. "even in her last moments, she felt only love for you, for all of us." he promised gently, seeking to press against her right side with his own form. Perhaps if he lingered there long enough, their bodies would meld together. His larger frame, all sharp angles where hers was soft curves, fitting neatly against her. "You never needed to speak a word, Belle. She knew it all along." Ebony cloaked neck would seek to crane over her shoulders and tuck her slender neck under his throat and chin. "Nothing will tear us apart, ever again."

He would destroy Hannibal before he would let the Klein heir tear him away from his beloved sister, and that was the gospel that resonated deep in his soul.