etrayalogs | ( OPEN ) ALL HALLOW'S EVE FEAST

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( OPEN ) ALL HALLOW'S EVE FEAST

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. )

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[ There's a delay and there's clearly something running through Accelerator's mind, but Harold can't begin to guess at what it is. He doesn't rush him; he lets him think, even averts his eyes, gaze running casually across the other guests to see who he recognizes. But it darts back when Accelerator speaks again, keen on his answer.

Harold supposes he does count as a normal person by certain standards, and powerlessness is a state he's had to accept. He doesn't challenge this response, isn't looking for sympathy, and has long since taken action on his guilt over these lost opportunities, the numbers he couldn't save. That guilt will never be erased, but now it lives alongside a host of names that he and John have helped. Saved is too strong a word, it turns out, for what they do. Most people don't need saving. They just need a person in the right place at the right time, for one moment, and that's all. ]

You realize by saying that you've signed yourself up for explaining it.

[ Harold looks at him expectantly. ]

Don't keep me in suspense.

[Yeah, by bringing that up Accelerator knows what he's getting into. A few months ago he would have left off the whole 'strongest' prefix and just left it at 'an esper,' thinking people don't need to know any more than that. These days he's aware of the power his status holds, and grudgingly accepts the responsibilities that come with it.

Like being (mostly) upfront about who he is and what he can do.]

Esper. As in, ESP? It means I'm psychic. Like fucking Mifune Chizuko or.... [Give him a second, he's furrowing his brow as he comes up with another example that an American might know....] .... That movie by the famous author with the bloody high school dance scene?

[Carrie. He's thinking of Carrie. Having never actually seen it, he's only recalling it via cultural osmosis.]

My city is a haven for every kind of scientific research, but the original reason it was founded was for the research and development of artificial espers.

[ Harold knows a lot of obscure references, but Mifune Chizuko is not one of them. He immediately itches to search the term online and is equally immediately highly annoyed that he can't. He does understand the allusion to Carrie, at least. It takes him a whole mental twist to accept this tacit equation of psychics and scientific research -- it reminds him far too much of MKUltra -- but he pushes past it. ]

Artificial, as in-- induced?

[ Is he understanding that implication correctly? Because if he is, that makes Harold very alarmed. MKUltra indeed. ]

[Accelerator gives a short nod, affirming exactly what Harold is thinking. And lucky him, while the Power Curriculum Program isn't public knowledge (it'd be bad PR) Accelerator doesn't particularly care, so he goes on to explain.]

Yeah, as opposed to being naturally born that way. [Those kinds of espers exist, they're just rare.] Every student that registers with Academy City goes through the Power Curriculum Program. It's a series of medical procedures, from shit like hypnosis to electroshock, that alters your brain and body and causes you to split from normal reality.

[ Harold stares at him blankly for a long moment. He's heard a lot of things that horrify him since he's gotten here, chief among them the whole premise of them choosing which worlds to save -- as if that's a task anyone can accomplish -- but hearing this comes in at a close second. They do this to children?!

Fortunately for him, his brain has always operated on logic faster than feelings, and he draws an automatic conclusion before his horrified disgust catches up with him. ]

And this is what you're in charge of now?

[After giving that explanation Accelerator is going to go ahead and finish off his hors d'oeuvres. It's probably a good thing he doesn't have the full list of medical procedures on hand, because some of them are downright nasty.]

That's right. I'm responsible for nearly two million kids who've had their brains and bodies messed with so badly it's possible for their fucking delusions to become reality. Thankfully, that's only about forty percent of them, and even fewer have abilities strong enough to actually be dangerous.

[ Harold has a creative and cynical enough imagination to extrapolate from that bare description, and he already hates what he's imagining. Details are not necessary. ]

Two million?!

[ He finally hit his limit. ]

That's-- insane. Not to mention reprehensible. [ It just feels like that needs to be said out loud before he can go on. Harold reaches up to rub his eyes under his glasses. ]

So you're the strongest, which means everyone has to deal with you. Is that it?

[Accelerator doesn't visibly react to Harold's shock. It's a lot of kids, sure, but it's also perfectly normalized to send off your kids to Academy City. No one thinks of it as a death sentence, except maybe some of the people pawning off the Child Errors, who didn't want those kids to begin with.]

All the families who registered with their kids would disagree with you.

[Academy City's marketing department is very, very powerful.]

It means that any idiotic kid who wants clout, or to take over my spot as the top honour student, or any foreign organization or nation wants to destabilize the city or its esper program has to deal with me.

[Which is to say, he's spent about a third of his life having people either try to fight him or try to kill him.]

[ Harold brings his hands down and his expression wrinkles in disgruntlement. This whole conversation is starting to make his brain hurt. ]

You sound entirely too much like an organized crime boss I know. Except it's a school.

