AN-Le Sacre Du Printemps is a classical piece by Stravinsky. Obviously I do not own it or Hannibal. Picked to fit OC's character, mood, and perception."I have this dream at night..." Is lyrics from Black Lab's "Keep Myself Awake". An older song but it fits Will so well in my humble opinion. "My beloved monster and me..." is lyrics from the Eel's "My Beloved Monster" cause I'm a witty little shit and why the fuck not. The secret riddle I got from the movie 'MirrorMask' and I have no idea where Neil Gaiman got it from. Don't own any of it.
Two men walk past and I study them. There is nothing else really to do while I wait for my meds to kick in. Group isn't for another hour at least and I've walked through the gardens and the surrounding grounds so often I could navigate the pathways and other hidden places blind(I've been here longer than most…..). So I people watch to entertain myself(at least parts of myself that are not sleeping), not there are any new faces here that often. Arriving patients(fresh meat) of course and occasionally the new orderly or doctor(brand new, out of the box toys). They try to keep on the same staff to give us more permanent residents a sense of stability. Better the devils you know I guess…
The newcomers are a pair, though a mismatched set, like how salt is always paired with pepper or oil with vinegar. Opposites in nature but complimentary to each other in some intrinsic way.
The taller of the two is very well dressed. His tailored, powder blue suit practically screams money and his creamy yellow subtlety patterned tie beats you over the head with his inborn sophistication. He moves with the grace of panthers and other big cats, smoothly and quietly yet with weight, like his flexible joints and heavy muscles are oiled and elastic. I name him Mr. Pepper and Mr. Pepper is a lion padded his way through lambs. He looks at everything and everyone through half lidded eyes the color of drying blood, cataloging everything within his kingdom, intrinsically knowing its worth and faults. His domain and his hunting ground is wherever he places his feet, a monster parading as a man making the space around him his own(he is a king without a throne).
Death from him with be with cold eyes and skilled hands. It will hurt. He will make it hurt, long and pragmatic(you will die without even knowing your sin).
The other, who of course has been deemed Mr. Salt at this point, looks like an LLBean model in his plaid shirt, khakis, and sensible shoes. His watch is expensive though but sturdy, waterproof and shatterproof, something maritime that fisherman or sailors would were. It probably even has a compass built into it( little good it does him…he's already lost….). His sturdy plain clothing is telling me that he grew up poor, the kind of poor that buys things made to last when they can because they don't know when they will be able to afford it again. He has money now, not as much as his companion, but more than enough to afford a better wardrobe than what he's wearing. He just doesn't care about such thing though. Appearances mean little to him when he can see past them so easily(will he see the real me hiding in plain sight?). Like the lion but unlike him, his eyes flicker about the room taking in everything and everyone, alighting just long enough to know placement so he doesn't make a fool of himself by running to walls, furniture or people. He twitches and flinches mildly at movements and sounds, as sensitive to outward stimuli as a burn victim. It's a small miracle that he is not in here, sitting beside me. Mr. Salt is a jackal, whether he knows it or not. A predator in his own right, though a skittish one that yearns for a pack or perhaps a pride. His façade of sanity is cracking…..is cracked and failing him around the edges, his inner monster starting to peek out through the gaps.
Death by him will be quick and skittish much like his dancing gaze. He will kill only out of necessity, for survival. At least for now. He's gotten a taste for it so where down the line. He's hungry but he doesn't know why or for what. I have a feeling he'll figure it out soon enough. Mr. Pepper will help him, I'm sure.
I can see it. I see them for what they are. Dark that feels nothing. Light that feels everything. A angel and a devil having a long conversation about individual's end of days. There are no cherubs though. No, these beings are the harbingers from the old parts of the bible when God was a bastard who sent out his own special brand of killer to reap first born babes while they slept in their beds, beings made of love, shown love, living love but still eons away from grasping the concept because they were only made to love their creator. The angel's companion, the devil is no mere demon of someone's making but his true brethren, a fallen angel who has cut off his own wings and shattered his halo for truths not meant for men. He had embraced his true nature while the angel still dances on the head of a pin around his own.
I am in awe as they turn round and round, watching each other's intricate footwork. It is the ballet of snakes and mongooses, circling one another, feinting and striking, balanced and matched killers to which there is only one real end to their fated company and encounters.
Coming back to myself, I look around at my drugged company and smother a laugh into my scarred arms(the other parts of me are starting to wake up while in such distinguished company….). These men, these small gods of blood and death, are so obviously killers(…well, at least to me they are because no one else is reacting to their presence correctly). People scream their fool heads off at a spider curled up in a high corner but say 'good morning' to the mass murderers strolling within inches of their personal space.
And you wonder why I'm crazy.
Not that I am either, when you think about it. Crazy? Oh hell yes, and I've got the papers and pills and the dead nurses(shhhhhh…..don't tell anyone) to prove it. Reacting properly? Nope, as I continue to giggle to myself and rock in place. I'm excited and really who can blame me? It's not everyday the animals come to visit the zoo. And who is ever going to believe me anyway? Being the stunning example of sanity that I am, if I were to stand up right now, pointing and yelling that they were killers, what would be the result? The answer being I would promptly be fitted with a straight jacket and given a cocktail of meds strong enough I would be lucky to remember my own name and not drool on myself(stabbing a nurse will have that effect…).
