sating | week one - after investigation

[ While many people are off hunting for the other girl, Hannibal is being slightly more reserved in how he's approaching things. He's being careful, since he's still learning peoples' limits and expectations here. It was hardly strange for him to be unnerved in the face of gore and brutality when occasionally consulting with the FBI. He still has to learn what people expect of him here, though so far, he's expecting a cool demeanor will go unnoticed. He's not the only one to seem quite accustomed to death.

He's heading to towards the graveyard out of curiosity to see what may be there, but as he approaches, he sees Elizabeth leaving. Hannibal pauses and looks between the graveyard and the girl, but it only takes a moment before he decides to follow.

He steps after her quickly to catch up, but when he calls out, his voice is calm, but steady. There's not a tone of leisure in his voice, but it's hardly distressed. ]

Elizabeth— [ He says her name to catch her attention first, but his voice softens once he has it ] Did you find anything?

[ He's business first before getting to more emotional questions, but surely those will come. He only needs a moment to see how she's doing. ]

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[ LOOK... He just needs to keep tabs on his murder husband leave him alone ]

[ His expression softens in sympathy, since feeling helpless is a reaction that he expects. He imagines that many feel the same way, and have ever since the reality of their situation had started to sink in. He doesn't, but Hannibal hardly counts as anything near normal. ]

And what could help you?

[This has been one of the most unsettling things to Elizabeth since arriving; the absence of tears completely. Sometimes they wouldn't show up as frequently as others, but they had a penchant for appearing whenever she was stressed or anxious, and that's something she'd been in spades. So where were they? Did walking through do something? They couldn't just not be a part of this world, right? If there was an entrance then an exit must exist too.]

It's hard to explain without an example, but back where I came from, I could do this...trick, that's the best wording for it, where I would find an opening in the world and open it to another one. Sometimes if it was interesting I could bring things through, and the last time I went through myself, but here they've been completely absent.

[ Hannibal listens, giving her serious consideration as she explains, but in truth, he doesn't understand. Not really, because how could he? ~~he's not anime enough for this~~ He's from a world far more "normal," the kind of mundane where the existence of something like that is restricted to fantasy alone.

But it presents a strange question for him. He met Ezio and could easily accept (or at least brush away the logic of 'how') meeting an Italian man contemporary to Machiavelli. He's met others that seem to be from other times as well, but as people talk about healing, about powers, he's faced with an odd question there. Is it real, or is it what he naturally gravitates towards as an explanation—delusion? ]

I apologize, but I think I'm caught on the basic part of your explanation here.

[ He cants his head lightly, but his expression is appropriately apologetic. ]

An opening in the world? That sounds like more than a trick.

[ELizabeth laughs to herself as she realizes how she must sound. It's easy to forget.]

I'm sorry, you must think me delusional.

When you've had an ability all your life it tends to seem mundane... Though shortly before I arrived here I was beginning to learn it was anything but. Still- old habits.

[ He shakes his head lightly, giving a little white lie with it ]

No, not delusional. Simply seeking to understand. I'm not so proud as to think that there is nothing beyond my understanding.

[ Hannibal gestures lightly with his hand in a way that's just encouraging her to continue. ]

We all have our own definitions and ideas of normalcy. I'm sure that my own daily habits might sound strange to you. [ :) ] But I'd like to understand what makes your "normal."

[:)]

I'll try my best.

[As she talks she fiddles with her thimble, it's a nervous habit, but it centers her when she feels most uneasy.]

Ever since I was a little girl, I had my ability, the one to open worlds. When I was a child I remember being able to have more control over it, create the gap for windows to be opened, a "tear." But as I got older, I'd have to search for these openings, it became like looking for loose seams.

It was- is- a part of me, like breathing or eating. I didn't realize what an anomaly I was till I left my tower and found they had been watching me like some sick experiment.

[Though she had started her explanation calm and almost clinical in her tone, her voice takes on a bitter edge here as she remembers what she was to the people-to her father- who kept her locked away from the world.]

[ It truly is something beyond his imagining even as she explains in more detail. Hannibal always prided himself on being able to think abstractly and in great detail, but in this, he finds himself surprisingly at a loss. Her comparison to seams in fabric gives it some grounding, but then again, it sounds thoroughly impossible. A tear is a fitting word, but to think of it being ascribed to reality itself is... Well, he's not sure. ]

That is... I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm not the one that should be saying so, but all the same, I am sorry that this has happened to you.

[ But that part, the emotion? He can speak to that. His voice is soft, and there's a touch of sympathy there that might be more genuine than others, but those moments are blended seamlessly with the ones that aren't. It sounds no different, and he gives no indication that it's there. But it's also not clear what he's referring to. It could be the fact that she's lost a part of herself, or it could be for her being trapped in the first place. ]

[She takes it as the latter. After all, she doesn't want to believe that her ability is gone, more that there's something about this place blocking it, she just has to figure out what.]

Thank you. I'm fine so long as those who kept me locked away don't find me again, but I've seen the posters.

Then I sincerely hope they do not. Freedom is a valuable thing. I hope that you can hang onto it.

[ Says the man that just had his murder husband break him out of prison, but. No one knows that. No one needs to know that. He links his hands behind his back, looking ahead towards the lake as they approach. ]

Is that what would wait for you beyond this town? Or are you dreaming of Paris?

[She smiles a real smile for the first time since they began their walk. Paris reminds her and remains what it's always been: a symbol of hope.]

That's the dream, isn't it?

When I first escaped I thought we were set to go there...

[And here her smile falters]

But it was a lie, just like everything else.

[ He watches her this time as she speaks, still polite, but there's curiosity there. He sees the flicker of warmth before it's quickly snuffed out by her own experiences, and he thinks he can see a piece of her in that. It's almost like the fairytale of the girl locked in the tower, since she had even called it that herself. But he can see reality in that faltering of her smile. Bitterness.

He wonders, briefly, if it was more than that. Or if it could be. ]

From what you've said, it seems like lies tend to come to you frequently. I take it is is because of your- [ He pauses, since the word is still odd in this context ] Your tears? People do not often lie without reason. But it seems as if those reasons comes at your personal expense.

week one - after investigation

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