the return of the revenge of just rp it.

[musedactyl]

how to play.

1. Drop a comment with one or more of your muses. It can be empty if you want me to make a scenario, or you can toss one at me. Prompts are boss. (a word, song, lyric, picture, phrase, a meme prompt, anything). Specify if there's something you do or don't want, otherwise I could throw anything at you: AUs, shippiness, awfulness. You've been warned, son.
1b. If you want to continue a verse we started in another thread somewhere, specify it in the comment or subject line. I'd be down for revisiting any of those.

2. In the subject line, you can specify any of my muses you might want to play with (including OCs, who have their own list), or you can ask me to pick someone. No muses are off-limits except for those that have no icon uploaded on the list. Otherwise, I'll pick or randomize someone.
2b. Muses I would really love to play right now, in case you are having a hard time choosing: Hawke, Hannibal Lecter, Selina Kyle, Fox Mulder, Cigarette Smoking Man, Serafina, Pepper Potts, Lois Lane, Jacen Solo.

3. just rp with me. if something jives really well, maybe we can continue it in another one of these later, sort of like a super casual verse. if it doesn't, it doesn't.

Comments

[relevee]

[ her stomach leaps into her throat at the sight of the suitcase; she wrings out the rag that has been soaking in the cleaning solution a little tighter than she means to and the scent of vinegar seeps into everything, every crevice. she's on her knees scrubbing until the cloth and her hands are stained pink. in the dim lighting it could almost be as if she'd spilled a glass of wine on herself, struggling to wash it clean before it sets.

she can hear the sound of bones breaking - that sharp snap like someone stepping on sticks in the woods, sudden and unexpected, and she pauses to sit back on her heels. looks at one of her hands and holds it out in front of her. she can see the bones shifting underneath her skin. such strong things that hold the human body together - and yet, in an instant, can be broken.

she does not enter the neighboring room when she is finished, almost as if she can't bring herself to see the horror of it for herself. this is participation, but only to a point.

she scrubs her hands beneath the faucet until the water runs clear again. her robe is wet, the silk blotched and damp. she looks at her reflection in the mirror almost as if she is reluctant to see his face looking back at her. ]

[entrees]

[ it is intricate work, this origami grostesquerie of his, and he has donned one of his tailored plastic suits for the crafting of it, as a sculptor might don an apron. He turns away from his project only to go and fetch a rather specific saw from another room of the house. In so doing, he notices the sound of running water in the bathroom, moves to stand at the threshold, studying her as she struggles to examine herself in the reflection. After a moment, he speaks. ]

What do you see, Bedelia, now that your eyes are open?

[relevee]

[ he is somehow immaculate in this, polished even while he dismembers and handles limbs with care. there is an ironic intimacy in this, perhaps moreso than in the moment she had held a gun on him. the baring of the self holds more sensuality than the baring of the body. she suddenly feels as though she could just as easily be standing there naked, exposed.

she braces her hands against the edges of the sink and looks at him in the mirror. ]

A man that I never truly knew until this moment.

[entrees]

[ as it has long been in his company, her tremoring fear is balanced by a quiet resiliency, and hannibal allows himself a moment's rumination on how this is the enticing duality of her character, that which holds his interest, this creature of such fragility and such steel.

He, too, thinks of bones. And of breaking. ] You once said you saw enough to see to the truth of me. [ there's a certain cruelty in the reminder, and he waits for her flinch, curious if she will evince it. She'd also said, then, that she liked him, in spite of what she claimed to see about his true character. he waited for her to remember her own words, for them to taste bitter in her memory.

What did it say about her, that she had once claimed as much? ]

Is this not what you expected to find, beneath my human veil?

[relevee]

I do not know what I expected to find. I only had hints of what you hid under your person suit.

[ her gaze does not shift away from his; she only breaks it when she turns to face him directly instead of speaking to a reflection. there, confronted with the hard evidence of the truth, she finds her resolve.

she's holding the rag in one hand, limply resting at her side. she walks over to him leisurely as though exhausted by the events of the day. ]

You once helped me when I asked it of you. That too was a truth that I would not soon forget.

[entrees]

[ she chooses her words with such deliberate care, something he has always valued about her, particularly in this modern age, where what most call 'communication' has become increasingly mislabeled as such. It is part of her elegance, of her poise. While she is often frank with him, she is never truly candid, shrouding herself in ways that are in part a habit of her profession, but in other ways an essential characteristic of her personality. even now, he can sense the hidden meanings roiling beneath her words, finds excitement in the interplay.

Comparing the two situations she refers to is bold, given the motivations behind each. She is sweeping aside degrees of morality, or at least granting the appearance of placing a higher value on the dynamic of personal debt, or gratitude.

As she's said, Hannibal can appreciate even mere appearances, more than most. He lets her have them. ] I see.

My work with Mr. Dimmond will take some time. I think you have helped enough for this evening, Bedelia.

[relevee]

[ her relief is palpable at the reprieve he has issued her - permission, if not absolution, to remove herself of this participation into which she only slightly entered willingly. it is this sensation that ripples through her and floods her body with calm; she pauses to allow him a brief nod of acknowledgment, of appreciation at this release.

almost subconsciously, she draws the edges of her robe more securely around her body, tightening the knot at her waist. ]

Then, if you don't mind, I'll be in the bath.

[entrees]

[ he reads into the shift in her demeanor, although his eyes don't specifically drop to follow the movement of her hands at her waist, remaining on her face instead. he turns to cast his gaze across the room for a moment, before he steps back out of the door frame and into the hall. ] Very well.

[ the plastic suit makes the slightest whispering noise at the movement, a single droplet of blood sliding its way off from a previously creased ridge that shifted to set it free, skating further down his side, a macabre shiver of motion. ] Good night. [ he turns from her, with that deceptively benign well-wishing hanging in the air, after reaching out to close the door partially for her. ]