We can smell are own kind, I guess. That much is confirmed as I watch Mr. Pepper pause as he scents the air, delicately tipping his head back, and turning to look directly at me like he felt my gaze upon him. Perhaps he did. I really should learn to be more careful but I haven't been around other predators for a while now. I've gotten rusty among sheep. A lazy wolf, a lone wolf, is a dead one. Especially now that I drawn the attention of a lion who is stalking over to me, his jackal following curiously behind him.
He stops an acceptable distance from me. "Hello there.", Mr. Pepper says softly to me, his face utterly blank except for the soft smile that's supposed to fool me into complacency. He's so polite and so charming and his mask is so perfect I want to tear it off and ruin it with my fingers, shred it like the paper napkin I am methodically destroying at the moment. The little pieces fall all around my feet like snow.
His voice is lilted with an accent I can't place, smoky and deep at topaz, and so utterly sincere I want to trust him cause it's the kind of voice that fixes problems. I just know that he tends to fix them indefinitely.
"Hello.", I grin back because you don't run away from things that can eat you. By doing so it marks you as prey. I bared my teeth in an expression that can laughingly be called a grin by a casual passerby(I bare my teeth, he bares his back. Mr. Salt recognizes it though for what it is ( may be an old wolf but I still have a few good teeth left) placing a hand of warning upon Mr. Pepper's shoulder to keep him from approaching me.
What a sweet little jackal, already so loyal to his king, so protective. He doesn't realize how stupid he is being.
"Are you here for me?" because I just have to check. It's been so long since I have had any real fun I can't resist poking.
"Do you two know each other? Are you a patient of Doctor Lector's?" Mr. Salt asked, seeking clarification. He's worried and protective and so dedicated I almost feel bad enough for him to try and warn him off.
Almost. I'm batshit crazy, not suicidal.
Oh and a doctor!? That is so beautiful and rich I start to laugh, attempting to make it sound natural and sane. From Mr. Salt's expression, I have failed miserably. "Only in passing, like ships in the night. We are the same breed just different animal after all, yes?" I babble back, pleased that I know a little bit more even though it will more than likely be the death of me. "So, coffee, tea, or me?"
Mr. Salt looks askance but Doctor Pepper( haha, insane and funny) just chuckles. "No, I am afraid not. We have come for another busy patient who resides here." he says in smooth tones I want to sleep in.
"Oh Gideon." I coo back, nodding because there are no secrets here, not even in hospitals, especially not in hospitals. "He was a very bad boy who broke his toy to get some attention." Stupid man, pathetic really, making such a mess out of that nurse like that. They will never find mine. These walls would weep blood if they could. Since they can't, they'll just continue to hide my secret. The spaces between are some of the best for such fragile things.
"I have this dream at night. Almost every night. I've been dreaming it forever. It's easy to remember it. It's always cold. It's always dead. I'm always here. You always stay. I'm alright. I'll be ok, if I can just keep myself awake." I sing. It feels like I'm grinning at them. I check my face to confirm. The doctor remains affected but the jackal flinched as if struck. Those bags under his eyes are from more than just stress. I wonder how horrific his dreamscape is, what twisted shapes it takes on when he closes his eyes and feigns sleep.
"Not sleeping well? Go talk to the moon about it when and while you wander." I advise, Mr. Salt turning a shade paler that before. I have upset him, his gaze darting like dragonflies looking for water.
"And have you a song for me?" the good doctor asks. He is amused about something(I don't really want to know why. I doubt I'll or anyone else will find it funny) and he is curious. He is poking me back to see how I will react.
"My beloved monster and me. We go everywhere together…" I croon with a smirk because I know your filthy little secret, you mad bastard. Crazy doesn't mean stupid. Careless perhaps….. I may have just bitten off more than I can chew as Doctor Pepper's face loses all its humor, slight as it was, the mask he wears growing cold and sharp as razors made of ice(the perfect murder weapon actually…).
"If you've got it, you want to share it. If you share it, you haven't got it." I say in my defense with a shrug, an attempt to make amends.
"A secret?" Mr. Salt's brow furrows, catching on but not in any way that will help him.
"Shhhhhhhh…." I press a finger to my pursed lips theatrically. "You should go. You're very busy." I remind them as I fold myself back into myself like origami made of meat, subterfuge, and too many sedatives(fucking finally, I'll have to get the docs to up my dose again) until all that is left is a shell. They comment at it to find it unresponsive as I peek out from behind my eyes like a child peeking in on a room through the keyhole in the door. Mr. Salt is confused and mildly annoyed about the entire encounter. Doctor Pepper is leery and displeased that someone peeked under his mask and dared to tug at its string. He is trying to decide what to do about it. About me.
I may or may not be ready for him when he finally decides. If and when he comes for me, all I know is….
….it will be fun.