✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

19

Hello, everyone! Just popping in to say that I made a Spotify playlist for this fic, and it would be really great if you checked it out!! Title is "Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram AU." Hope you enjoy both the music and the upcoming chapters <3

"You see, Azmaveth?" said Mortifico, gazing over at his newly-returned son. "This is what happens when we breed with mortals."

Hannibal had returned when his father called for him in the middle of watching Will Graham, and now they looked down at a young girl, a five-year old, crying on the streets—all alone, dirty, and ragged.

"She has Death's blood in her, but she isn't aware. The air she possesses persuaded her parents to abandon her."

"Like we have the air of power?"

Mortifico nodded, black wings stretching behind him. "Watch over her for a while. Despite being a half-breed we must protect our kind."

Azmaveth nodded, wings ruffling. "How long do I stay with her?"

"However long you like," said Mortifico. "Will Graham still has time for you."

Azmaveth bowed his head, stepping up to the edge of the clouds. "Goodbye, father."

His father returned the gesture, sending him off with a wave.

"Go, Hannibal," he said softly. "Watch over her."

...
Hannibal opened his eyes, the chill of the clouds faint in his senses. Memory tingled in the back of his head, and he stood up from his office, knowing exactly where to go.

Images of when he was younger played through his head as he picked up his coat. The young girl, he an adult with a younger mortal form, emotions and turmoil and voidness.

"Why are you here?" echoed his younger voice as he entered his car and put the key in the ignition.

"This place feels like how I feel. Cold and empty..." A flash of hopeful blue. "Can you join me?"

Hannibal drove through the pale night, minutes bleeding into hours. He knew where she'd be—after she'd kill, or even if she'd just feel empty, she would go to a cold, dreary place. The only challenge was finding the right place with no knowledge of the Virginia landscape.

Fatigue never once crossed his form, but as time passed, he cursed the restrictions of his mortal body. He'd find her faster if he had his wings, but it was too dangerous; despite the darkness of the night, there was always the risk of a human witnessing him. So, he kept to his vehicle, pulling over occasionally to search through promising patches of forest.

He continued for the whole night, noting the horizon lightening. Sleep finally threatened his human shell, and he cursed, not giving up. He traveled for a few more hours, the clock hitting five in the morning. Color began to bleed into the sky.

"I'm here, Echo," he mumbled to himself, searching the sides of the road. "I am here."

Suddenly, that scent pummeled him, and he abruptly pulled over in drowsy surprise. That dull, void pulse that cried of emptiness—so near, so close, so raw. He exited the car and walked towards the atmosphere, faint but still noticeable. Dense, dewey-wet thicket brushed against his dress pants, and branches snapped under his feet. He continued for a few minutes, following her scent weaving through the trees.

"Hello?" he called, eyes sweeping through the dim underbrush. He searched for a well, taking a turn, and lit up when he saw one. Corroding stone and moss—a crumbling, dilapidated thing, but still perfect. Her scent was clear now.