you see a lot, doctor.

*Lecter* · September 19, 2013, 11:53 PM

because screw timelines

He had followed the thin trail of her scent to this place; Lecter was fiercely protective of his Clarice, though he struggled and succeeded within himself in giving his daughter the space she craved. And so the pale madman had followed at a distance, scowling somewhat as her path crossed with that of a male.

At length, he lifted his head. He had been too far off to hear the words exchanged, but he saw the distant white form of Clarice drifting across the land, presumably toward a stand of trees nearby. And in her wake! in her very wake! a male followed. An older man, from the gait and goitered belly. Lecter felt anger fill him, a molten wave of fury that swept through his very core.

She was too young! too innocent! It was for her age that he thought these things, not his child's actions; she was more than capable of defending herself, and he suspected she had already brought death to many a creature.

But this knowledge did not stop the man in his tracks; Lecter was already lashing at the ground with swift, bloodied paws, his stride that of a younger wolf, imbued with the rage of a father and the power he had long thought forgotten.

A dark dirge poured from his lips; he came upon the pair swiftly, and saw that the strange male's body betrayed his intentions. Lunging for the closing gap betwixt the old fool and his daughter's hips, the shaman snarled, grasping his footing for one moment before he pivoted, teeth cutting in a flash toward the would-be thief of Clarice's maidenhead.

There was no mercy in his icewater eyes; Lecter fully intended murder this day.