hadriel_logs | Event Log: Bad End

Entry tags:

Event Log: Bad End

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Bad End event
Where: All over the city!
When: August 23rd-September 5th
Warnings: Bad futures, awkward conversations, smashed mirrors

You wake up to find a mirror at your bedside - a pretty nice one, too, a silver hand mirror perfect for fixing your hair in. Only when you try to do that, it's not your gorgeous reflection that you see. It's something else - a terrible future, just about as bad as anything you could imagine for yourself.

Maybe you see your loved ones dead on the ground, and you know it's your fault. Maybe you see the goal you've been working so hard for pulled out of your reach forever. Maybe you see someone you've hurt in the past ruining your life. Maybe you see your hot girlfriend leaving you to shack up with your worst enemy. Whatever you see, it really sucks, and you know that it's possible. This future could happen if you make the wrong choices, give in to your worst impulses.

Break the mirror if you want, but you'll see the same vision in any reflective surface in the city. You can't break them all, but you can sure try. And what will you do when you see your best friend's vision - and it features you betraying them?

Seek reassurance, give reassurance, lash out, vow to yourself that you'll never let it turn out that way, sink into the depths of sorrow because you feel like the future you see is inevitable. Whatever you do, it won't take away those visions - not until the event is over.

► This log covers August 23rd-September 5th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you can't handle the idea of your dark future, or maybe you just accidentally slip and fall on a mirror shard, let us know here.

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One must be very observant to be able to tell if a wild animal is sick or injured. It benefits not such a creature to allow visible signs of unwellness, as when enemies, either predators or, for the predators, those of one's own kind, see those signs they will take advantage.

So it takes a careful, practiced and familiar eye to notice that Hannibal is off. A little more quiet than usual. A little slower than usual. Slightly more pale. When he is going about his day, either in the apartment he shares with Will and Abigail or out and about in Hadriel, most people might see nothing amiss, but a sharp observer would notice that Hannibal is not looking at any reflective surfaces.

He has already seen the vision, Will dead and himself being dragged off in chains, and wishes not to see it again. Still, he cannot expunge it from his mind, and his silence, his slowness, is the result of that, of pondering the meaning of what he has seen, what string of actions might lead to it, how it might be avoided...and why it is that his heart aches more to see his dear friend dead than himself shackled.

Observant was an understatement when it came to Will. Every fiber of his body felt out, like roots growing in the underground or water meandering its way from a river back into the sea. Often his body was a vessel, slowly filling with feelings, sensations, and knowledge before his mind was ready to come to a conclusion. He'd been watching Hannibal, seen the slight strangeness in his actions, demeanor, his aura even and just as predicted, the predator in him was already following Hannibal's obscure scent.

For a while, he followed him. Through the City, aware that, had this been under normal circumstances, there was no way that Hannibal wouldn't have realized he was being followed. Just more clarification that something was amiss.

Will was intelligent. He knew what this City was capable, heck, he'd fallen prey to its whims and torment ample times to know that Hannibal was possibly under some kind of ruse. Shaking off the image he's seen in the small mirror beside his bed when he woke, in fact... That was Will's original motive behind following his dear friend today- but that's another story entirely, right now? Now, Will was curious as to what had spooked this otherwise infallible beast.

"Have you been eating plenty greens?" His cold, rasp of a voice called out as Will stepped from the blanket of shadows he'd been walking in. No longer able to simply spy and ponder. His curiosity got the better of him. "You look a little pale."

That Hannibal had been sufficiently distracted that he had not noticed someone following him was indeed a sign of exactly how off he was. That it was Will mitigated it somewhat, since the younger man was both skilled in surveillance and particularly knowledgeable about Hannibal's blind spots. Still, when Hannibal turned toward his friend's voice it was with a slight sigh of resignation. He gave Will a mild smile and raised his eyebrows.

"Do I? As far as I am aware, my diet has not changed significantly." He moved toward the younger man so that they could speak more quietly, intimately.

"How long have you been following me?"

As Hannibal moved in closer, so too did Will. His own brow raised and with a slight tilt of his head, Will moved to look around, pulling a face with his lips and jaw. "Following you, Hannibal?" A pause as he mulled over the first few thoughts that burst into his head. "I've been following you for some time now." The answer he gave went a little deeper than he had intended, Hannibal could assume its meaning however he liked.

Taking a step forward, Will came toe to toe with his dear friend. Raising a hand, placing it softly against Hannibal's forehead. "You should be more careful. I shouldn't have to tell you... We should go back inside." Nodding his head as he spoke, letting his palm linger for a moment before pulling away.

