( OPEN ) ALL HALLOW'S EVE FEAST

[relished]

WHO: Hannibal & you!
WHEN: October 31st
WHERE: his house
WHAT: The All Hallows Eve Feast
NOTES\WARNINGS: MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: involuntary cannibalism and one (1) artsy nsfw painting*. the link is to the painting leda and the swan. it's labeled with the star (★).




[the preparation for the party was more grueling than he's used to -- he was always able to hire a service to help his parties go as smoothly as possible, but he had to request the help of a few bots as well as Krouse to ensure that he would not be the one doing the serving.

one must knock before entering; greeted by a companion bot to take a coat if they have one. guests are guided through the foyer to the living room, an earthy room with heavy animal imagery. people are encouraged to socialize and relax in front of the roaring fireplace. several small tables have centerpieces of wildflowers that Hannibal has collected and grown as he's spent his time here.

the kitchen is off-limits, but if one might happen to stray into the stark, morgue-like space before Hannibal politely ushers them back out, they'll see Clarke's drawing of the emberbloom and and shadowbloom flowers from months ago as the only picture on the otherwise spotless refrigerator. having the flier there is no accident. he meant for a few curious onlookers to see what is left of her. perhaps it's Hannibal's intention to lead old friends of Clarke's astray to believe he is responsible for her disappearance. he's able to play now, plucking at the strings of minds to enchant and mortify. he knows that suspicions will have risen, but after tonight he's prepared for the onslaught -- so why not have as much fun before the inevitable?

scents of roast meat, cranberries and rosemary embrace guests immediately, delightfully lacing through the halls while classical music beckons them further into unknown horrors. Krouse can be seen making rounds with hors d'oeuvres, an interesting combination of cubed watermelon with what appears to be proscuitto meticulously shaped in the form of a rose, while companion bots carry glasses filled with red wine from his personal collection.

the dining room is lush, one wall stocked with herbs and hanging rosemary and forest imagery. the other wall with a painting above another fire which crackles softly. the mantle, simple yet jarring; large horns on either side with smaller ones laid out between them. the centerpiece is ★Leda and the Swan★, looming as the horns threaten to swallow the painting whole. the table is already set, porcelain charger plates laid in their respective places, with clean empty glasses and three carafes filled with water along the center. small vases of more wildflowers are in along the spread with lit red candles as well, but the table itself manages not to look too busy. snow droplets silently stick to the glass doors and windows, making the home feel warm; gentle, even.

Leda and the Swan is not the only painting to fill his home - art is everywhere, from the foyer to the kitchen, paintings and lithographs can be found in every room. the living room is especially the most wild, with the large oak doors and polished desk and chairs with claws.

Hannibal languidly wanders to greet guests who have made their way inside, dressed in a three-piece suit as usual with a glass of red wine in hand, motioning to wine or snacks. the sophistication that exudes from his home (and himself) can't be missed. those who have never experienced wealth may feel out of place, yet directly eased into the mixed warmth that is passed out with food and wine.]




[after an appropriate amount of time of socializing has passed and he's had help from Krouse to set the table so all of the food is available at once, he alerts everyone by a gentle clink of metal against crystal.]

Dinner is served. Please make your way to the dining room.

[anyone who asks exactly what they are eating is informed that it is veal. "how did you get veal" one may ask, and he'll respond with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eyes. everything they have been consuming and continue to consume has been the body of Samil, every part harvested for use. a petite heart (yes, heart) tartare is served alongside a smaller version of osso buco, which he explains is a traditional Italian dish, with seasonal vegetables.

wine has been replenished, and once settled at the table he raises his glass.]

I hope everyone enjoys eating this meal as much as I did preparing it.

[dig in.]

(ooc: everyone welcome! top level as u desire, tag out to others, get hannibal, etc etc. if you dont want to do an open tl and only want hannibal make sure to add closed to your starter. i won't be adding a starter for him bc this entire party is basically one giant one for him and he can be approached anywhere :) any questions can be left here. ps do not have your character go upstairs that's insane, why would they do that, they'll be redirected ominously. )

Comments

[relished]

A gear inside of Hannibal switches, interest perking when Harold refers to him with the added formality. If that was Krouse's doing, which he assumes so, he'll have to reward him for that later. He opens up toward Harold as much as he can open toward anyone, his divided attention not so divided anymore.

"I save it for special occasions," and this is quite special, he thinks. A fleeting look toward the living area, he has a prideful air about him that he needn't speak on. One glance at Harold, and Hannibal deducts that the two of them may share their taste of selective solitude, but Hannibal thrives in an environment that he controls, especially one where people are unknowingly consuming a piece of what they consider forbidden flesh all by his own hand. "And guests, of course."

Back to Harold, so much said with so little. He notices how he favors one side, how he holds his glass, how he is doing his best to be courteous but not in the discomforting way that often leaves Hannibal finding somewhere else to be.

