IC Contact [Asgard]

[infomodder]

Catch all IC contact post for Will Graham at asgardeventide
[ Text | Voice | Video | Action ]

[Note: Will is unlikely to use video unless there is a good need for it. He'd be more inclined to do text until he's made a substantial recovery and becomes more comfortable with voice.]

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[climbingwalls]

[There's the soft sound of her struggling to keep her breathing under control as she listens, staving off a reaction she hasn't fully given herself the chance to handle yet. She never sat down and let herself deal with what had happened, after getting here. Shock wore off and she didn't let herself think about it any more.

But she's not in private, even if she has enough distance from people to be sure she's not being overheard, to be comfortable talking. Being seen is a different question. And even if she was going to give in, break down over her death and Lecter's betrayal, she wouldn't do it with Will on the other end. She doesn't need to be overheard.

So she latches on his offer to not tell him as a cue to leave it behind. If there's anything else she feels like he needs to know about it, she can leave it for him later. And by the time he stops, her voice is nearly steady again.]

Okay. [It's quiet, and she's not even sure if he can make out her voice at that volume. She swallows and takes another breath before repeating herself.] Yeah. I think you're right. I don't know if you've said anything, but....

[And if he did, she wants to know; whether to avoid the people he's mentioned her to, or to at least be aware of them, she could decide later. But she's not even sure how to ask for that, so she trails off, pauses and picks up a moment later.]

I haven't. I didn't really tell anyone... anything about home.

[But he could probably have guessed that much.]

[infomodder]

[She's not the only one who hasn't given herself the time to break down over Lecter's betrayal. His didn't result in death, but he's still got a lot of issues with it. His resulted in Abigail's death, he's sure of it, and if she mentions grieving for herself, he won't say anything about his own. Everything he has to do for her has to be all for her, no need for him to go about inserting himself into everything.

Lecter brought them together. Lecter tore them apart. Lecter made her a ghost, and now they're both ghosts of a terrible past life to each other. As much as it hurts to hear her voice and see her face, he can cope. He's not sure it will be so easy for her (as if it's easy at all), so he'll hide away for the most part. She won't have to see him if she doesn't want to.

He'll haunt from the sidelines. There but not exactly present—isn't that a little like home?

Is there no good middle ground for them? He can't think of any.]

I haven't told anyone much past my job. I did mention you to a woman named Evelyn Carnahan, but just that I knew you. Nothing about how. She's trustworthy. [As trustworthy as anyone can be after the whole issues with murderers in hiding.] She's the only I've told. I won't tell anyone else. Probably best to keep any conversations we have on that network private, and if you need me, you know how to find me. [If you need me—what if she never needs him? Would that be so different from home?] Do you need me for anything now, Abigail?

[climbingwalls]

[She won't let him hide forever; but she won't seek him out often either. Maybe that's middle ground. Or the closest thing to it they're going to find.

She does her best to remember the name, mouthing it soundlessly to herself, somebody to look out for. To avoid? To something. She'll figure out what something is later. Private on the networks. That she'll have no problem with. The option to keep things private is one she'd probably abuse, if not for the fact that people might ask why she's keeping unimportant things private. Real privacy is still something of a gift.

And then she's silent, for long enough to be considering. Almost long enough to come off as a little unsure.]

No.

[She doesn't need anything, not really. What she wants -- well, she's not comfortable asking him for what she wants right now, and she doesn't exactly want it from him, even, just from someone. Things are too heavy, there's too much between them. She can't ask him to come distract her from thinking about home and how dangerous things are here, she can't ask him for a hug or to tell her it's going to be okay. She could -- he probably would -- but it would just be... weird.]

I'm okay for now. [She's not sure how convincing she sounds, but she tries.] I'll let you know if it changes. And, um, you know where I am, too, so. If there's anything.

[She can't imagine he'd actually need anything from her, but what does she know?]

[infomodder]

[The silence worries him. They've just told each other pretty heavy things, after all. But Abigail knows, she knows the truth, she knows who killed her, and apparently he confessed. That's more than Will got from him. He just danced around like he always had, danced around and tried to get Will to question his sanity again. It didn't work, and it wasn't going to, never again would he let himself fall under Lecter's sway. Right? If he showed up, armed with the information Will has now, there would be no way he could...

He wouldn't...

No matter how much Lecter might try to get him feeling back on top of the world, it would all be a lie. For nothing. He had Abigail's words now. It was all he needed. The silence—would she say anything or just—

Oh.]

Hopefully everything stays okay. [Hopefully you don't need me. It's a sad thought. Him not being needed, her not needing him, the two of them stuck in the same place but avoiding each other. Not so different from home, and he can't go about giving her the means to make fishing lures after all that talk of hunting and fishing and what he said.] And...yeah. I know where to find you if something comes up.

[He hesitates to say it, thinks about ending it there. But to leave her with such empty words, he can't really bring himself to do it.]

We'll be fine here, Abigail. Both of us. [Lecter's not here. He can make a promise. It won't be empty because it's just the two of them. Hopefully it'll stay that way.] I'll make sure of it.

[I promise you goes unsaid, and perhaps it's for the best. If things change

if anything changes

at least he didn't say he promised.]