That answer, a reminder of their deep relationship, their shared history, drew a faint smile from Hannibal. That touch to his forehead was curious, though, and he tilted his head, the smile fading. His forehead was cool, with no noticeable fever.

"I'm in no danger, Will," he said, both to reassure and to protest. "But if you are requesting my presence at home I would of course be happy to acquiesce."

"You've been walking downwind of me this whole entire time and didn't even hint that you were aware of my presence." His brow furrowed at that. Looking between Hannibal's rich, deep almond eyes, trying to get a read of what must have unsettled Hannibal enough for him to lose his awareness.

Will has, by now, assumed this was something to do with those little mirrors people were noticing in their homes here. Will had a little mirror of his own. One he couldn't bear to smash. It was near addiction for him, looking into the glass and seeing the altered images that could be so true and real. It was painful, but he endured. He continued as normal. What was truly unsettling for Will, was seeing Hannibal in a mild form of something resembling vulnerable.

"That depends on what you've seen." He took a moment before continuing. Looking through the corner of his eye, for any shiny surface near them. "If anyone else has seen it too." There was no harm in being cautious after all. "And yes. I'd like you to come home with me, Hannibal."

Hannibal had not been looking at reflective surfaces after seeing what he had seen in the hand mirror in the other surfaces at home, and even outside. He didn't need to see it again to ponder every detail. But he had assumed that what he had seen could only be seen by him. Will's words, however, introduced the idea that perhaps he was wrong, and what he thought was a god-induced hallucination was actually something more public.

There was a window nearby. Hannibal turned his head, and saw again the image of Will shot dead and himself being dragged away.

"Can you see?" he murmured, shifting his eyes to see what Will's reflection held.

"I can see..." Will muttered, his voice just above a whisper. Of all the things he assumed would torment and haunt Hannibal, his death wasn't one of them. Will had always assumed that Hannibal's end goal would, in fact, be his death at his dear friend's dinner table. This? This looked pointless. Will was just dead and Hannibal in cuffs?

As he pondered over the events that unfolded in the reflective surface of the window, Will's own vision started to blur in and out of it too, fragmented and broken, fitting for their own merging and blurring. Looking away quickly, with hopes that Hannibal hadn't seen enough to figure out what was haunting Will.

"Not what I was expecting." Turning to face his dear friend, a very slight and curious smile pulled over his lips.

Hannibal turned to Will, raising his eyebrows slightly, his friend's reluctance to allow Hannibal to see his vision not escaping his notice. Interesting, that in this case Hannibal was the more transparent of the two.

"What were you expecting, Will?"

It was unfair to deprive Hannibal the same transparency and honesty that Will was being granted and for a moment, Will didn't seem to show any sign of returning the visions. However, when asked what he was expecting, a heaviness hooked into his heart, making it sink lower in his chest. The thought that Hannibal's worst possible end, was a life where he was locked away for life, and Will dead, killed so simply.

He swallowed, licked his lips, wetting them before he spoke. "Something less to do with me, I guess..." Turning his eyes to set upon the reflective surface, granting his dear friend the privilege to see his own worst ending. Although it was only a visual curse, Will was certain Hannibal would remember the exchange of words, as Will's own horror, was, in fact, a memory, a moment they both shared some time ago.

[George has just seen herself staying eighteen years old forever, never reaching her quota of souls to be taken, watching her parents and eventually her little sister grow old and wither and die in front of her and she was helpless to comfort them or be there for them in their old age.

she just went on, ageless, all of the other Reapers she knew meeting their quotas and moving on and being surrounded by strangers so she didn't even have the small comfort of people she knew being there for her.

it never ended. murders. suicides. accidents. death. everyone but her getting getting their sparkly lights and moving on to the afterlife. everyone but George. there's no way out. there's no relief. all there is is death.

after seeing this in the mirror, George shrieked and left the house, looking for something, anything to bring some relief. she almost literally runs into Hannibal because she's been looking at the ground--the ground isn't reflective]

--oh! Hey. [trying to summon normalcy] Sorry I missed our appointment. Stuff--happened.

Every time Abigail passes by a mirror, she stops and looks, transfixed by the visions in the reflection. It's enough to make her heart speed in her chest and send her stomach churning. Adding to the torment, she finds herself constantly fighting the urge to look at Hannibal or Will's visions. They'd be too personal and she fears how terrifying an image would have to be, to bother Hannibal. She could tell something had been on his mind, a sort of daughter's intuition. She lacks the perfect, soothing words to offer to comfort him as he's so often done for her and it makes her feel guilty. She's also concerned enough to try to help.