[ Comparing him to Elias is sort of a terrifying compliment. It speaks well of Accelerator that Harold doesn't think the resemblance is too strong -- there's just a common thread there in wrangling a city full of horrible criminals into behaving with some kind of order. ]

All right. What does being an esper mean? What kind of power are you talking about?

[ Might as well get into it at this point. ]

[Accelerator lets out a snort, the first sign of amusement coming from him since this conversation started.]

Technically, Academy City is made up of thousands of schools.

[He can't really argue about the mob boss thing, though being part of the mob would make his life a lot easier. The mob doesn't have to worry about working within the law.

Regarding his ability, he only gives a small shrug.]

I can manipulate vectors.

[ There's a pause as Harold squints at him and tries to parse this. Fortunately, he's already had a long talk with Krouse by this point as they traversed back from Nova City to the apartment block, so he's come to a personal reckoning with accepting supernatural powers.

Then: ]

You can manipulate anything with a magnitude and a direction? [ he asks in sheer disbelief. ] Is this standard?

[ This better be what makes Accelerator exceptionally powerful, and not just standard issue esper fare, or Harold is quitting his understanding of physics and reality and burying his head into Asimov until he forgets conventional laws. ]

[Look, Accelerator is just glad he doesn't have to explain what a vector is. He shakes his head.]

No, I'm the only one with the 'Accelerator' ability. [Part of the reason why he's the #1 Level 5.] Other abilities are shit like electromagnetism, telepathy, aerokinesis, that kind of thing. And only a couple of them come remotely close to what I can do.

[ Alright, well, that's something. Harold will take anything he can get at this point. Abilities aside, he immediately gets stuck on the implication of something else-- ]

That's your ability, but also your name? [ he asks in a tone of surprise. No wonder it was so odd, if that was the case. Harold isn't going to cast judgment, but he is... a little concerned. What he's learned already has been highly dehumanizing; identity based on ability seems horrific to him. ]

[Harold's surprise gets a small pause out of Accelerator, though he supposes it makes sense. Inside Academy City no one ever commented on it, but then... half the time no one called him 'Accelerator' anyways. 'The Strongest,' '#1,' and now 'Board Chairman' are all equally common.]

No, it's only the name of my ability. [Not his name-name, that would be silly. Who would name their kid Accelerator???] I just go by it instead of my real name.

[ This gets an even bigger frown. ]

I won't comment on leaving behind your real name, [ he answers, because Harold is self-aware enough not to want to be an immense hypocrite, thank you, ] but it doesn't seem right to call you by the name of your ability.

[ He would hate to be treated that way. ]

[Accelerator can't really argue that going by his ability is a good thing because it's powerful and unique, because he can't really say he likes his ability all that much.]

Well, half the time people are calling me other shit, like the #1, or 'the Strongest,' or Board Chairman. That is, if they're not going with a curse or whatever.

[So basically, people call him a whole lot of things except his actual name. He's long since gotten used to this, so he shrugs indifferently.]

It's all the same thing to me. Why's it matter?

[ Harold squints at him for a moment, then decides Accelerator communicates best with bluntness. ]

It's reductive. [ Better than saying dehumanizing, probably, though the tone behind his word choice is obvious. ] What is your name?

[ Because he's definitely going to use it, and he's actually annoyed he can't just hack into records and look it up like he usually would. Having to ask is novel and disagreeable. ]

[Reductive. It's a simple word, and Accelerator can pick up on the weight behind it. That's what has him going quiet for a few seconds at Harold's question, instead of telling him to just fuck off.

That's the easy answer. Putting up a wall over this, because it's something he's used to, and not caring if Harold gets offended or annoyed with him. Most people are, so it's whatever.

The thing is, though, Harold is right. Accelerator doesn't want to admit it, even to himself, but it is reductive. It's dehumanizing. Most people don't deserve that.

Whether he does or not, that's the sticking point with him. But it's enough that he refrains from cursing Harold out, instead giving him a long, level stare.]

I'm not that person anymore. [He settles for that, since it's true. He isn't that little kid anymore, he hasn't been for a long time.] Just stick to 'Accelerator.'

Most of us just pick a new name for ourselves when that happens, [ Harold says drolly, but with an obvious undercurrent of compassion. He knows he's pushing and isn't surprised to be rebuffed.

He also realizes this is him admitting he's using a fake name, but he hasn't used his real one in so long, using Finch is itself its own sort of concession. It's the realest one he has now. ]

Let me know if you decide on one, will you?

[That admittance is clicking instantly in Accelerator's head and his expression turns a bit surprised. 'Harold Finch' sounds like a pretty average name, but should he really be shocked by this new information when the guy has been cagey as hell about himself and works with a "field operative"?

He supposes he shouldn't be.

Frowning a little, that's enough to make him not outright dismiss the notion.]

.... Yeah, fine.

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( OPEN ) ALL HALLOW'S EVE FEAST

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