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glumshoe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-05-18 02:29 pm
glumshoe) wrote in entrancelogs2014-05-18 02:29 pm
[ closed ] Will catch-all. Conceal, don't feel~
Who: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter (NBC), Abigail Hobbs, Frederick Chilton
Where: The Gardens, Will Graham's room, Frederick Chilton's room
When: May 17th-19th
Rating: R for talk about violence, possible graphic imagery, & nonconsensual use of drugs (thanks Frederick). rating will escalate as needed.
Summary: The pains of harboring a dual nature. The event takes a toll on our unstable hero, who slowly shifts from the gentler side of the cravings spectrum to the other. Hannibal encourages Will to make like Elsa and -
The Story:
Day 1: afternoon The Gardens
[ Sometime after Evelyn leaves and Will is... freshened up, his nerves settle enough better gain a foothold over his cravings, at least temporarily. He sits on the bed for some time, hair drying into messy curls, breathing slow and feeling his heart stutter its pulse from the deepest core to furthest edge of his body like an engine whose parts he couldn't fix fully, but it limps along anyway.
It wasn't enough. He likes Evelyn, but he isn't so viscerally attached that the brief connection they share could replace the ones violently hacked off where he came from. Neither could he have expected her to. This event's curse forced the issue and then punished for not reaching far enough. The craving for closeness would go unslaked, put into remission and then come back stronger unless he does more or satisfies another hunger altogether.
Will rocks onto stiff legs and clicks his tongue at his pets, holding the door open for them to file out into the hall.
Meaningful history. It was worth a shot to see if the cravings could be put to rest, and since she came, Abigail has rarely left his thoughts. Their contact has been few and far between, and Will has to swallow the suspicion that Hannibal has resumed his influence over her as though he'd never led her to the slaughter.
At the gardens, Will spends all of a few agitated minutes halfheartedly playing with the dogs until he pulls out the device to do what he's wanted to since waking up today. ]
To Abigail Hobbs:
Hey. Just wanted to check in on you.
This is your first event, and you've probably noticed, but things can get hectic in pretty short order. If you need anything, I'm around the gardens with the dogs and piglet.
-Will
Day 3: morning Will's Room
[ Will takes stock of the past several days with chilling detachment. Sam Winchester, then Hannibal Lecter the younger, both subject to the urge that the event has done nothing but mount, brick upon brick upon brick of a building that deserves demolition. With any luck, his Hannibal Lecter will one day be crushed inside.
There's no one more knowledgable on the subject. Perhaps it's fitting that it would die with Hannibal.
Until then, with his own efforts at harnessing his own fury unsuccessful, insight may be needed. Will finds his communicator, dialing Hannibal's code in while his other hand hangs limply off the bed, ignoring the tentative doggie licks at his fingertips. ]
Memory serves that I am not required to report violent thoughts to my psychiatrist, but it is strongly encouraged in order to receive effective treatment. [ Will pauses, the crackle of a single deep breath audible over the line. ] I've been having violent thoughts.
Day 3: evening Chilton's Room
[ Will doesn't know why he's here. He has to assume that an increasing will to commit violence has to, at a point, culminate in someone actually being pummeled and if Hannibal Lecter was not to be the subject of this particular expression, it would have to be Frederick Chilton.
He's ignoring the part where Chilton had sent him a text message to meet him here. Bending to his wishes under Will's (mostly) uncompromised autonomy seemed the worst kind of betrayal to himself, but Will's inability to suppress his curiosity wouldn't leave him alone, wondering about what Frederick's intent was in claiming he'd helped recover his memories. Aside from attempting to manipulate Will into trusting him
Pressing his lips together, Will raps on the door with possibly less enthusiasm than would be needed to reach the furthest corners of the chambers. In the event that Will has a viable excuse to get out of this. ]
Where: The Gardens, Will Graham's room, Frederick Chilton's room
When: May 17th-19th
Rating: R for talk about violence, possible graphic imagery, & nonconsensual use of drugs (thanks Frederick). rating will escalate as needed.
Summary: The pains of harboring a dual nature. The event takes a toll on our unstable hero, who slowly shifts from the gentler side of the cravings spectrum to the other. Hannibal encourages Will to make like Elsa and -
The Story:
Day 1: afternoon The Gardens
[ Sometime after Evelyn leaves and Will is... freshened up, his nerves settle enough better gain a foothold over his cravings, at least temporarily. He sits on the bed for some time, hair drying into messy curls, breathing slow and feeling his heart stutter its pulse from the deepest core to furthest edge of his body like an engine whose parts he couldn't fix fully, but it limps along anyway.
It wasn't enough. He likes Evelyn, but he isn't so viscerally attached that the brief connection they share could replace the ones violently hacked off where he came from. Neither could he have expected her to. This event's curse forced the issue and then punished for not reaching far enough. The craving for closeness would go unslaked, put into remission and then come back stronger unless he does more or satisfies another hunger altogether.
Will rocks onto stiff legs and clicks his tongue at his pets, holding the door open for them to file out into the hall.
Meaningful history. It was worth a shot to see if the cravings could be put to rest, and since she came, Abigail has rarely left his thoughts. Their contact has been few and far between, and Will has to swallow the suspicion that Hannibal has resumed his influence over her as though he'd never led her to the slaughter.