She walks over to him and gently places her hand on his arm. "We could cover them up. The mirrors and anything else that needs to be hidden." She suggests. She know he's been better at avoiding them then she has, but they're still there. The threat of even accidentally seeing those sights is constant. "Or do you, um, want to talk about what you saw?"

Hannibal had not been aware that he was noticeably shaken, which was in and of itself distressing for the man who typically had exceptional self-awareness. He answers Abigail's concerned look and touch with an easy, reassuring smile.

"Merely something that the gods believe will upset me," he answers, lifting his own hand to cup Abigail's elbow in his own comforting gesture. "It is of little consequence." Which is, like many things Hannibal says, a lie couched in absolute truth. "But yes, covering the mirrors may be for the best for all of us. And if you wish to talk about what you saw, I am of course here at your disposal."

Abigail feels a certain relief that he didn't tell her. There's enough ugliness in her mind already and too much fear for what she's seen. She looks into his eyes, finding a tiny bit of hope for her future in his smile. "So you don't think the stuff in the mirrors will come true?" She asks quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. "It doesn't have to end like that?"

She glances down at the ground. "And you wouldn't be disappointed in me for the things I saw?"

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, a tender gesture. "I do not believe that we are fated to see our visions come to pass, no," he assures her. "And whatever the gods are showing you through these mirrors does not change who you are, or your relationship with Will or myself."

His words are once again a meld of true and useful, seeking to assure her so that she will reveal what very well might be information Hannibal can later use in his manipulations.

Abigail gives him a tiny, quick smile of appreciation for his comforting words. "I see myself in prison when I look the mirrors." She looks down at the ground. She's convinced that for her to end up in jail, something awful would have had to have happened to both Hannibal and Will and she'd never see them again.

"I see myself walking up alone in a prison cell, shaking like I just had a horrible nightmare. And then I take a shiv and cut my own throat." She feels such guilt. Everything she'd done to keep herself alive with her father and everything Hannibal and Will had done for her had all been wasted by her act. For a trick of the gods, it seems very real to her.

Hannibal nods solemnly, appreciating the gravity of the vision, the reality of the fear. It was one that had served him well in his work with Abigail, his design, as Will would say.

"I will never let that happen," he answers, in one sentence confirming both the possibility of imprisonment, and his role as her sole salvation.

Abigail looks up at him again slowly. "But that's part of it. If I'm in prison, then something's bad happened to you too. You'd be in prison too or worse." She can't speak the words that he could be dead and can't even imagine that he'd abandon her, not when she's come to depend on him so deeply. "It'd mean I failed you somehow."

The poor girl. So uncertain of herself. When Hannibal had yet planned to start a whole new life with Abigail and Will, he had envisioned her transformation as a predator, coming into her own. Perhaps it's time to work toward that end once more.

For now, though, he pulls her into an embrace, stroking her hair soothingly. "I won't let that happen, either. You may have faith in me, just as I have faith in you."

Abigail hugs him back tightly. "I do have faith in you." She's come to depend on him completely. Will and he are the only people she trusts now.

"It just feels so real when I see it." If it wasn't for them, she would have smashed the mirrors until her hands bleed. "I never want to be that alone. I don't want you to be alone either." Very people will understand him in that way that she does.

He closes his eyes as he continues stroking her hair. When Will betrayed him, betrayed them both, Hannibal had cut down Abigail because the world he was creating for her, for all three of them, had been dashed, just like a teacup. He felt no guilt for what he did, but that didn't mean he did not miss Abigail, and mourn her in his own way.

"The gods here are quite adept at making you believe the things you see," he murmurs, "in order to make your emotions as potent as possible. We must remember this."

Abigail closes her eyes too, letting a few tears fall down her cheeks. She releases some the sadness from what she saw and then then considers his words.

"They want to manipulate us. Like my dad did to me. Like Freddie Lounds and her threats that I'd be penniless without her book. And like Jack Crawford tried to do when he made me look at Nicholas Boyle's body." She says with resentment lacing her voice. There is no anger towards Hannibal and no recognition that he also manipulates her. She tells herself that he's different, her protector and family. "How do we fight it?"

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Event Log: Bad End

Hannibal | OTA

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Re: Hannibal | OTA

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So sorry I disappeared! The past couple weeks have been rough.

hope things get better for you!

Thank you! <3

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