H. Lecter. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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etrayalogs2024-10-31 12:25 am
relished) wrote in etrayalogs2024-10-31 12:25 am
( 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. )
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. )
no subject
[ Vincent chimes in return with a smile - a little wider than before. Small smiles are well and good for him; he can manage small smiles. Little grins that barely disrupt his face. But smiling itself doesn't suit him; it seems like his expression is best looking dour, thoughtful, or occasionally sympathetic. Smiles and grin warp his face to something ghoulish, like he isn't sure how his mouth is supposed to curve. ]
Sure, I don't mind.
[ He really is a hypocrite. Here he told Heather not to talk too much about their world and he ends up talking. If she finds out about it, he doesn't want to think of how smug she'll look; or maybe she won't. Who's to say? She's a bit of a wildcard.
His eyes close and he sighs as tries to think of how to put this in words that don't sound insane. ]
Humans are only meant to have one life. No continues, as the saying goes. [ His shoulders bounce in a shrug. ] Resurrection is ... [ In certain cases, it is because divinity wants to be protected verses caring about the vessel itself. He shakes his head as he decides he can't say that part. ] ... a means to force a person to complete the task in front of them versus allowing them to rest even if they've failed.
no subject
I guess that assumes that people want to let their tasks go.
[ He shouldn't be doing this. It doesn't matter what some stranger at a dinner party thinks. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about it at all.
The issue is the timing. He has too many loose threads picked out of an idea, and Vincent happened to snag one and tug. ]
Seems pretty uncompromising, as a philosophy. I mean, that almost sounds more like a convenient way to answer the question of 'why don't we bring more people back' without actually having to answer it, if we're talking about resurrection being possible.
What's so bad about second chances?
no subject
[ His tone of voice shifts to something sympathetic. Not that he knows anything that is going on with Krouse, but rather just trying to sound reasonable as he explains the reasons why death is much preferred to carrying on. ]
Resurrection isn't a -- [ He rolls his eyes along the ceiling, thinking about the right turn of phrase. ] -- compromising deal. You're either in or you're out. If you're in, you're in. You're not allowed to tap out anymore. It's not about second chances... it is about carrying on until it is done.
[ He drops his gaze back down to look at his face. ] As a philosophy, it's telling you to do everything you can and want while you can. Be happy with what you can do and let go of what you can't. [ A beat. ] And I think that's a good way to live, don't you, Krouse?
no subject
It's because he knows Vincent is right. It's a good way to live. Saner, safer, easier. Probably the only rational way to live, instead of refusing to accept the hard barrier of 'can't' for the reality it is. ]
How do you know what you can't do unless you try it, though? That's always been my issue with that line of thinking. Doesn't it strike you as a little defeatist?
[ There's a tang like ozone on defeatist, the sizzling aftershock of a lightning strike. He's never been a quitter. A lot of other things, but not that. ]
I guess it depends on whether or not you think being happy is the most important thing a person can do with their life. If you don't try, you don't fail, you don't feel bad about it. I can see that.
[ He knows he's being a fucking dick right now. Once upon a time, that wouldn't have kept him from talking. But - he takes a breath, his eyes creasing at the corners in a faint wince. ]
...I can see it. [ He says, quieter. ] It sounds like it's easier than what I grew up around. More humane. I don't think crosses and Easter God is really about the 'you're good as you are' thing when you scratch the paint.
no subject
[ A phrase that should have been said cheerfully and teasingly; it comes out with a little more venom than necessary. If he could have done things with his own hands, he would have, but he couldn't.
He pauses to scratch the inside of his ear. The room, for a second, became the two of them. He would have said something truly cruel; however, the movement of others outside of his line of vision reminds him that he is not having a private conversation. He's just having a quiet chat with milling people around.
Rubbing underneath his nose, he breathes out -- and resets. ]
However, I do believe happiness is the most important thing a person should do with their life. Too many people live unhappily for their goals and I don't see the reason for it. Honestly, it seems like people forget what happiness is and don't know how to even achieve it for themselves anymore.
[ A lunatic would say that is why people need God, but he isn't a lunatic. ]
No, religion is different than that, I'm afraid. It's mostly rituals and veneration that need to be carried out... but the results are always pleasing. At least, to me.
no subject
He likes making people react. Watching Vincent do something like Krouse is - sliding the live, sharp edge of a different response back into the metaphorical sleeve - kind of makes him start to respect the guy in some minorly fucked up way he's not going to dwell on. Vincent's letting Krouse get away with it, not just being some smiling pious pushover. ]
As long as it makes you happy.
[ It's almost a joke, almost another little dig, mostly a concession. If the hippie religion Vincent follows (Krouse is picturing beaded curtains and lava lamps in dens with books that feature psychedelic art on the covers, as a vibe) gets him by, this is one of those 'live and let wish he wasn't forcibly resurrected' type situations. ]
That's probably enough theology for today, though, huh? Not the kind of thing that goes well with canapes.
Thank you for indulging me anyway. I hope you won't hold it against me.
[ Krouse would, so he's not especially attached to the request. The point is setting up the opportunity for the polite lie. ]
no subject
[ His chin drops down in a quick, little nod. ]
You're welcome. And, why should I?
[ He cocks his head in the opposite direction. A snide comment burns in the back of his throat; he thinks he could get away with it but it may start an argument. His pettiness and constant vigilance that he's around people fight with one another.
Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he prevents himself from saying what he wants. Something along the lines how he should forgive ignorance. His eyes lose what little warmth is left in them before he offers a slight smile. ]
I won't keep you from your waitering, either.
[ Snatching another piece of meat off the tray, Vincent turns to leave. He thinks there might be blood in his mouth. He muses over how that'll affect the taste of the food he's shoving in there, but ultimately, his irritation makes it so it tastes like nothing. ]