"It feels wrong of me to thank someone who knows my name, yet I don't know theirs."

[ornithologist]

Some might consider polite speech a game, but Harold dislikes games as a rule. Instead, the careful exchange of words speaks to him on a personal level, a way of negotiating distance -- in most cases maintaining his distance, but not always, a subtler give and take of personality than most people engage in. He likes words fundamentally, likes being articulate and multi-layered, and he always appreciates the mental exercise when someone matches him on it.

So his bearing doesn't come off as false at all. Harold was expecting this request for his name as the next natural part of the script and replies smoothly.

"Of course. My name is Harold Finch; I only arrived here just recently. And I'm afraid I've come to the limits of my knowledge already," he says in a faintly apologetic tone. "I'm appreciating your Scotch and your art collection but I know so little about the man who curated them."

[relished]

This small event is the most Hannibal has ever even hinted at a smile, ever. He tips his chin in acknowledgement, knowing that Harold is as new and fresh as a few others who have meandered through his door. Etraya has a certain scent to it, the air comprised of different chemicals. It sticks to people, and Harold doesn't have that. His home still clings to him.

"Thank you, Harold," he sounds humble, as though compliments are easily brushed off - or appreciated but already known.

"If someone new were to know more about me, I'd be curious as to what it would be," light teasing, a new familiarity in his tone. "What would you like to know?"

[ornithologist]

He would vastly prefer to be called Mr. Finch but can't quite determine how to say that without disrupting the polite flow of conversation. Maybe he'll just pointedly keep saying Dr. Lecter. He's hardly taken in by the apparent humility. Anyone with this kind of set up is aching to be acknowledged -- that he's gracious when it happens is its own information, but he doesn't mistake it for true humility. If anything, it feels more like his due.

"Your first name, for one," he says with a quirk of his lips, more opaque than humorous. "Since we're on a first name basis." Ah, there it is, that's the right way to slide that in.

"Apart from that, I must wonder how you acquired these pieces under our circumstances." Harold nods toward the nearest piece of art. "Some of them I recognize."

[relished]

Oh, that's a sorry attempt at ruffling his feathers, even if Harold makes it out to be a gentle correction. Hannibal, on the other hand, feels he's touched on something that Harold otherwise wouldn't want him to. He's going to remember that.

"Hannibal," he says, but nothing suggests that Harold should be calling him by his first name at all. "I asked for my house, they arrived with it. As did the furniture."

And everything else currently visible. Nothing truly useful, the crossbow and wine came later. He didn't have to ask for supplies that would make him look suspicious - luckily, the hospital provided as much.

"You have a good eye. Not many here can say that, but they haven't been invited into my home, either."

[ornithologist]

Harold is not ever trying to pick a fight with anyone, but he still seems to spend an inordinate amount of time and energy defending his own boundaries. Like he is now. That doesn't mean he'll resort to using those same tactics that are used against him-- Harold has, and always will, be the sort of person who refuses to let someone else diminish his moral position. He isn't a pushover, and he'll make his stance clear, unwavering; but he has his own standards of behavior and he doesn't allow anyone else to prod him into relinquishing them.

Though it is highly aggravating at times, and more of a challenge some times than others.

"I have some familiarity with art, though I'm no expert," Harold returns. His sense of humility is honest, and entirely accurate in this case. "Is this your first time opening your home to others here? I've been considering what to request with what points I earn, myself."

He has been. Harold is quite aggrieved to be without his usual (considerable) resources and forced to scrounge around on the kindness of others. He intends to rectify that and establish what he can of his usual set up as quickly as possible, which means he has a massive list of items (and one dog) he wants to acquire.

[relished]

"By all means, familiarize yourself here. I'd go over each painting with you, but I'm afraid we'd miss dinner," a sidelong glance to Harold, then up to Leda. His home is about as close to a museum as Etraya will have, unless someone decides to put in a request for one.

"It is. I suggest basing your requests off of your survival," being as creative as one can, essentially. Hannibal can hold his own against many, but Harold doesn't look the type to use brute force — unless absolutely necessary. "Else you may find yourself in an unfortunate circumstance."

It's unclear whether that's a warning, or a subtle hint that he's already walked right through the dragon's den. Humorous only to Hannibal, since there is a dragon lurking on the planet somewhere last he checked.

[ornithologist]

He's not actually interested in perusing the art gallery on offer as a serious pastime. Harold genuinely enjoys art, and it means something special to him now, with Grace left behind; he isn't keen to share it with someone he's just met and who's as good, if not better, as he is at creating distance with words. Formal parties have always been a place he needs to be on edge looking for threats, and Harold isn't about to let down his guard now, newly arrived in Etraya.

Especially after a statement like that.

"You don't seem like someone who's found themselves in unfortunate circumstances," Harold notes mildly in response. "But I can't imagine an evening like tonight is about survival."