Who: Hannibal and Vlad. Where: Hannibal's home. When: July 3, very late. What: Hannibal the Cannibal and Dracula do what they do. Rating/Warning: High / Vampirism, in-depth discussion of cannibalism, NPC death, body mutilation. Status: Complete.
Hannibal had said that if he came across a fresh corpse, he wouldn't be adverse to following in the lines of his dream counterpart. And while Vlad could, in all likelihood, leave the freshly drained body where he was, something nudges at him to get rid of it. A hint of guilt, perhaps, practically drowned by his lack of remorse. His conversation with Hannibal comes back to him, that's where Vlad will go first.
His car pulls up in Hannibal's drive near midnight. A misting rain has settled over the area, having followed Vlad since he left, a thing he isn't quite sure how to control yet. It's useful, though. It blurs the sight of him carefully picking up the limp form from his car and carrying it to the door, raising his elbow up to ring the bell.
Well at least he had called, first. Not that Hannibal was asleep, but it's the polite thing to do, even if he was rather vague about the nature of his call.
So imagine Hannibal's surprise when he opens the door to see Vlad someone unconscious. Or perhaps not even living at all. He frowns and stands aside to let Vlad in, trying to decide where to put this person. Or former person, rather.
"The basement, I think. You can explain when we're there. Mind the carpets."
This is one of the many reasons Vlad enjoys Hannibal's company. There are no immediate questions, no hesitations, just a simple instruction and acceptance. They're not so different, in both the waking world and the dream world. Having never had something like a kindred spirit, Vlad appreciates it. Jonathan is very accepting of everything, but he doesn't understand.
"Thank you," Vlad replies, teeth impossibly white between lips almost too red. There's a care in the way he brings the body to the basement, resting the form of what was once a vibrant young woman on the butcher's table.
While Will may tease him for being a food snob, he's currently very grateful for his butchering table. He does take note of Vlad's appearance, the way his mouth looks right now and the corner of his mouth ticks up into a smile.
"You've been busy tonight, haven't you?"
Glancing up at Hannibal, Vlad's own mouth quirks up. "I have been something." He absently runs his tongue over one of his fangs. "Do you want it?"
"I did say I was curious, didn't I? And it seems you've taken the liberty of draining it for me, saving me the trouble." Hannibal trails his fingertips over the former woman's arm, feeling the coolness already starting to settle into her skin. "So polite of you."
"It is remarkably convenient. I am afraid I am uncertain if she is ideal for consumption beyond her blood, but it seemed an opportunity that should not be passed." Vlad stays where he's standing near the head of the body, eyes passing over her. "I do not feel so bad about it, as I had suspected, yet I would not like to merely discard her."
Hannibal leans over the body, pressing his nose to her neck and inhaling deeply. "No illness that I can immediately smell, and I have a very keen nose for such things. I'll have to cut her open to be certain, of course."
Jogging clothes are flimsy and easily enough cut away. He moves over to his tool cabinet and fetches his poultry shears from the drawer, already going through recipes in his mind. "You're welcome to stay, if you'd like. I could make us dinner."
Finally Vlad moves, once Hannibal starts to move, and he shrugs out of his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. "Regretfully I have already eaten tonight," he quips, leaning against the wall with an amused look. "But I will stay, if it is all the same."
Truth be told, he wants to see what Hannibal does. And they're in this together, it would be rude to leave him.
"Of course. You were kind enough to bring me this generous gift, you may stay as long as you'd like." The clothes are disposed of and set aside, and Hannibal starts laying out the tools he needs for this particular operation. "It's been a while since I've operated on anyone, but it should be like riding a bike. Especially with the amount of detail my dreams give me.
There's a metal trash can over in the corner. Would you mind fetching it for me?"
"I suspect it will come easily." Vlad pushes away from the wall. When he finds the trash can, he sets it next to Hannibal. "Having no experience drinking someone's blood before, it seemed very natural to me. I do not think you will have a problem."
"Will you be my sous chef?" Hannibal smiles and sets his jacket aside, rolling up his sleeves and moving over to the sink to wash his hands and arms up to the elbows. For a moment he contemplates wearing gloves, but for his first time he'd much rather feel everything properly.
"There is butcher paper and twine on the counter by the cabinet. If you'd be so kind, I'd like you to wrap things and put them in the refrigerator as I hand them to you."
Vlad would prefer to make himself useful, so he nods his agreement. He doesn't think about how this doesn't feel as strange as it is. Instead, he goes to find the paper and the twine.
"Do you make many things from people, in your dreams? Or is it limited?" After all, people know so much about the habits of vampires, but Vlad knows little about the life of a cannibal. He's always been curious, but even despite his blunt way of saying things, he'd never found an opportune moment to ask until now.
"I have a very extensive list of recipes that I've taken from my dreams, as a matter of fact. It's very versatile, it absorbs flavours well. I've used it in place of most everything but beef, which is too familiar and distinct a taste to replace with a lighter meat." As he talks, he starts breaking down the body. It's slow work, but he does it with practiced ease.
It should concern him how natural and familiar the actions feel, but he doesn't think on it too long.
There's an interested hum from Vlad. He watches with keen eyes how Hannibal breaks down the body, with a practiced familiarity it looks like. He recognizes the look on Hannibal's face, too. The lack of horror or repulsion, simply the expression of a man doing what he always does.
"Even fish? How very fascinating." Vlad's eyes move from Hannibal's hands to his face. "Will you try out a recipe on someone unknowing?"
"Fish is trickier, of course, but there's a way to prepare the meat so that it's flakey and light. Pork and chicken are easier, or meat that isn't served as often. Rabbit, for example." The spare parts are set into the trash can to be dissolved in acid, later.
The parts he wants to save are trimmed down and handed to Vlad to pack up and put in the fridge.
"Will I here, in this world? The person I plan on cooking for first is aware of what I do, how I am. He would catch on quickly, I think."
"You must show me some time." Dutifully, Vlad takes the cuts he's handed, packaging them with care. He sucks some stray blood off his thumb on his way to the fridge.
"Is that good or bad? He would not judge you too harshly, I would think? Jonathan is understanding of my condition, as much as one can be, in such a position, but it is good to have. Even for men such as us who do not openly care of such things."
"I'd be more than happy to. Perhaps I could have you and your friend Jonathan over for dinner? Unless you don't wish to inflict my tastes on your paramour."
Hannibal puts the organs in the 'to dispose' pile. "I don't know her medical history," he explains, rinsing off his hands before he continues with his work. "And therefor would not like to risk ingesting spoiled meat. As for my friend, I'm not certain how he'll react. But that's part of the fun, isn't it? Seeing how someone might respond to a situation."
Vlad holds up a hand, because he understands. More or less. The principle is the same as eating other meat. "If he knows what you are, he will understand more than you may think. You and I, we judge ourselves perhaps more harshly and do not give credit to those who love us."
Then he hesitates, eyebrows raising. "I am uncertain. I would like for you to meet Jonathan, of course. But he may not be forgiving if I unwittingly feed him what I have killed." An amused look crosses his face. "A normal dinner, yes. You will invite your friend, too."
"A normal dinner, then. Understood. Let me know when the both of you are available." Most of this will have to be frozen, then, if he's only cooking for himself and possibly Will. "Thank you very much for all your help this evening."
"It is my pleasure," is the sincere reply. When everything is packaged and put away, then cleaned up, Vlad motions to the stairs. "Come. If I am not keeping you awake, we have not spoken in some time, it would be good to catch up."