At the gardens, Will spends all of a few agitated minutes halfheartedly playing with the dogs until he pulls out the device to do what he's wanted to since waking up today. ]
To Abigail Hobbs:
Hey. Just wanted to check in on you.
This is your first event, and you've probably noticed, but things can get hectic in pretty short order. If you need anything, I'm around the gardens with the dogs and piglet.
-Will
Day 3: morning Will's Room
[ Will takes stock of the past several days with chilling detachment. Sam Winchester, then Hannibal Lecter the younger, both subject to the urge that the event has done nothing but mount, brick upon brick upon brick of a building that deserves demolition. With any luck, his Hannibal Lecter will one day be crushed inside.
There's no one more knowledgable on the subject. Perhaps it's fitting that it would die with Hannibal.
Until then, with his own efforts at harnessing his own fury unsuccessful, insight may be needed. Will finds his communicator, dialing Hannibal's code in while his other hand hangs limply off the bed, ignoring the tentative doggie licks at his fingertips. ]
Memory serves that I am not required to report violent thoughts to my psychiatrist, but it is strongly encouraged in order to receive effective treatment. [ Will pauses, the crackle of a single deep breath audible over the line. ] I've been having violent thoughts.
Day 3: evening Chilton's Room
[ Will doesn't know why he's here. He has to assume that an increasing will to commit violence has to, at a point, culminate in someone actually being pummeled and if Hannibal Lecter was not to be the subject of this particular expression, it would have to be Frederick Chilton.
He's ignoring the part where Chilton had sent him a text message to meet him here. Bending to his wishes under Will's (mostly) uncompromised autonomy seemed the worst kind of betrayal to himself, but Will's inability to suppress his curiosity wouldn't leave him alone, wondering about what Frederick's intent was in claiming he'd helped recover his memories. Aside from attempting to manipulate Will into trusting him
Pressing his lips together, Will raps on the door with possibly less enthusiasm than would be needed to reach the furthest corners of the chambers. In the event that Will has a viable excuse to get out of this. ]
no subject
He's well aware that they are right in the middle of an--event, as it were. And he has noticed, at least, in himself, as well as others actions over the feed, that emotions and wants have quickly escalated into needs. And what Frederick Chilton needs is to prove himself.
This is a thing he's always wanted, of course. Recognition. Validation. He knows he's not the most well liked, but he doesn't want to be liked, he wants to be respected.
And he tries to push those feelings aside, because the acclaim he desires isn't possible to obtain in Wonderland, not when the only other psychiatrist is Hannibal the Cannibal. And while he might have wished to have the prestige Hannibal has, those feelings of jealousy died away when Hannibal Lecter became synonymous with The Chesapeake Ripper.
But he can't rid himself of those feelings for long, and as soon as a plausible idea hits him, he wastes no time in texting Will Graham. Because, not only can he prove himself by getting Will's memories back, but also because the more Will Graham knows of what was done to him by Hannibal, the quicker Hannibal Lecter might be caught.
And so, while he waits for Will to arrive, he sets up. And when Will knocks on the door, he's quick to answer, grin wide on his face and oozing smarm.
"Ah, Will. Please," he opens the door wider, gesturing for Will to come inside. What could possibly go wrong?
no subject
"Frederick," he says as he steps in, both an acknowledgement of their enmity and a reminder that Will can now call him that and get away with it.
His wariness precedes him, armed with the knowledge that this is an event and things have already gotten well out of hand before Chilton had decided to include Will on his to-do list. Inside, Will doesn't roam far, intending this to be as short a visit as can be managed without the benefit of a door to be slammed this time.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" In so few syllables, it's difficult to convey the positively toxic levels of sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
no subject
"Please, have a seat." He gestures towards a table and two chairs. Near one of the chairs is a separate table with coffee and tea station Chilton has set up prior to Will Graham arriving, full of lemons, honey, sugar, and creamer. Chilton, personally, drinks tea, but he was uncertain as to what Will Graham drinks and decided it was prudent to provide options.
Chilton's chair has been claimed already, his cane leaning against the chair furthest away from the tea and coffee station, leaving Will the only option of sitting closest to whatever Chilton might have in store.
He closes the door behind Will, following the other man to the tables. "I have something I wanted to discuss with you. On the subject of Hannibal Lecter." It is not, technically speaking, a lie. After all, the less he gives away to Will, the better.
no subject
Fortunately for these plans of Chilton's, the threat classification Will has funneled him into is one of Conditional Efficacy - that, removed from his context of head of BSHCI (and very probably also including Chilton's abysmal track record as a surgeon), the level of damage that he is capable of inflicting on Will is limited in the extreme.
This explains the pointed look Will offers over the tray, because really. He's not believably inept enough to consider this a subtle move, he gives him that much credit. Maybe it's this and nothing else that sees Will pouring a cup of black coffee and taking the remaining chair with the air of someone who's trying very hard not to laugh.
"Probably for the best, I'm fresh out of doors to slam." Hm, the coffee's actually pretty decent. He's used to burnt but strong police sludge or Quantico's famous pay-double-for-half broken vendors, but he should've known Frederick's proclivities enforced some standards. Oddly grateful for a small mercy, Will stays and unconsciously crosses his legs to mirror the doctor's.
"I'm listening."