Look Past the Blood on Your Hands

[asoftermeme]

Look Past the Blood on Your Hands Red's in your ledger or you're making your way towards a crimson page by your very nature. Did you simply do what you had to do in order to survive? No one could understand how you lived. That could be just what you tell yourself, though; really, you might have enjoyed your crimes. You're not proud of some of what you've done, no matter what, and there's a part of you that will probably never heal. If you were someone else looking in, you'd never be able to stand looking at you, much less stomach you. But someone does all of that willingly. They can look past the blood on your hands and the bad decisions weighing on your shoulders. It's you they care about, not your history. Actually, they may even love you, though you can't begin to fathom why. Comment with your character, preferences, and whether your character is the one with guilt or past sins or the one looking past all that. Reply to others. Have fun.

Comments

hannibal lecter ♔ hannibal

[entrees]

[ definitely the monster in this equation.

You're not proud of some of what you've done, no matter what, and there's a part of you that will probably never heal.

lol

or not.

likely incapable of truly requiting the feelings in question, but hella great at faking it. ]

[manyteeth]

[ooc: From one cannibal character to another! At least Hannibal is polite about the whole thing!]


He was nothing but a man; and an ordinary one at that. Mileena reeled with confusion as to why her soothsayers and prophets had told her to watch this creature. His social tendencies, his fineness and manners; his daily routine. All of it pointed towards the mundane. How could this sliver of a human give her any insight into the lives of the common-folk on Earth.

Spying, surveying, watching, mental note taking. All of it had bored her to verge of tears. Enough waiting she told herself it was now time to act. To see why this particular man had garnered such attention back home.

Approaching this devil-in-man's-clothing's home came with great ease; no sentries stood guard, no beasts waiting in pursuit of her trespassing, Mileena wondered how any man or woman lived in this world without the threat of being killed.

Several scenarios ran through her head as she approached what seemed to be the main door to this man's home but rather than make some grand entrance she simply wanted to speak with this so-called harbinger of death.

She couldn't ignore the fine smell wafting from the ventilation as she knocked sharply on the door. "You, man! Open your door!" She hissed behind the veil covering her mouth "I wish to speak to you!"

[entrees]

[ hannibal continues to rue the day that calling ahead before social calls dropped out of the common practice of social etiquette. unexpected visitors, while certainly often a point of interest, tended to threaten to insult his sense of what might be considered polite behavior.

particularly when the visitor in question opened with such abrasive commands. and particularly when they interrupted dinner preparations.

hmm.

interesting, indeed.

he opens the door in a polished, immaculate suit, his expression just as carefully arranged as he takes in the ... uniquely attired woman standing on his threshold. ] Good evening.

[manyteeth]

Mileena had made zero effort to integrate into modern, human society. She wore the archaic and, yes, unique attire fashioned in her homeland. At a glance she would have looked like an out of place trick or treater had the season been more appropriate but on closer inspection there were elements of her appearance that seemed a little too awkward. She was far too old to be some prankster teenager and her cat-like eyes made her stranger still.

From her perspective this man, this fine sample as he had been referred to as, didn't seem to fit the mark. Under careful examination he seemed so well turned out and prim that she couldn't envision this man being capable of the rumours she had been relayed.

"You are the man they call Hannibal, are you not?" She shifted her weight to try and look past him, perhaps the true killer was kept indoors and this man was his keeper. She scanned his appearance once more, unconvinced "I would speak with you, in private. Will you accommodate me or has my journey here been for nothing?"

There was the hint of an expression under her mask, muscles tightening "I will offer you something for your time. Fortune is widely sought in this realm, is it not? Perhaps we can come to an agreement?"

[entrees]

[ her contempt and suspicion hardly require acute observation to mark, regardless of the mask that hides half her face. but that's hardly the most interesting thing about her appearance here on his doorstep.

he has no doubt that there's something dangerous about the woman. it's in her very bearing, clearer still in those unusual eyes.

but he's never shirked from the dangerous. in fact, that only makes him more inclined to step aside, and gesture for her to come in. ] That won't be necessary. Miss...?

[manyteeth]

A title? There was something quaint about this man that probably garnered him a little too much of Mileena's trust. She could not deny the charms of a gentleman, especially one with such a glowing reputation.

"Aren't you sweet," She practically purred her response, quite the change from the harsh barking she'd been doing at the door earlier "the very thought of me being a 'miss' just--" she searched for the word gesturing with her hand as if she was winding in a line "--endearing. You can just call me Mileena." Any regal titles would be lost on this man, he hardly knew her homeland's politics.

She walked with an exaggerated sway to her hips and passed him into the hallway. "How very shy you are, you haven't even confirmed your name with me yet. Or perhaps you're waiting for the right moment to reveal yourself? I do so love theatrics."

[entrees]

[ he closes the door behind her, gesturing further in and following her towards a sitting room, those swinging hips never seeming to draw his gaze ] And how very bold you are, to accept my invitation without any confirmation of my identity. [ the words could almost sound like a threat, but he seems darkly amused instead. ] Please. Have a seat.

[manyteeth]

"Bold?" She echoed incredulously and she wondered if that was truly the first word that came to this creature's mind or it that had been buffered through many, many layers of etiquette and charm. Regardless, she rather liked this gentleman's soft touch. Kind to cruel, or so her spies had told her, how utterly fascinating.

Mileena could not ignore the interior of his home (if it even was his) and how it had been decorated. "What a charming home," she chimed finding a seat in what appeared to be his living room. She sat down as if she owned the place; spine flush with the chair, arms extended along the back and legs crossed in front of her. "I just can't find pieces like this for back home, craftsmanship is shocking where I come from." Small talk, idle chatter, she wanted to test the waters before she did or said something too revealing. "Don't suppose I could bother you for something to eat, could I? I am famished. And I heard that you are just--" she lazily rolled her hand at the wrist as if dusting for the word "--an artist with your food."

[entrees]

[ it's impossible to miss the implications there. his face remains an unreadable mask as he regards her, weighing whether this is truly informed baiting or something more innocent.

he has a difficult time believing such an unusual woman truly traveled here out of an appreciation for finely prepared cuisine, however. ] I was preparing something when you arrived. I was not expecting company, but I wouldn't be opposed to making my own a lighter course.

[manyteeth]

Mileena rather enjoyed being waited on and if this gentleman was so willing to oblige her who was she to argue with her host. "Wonderful, I don't suppose you want me assisting you, do you? Wouldn't want to spoil your craftsmanship."

[entrees]

I would not impose on a guest in such a manner. So long as you do not mind observing as I finish what I have started.