D E V O U R || HANNIGRAM // continuation

Chapter 9: Shards of Glass and Gold

When the sun had risen, Hannibal lifted himself from beside Will and let his eyes fall from him to the door which lay closed. Shifting forward, he rose up and rolled his shoulders a bit before walking forwards taking his burgandy robe nearby to swing himself into. Closing the door, he carefully strolled down the wooden stairs holding the draw strings together to keep the robe from falling open as the edges danced around his robust calves. The sunlight rays had illuminated the once very dark hall leading to the front door in which he opened, greeted by the warmmth cascading along his face along with the sincere smell of acorn breeze. The first signs of Autumn.

The first thing that Hannibal had even noticed besides Mother Nature was the white envelope sticking out from the mailbox, peering to it, he took the sleeve corner and gradually tugged it from the iron box.

Robertus Grey

written via cursiva on the front of the envelope, turning it over to see nothing else written on the pale parchment paper. He would glance around, raising his nose slightly as the air lifted his bangs from view only to see that the neighborhood street was very near empty infront of their home. He sought the doorknob, turning it and his back to reenter the home and closing it to behind him. Heated bare feet scraped along the cool cherry wood flooring on the mans merrily way to the kitchen in where he'd stand near the counter, taking a butterknife he'd lift the sleeve of the envelope to tear a clean cut in a line formation along the top. Putting down the knife, he lifts the folded card from inside and glances to it's golden trim in which he fancied.

Nothing out of the ordinary, yet very formal; he decides to open it and give the letter a peek only to read that he has been invited to a Social Gathering of sorts. Goes as following:

To a Robertus Grey,

We have been aware of the new arrivals of neighbors within the enviroment. A close friend and I have invited you and whomever of your choice to come to our Social Gathering at Claridges.

This evening at eight-O'clock

We'll be having a grand time!

Hope to see you both there,

Brandon Abram

Hannibal folds the letter to its original setting as he hears the soft paddering of footsteps, followed by an exasperated sigh. "At least your walking. I'll clean this up." Will muttered from behind, referring to the blood that hadn't been taken care of the night before.

Grinning somewhat, he turns to see that the other was walking forward and dodging the dried blood splatters along the floor. "What do you have there, Hannibal?"

''An invitation. We've been invited to a Social Gathering at Claridges."

Without hesitation, Will took the letter from Hannibals hand and squared his jaw as he observed the paper upside down and sideways; "This was in our mailbox?" He asks, not looking up to the other as he took out the letter and placed aside the envelope onto the counter once again, opening it to read it himself.

"Brandon Abram?" Will questioned, only then raising his chin to Hannibal and giving his eyes an inquistive glare. He could see the dark hairs starting to sprout about his jawling and under Wills nose, surprisingly taking notice that his hair definitely didn't take long to grow back.

"I do not know this man, Will." He replied, as though knowing exactly why he was being questioned already. Will merely ran his left forefinger along his closed left eye and after shifting his hand along his chin, reached for the envelope and put the letter back into it's original place.