pulsefire | ❥ so degrading, the show has just begun;;

❥ so degrading, the show has just begun;;

They break so easily...

[She looks down at the bodies, torn limb from limb as if a beast had attacked them. All Sierra wants is to go home, but she's horribly lost in these back alleys and Google Maps is totally full of shit. There was no left to turn on to. This is just a dead end that was full of creepers. Well--now they're dead, but there's just one problem...]

And none of them were nice enough to give me directions. How sad.

[Yet the heir to the Baranski family doesn't seem sad at all. In fact, she seems quite bored as she attempts to brush some of the blood off her porcelain white cheeks. Bright red blood smears across her face. Red is such a pretty color--it's why she likes wearing it, but the Don always did prefer white. He's dead now though--because of her--but that doesn't really matter anymore.

She keeps staring at the limbs and torsos as she contemplates her next move. Google Maps has failed her, so what next?]

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[The smell of blood is a heavy, heedy smell of iron that brings back flashes of memory to Hannibal each new time he inhales it; though he hadn't expected to run into on the streets of this city. Not this thick and cloying; it's nearby and hardly just a papercut, it has to be. A mugging gone wrong?

Curiosity over the darker edges of humanity demand he go and see, and the sight isn't one he would ever have expected.

He doesn't let it show on his face, though, quickly composing it to a small smile as he sees a young woman standing bloodied in the center of it all.]

Are you lost, then? I do hope you're not injured and that's their blood staining your face and clothes.

It seems I am.

[She turns to look at the new, not dead face. Sierra isn't really bothered by him being here--what would he do, call the cops? That would be fun and probably funny. Sierra loves the cops.]

It is theirs--they break so easily. Not a challenge at all.

[She seems calm but not in shock as she turns to him, and Hannibal is certain she's the one responsible for all these deaths, no matter how fantastic that seems.

Her hair is pale, very pale, but the vague golden hue is...familiar. Hannibal takes another step closer, but slowly, carefully.]

If there is no challenge, why bother? Are you gaining anything from their... [He glances to the destroyed, torn bodies, looks back at her with the smallest of secret smiles.] ...injuries?

Hm. Well.

[She returns his smile with a smirk. It's a rare day when Sierra actually smiles. No, not much merits that anymore.]

Their intention was to harm me, so I killed them. I see nothing wrong with that--even if the match was so to say...rigged.

[They were just human, but what does it matter to her. Sierra walks toward him, eyes wide and doe like as she tilts her head to the side.]

You are not afraid. That is interesting.

[Harm her?] I am glad to hear the killing was justified - although of course I'm not happy that they attempted to harm you.

[He's not afraid still, as she approaches him, though Hannibal is curious. Why does she look so innocently at him? He can play this game, though, and smiles sweetly back at her.]

No, dear, I am not. I must say it's interesting to see yourself so surrounded by carnage. This is normal for you, then?

Natural selection should not have to be justified.

[The strong weed out the weak. Sierra is not weak--she refuses to be. A long, long time ago she was completely naive of the world around her. Now she knows that things are never perfect and that the world will never be pure.]

Since I was small, yes. But when is someone from the mafiya not surrounded by carnage?

[She says it so bluntly, like it's nothing. Perhaps it's arrogance, but Sierra is almost sure that no one could catch her. Not now, anyways.]

[This small woman is certainly full of herself, full of a confidence that is gratifying to watch. Hannibal can't help but be curious, though, looking at the bodies.]

The mafia? Simply a trained killer then? I see...

There's strength involved, yes, but no subtlety, no true joy taken in drawing out their deaths into agonizingly beautiful plays of dying hope. [Or not from what he sees. He considers her a moment, then.] Why were they going to hurt you?

They didn't give me directions and they weren't worth toying with.

[She can't help but to roll her eyes a little.]

Oh, I don't know. What do creepy men usually do to women in dark allies? Invite them over for a tea party?

[Hannibal cannot help but be amused at the irony of this strange situation.] That is actually exactly the sort of thing someone like myself would do, if there was ever a woman I met in a dark alley who seemed appropriate to invite.

[It's not exactly an invitation so much as it's just a parry of words back, but he wouldn't say no to such an interesting dinner guest.]

If I was to meet such a man then I suppose I would be inclined to agree, so long as there was knife play involved.

[Sex jokes for the win.]

Explaining this to any wandering eyes will be rather awkward though.

[She motions to the white sundress with rather apparent blood splatters covering it.]

[He's not affronted at the joke, but he is a little surprised and it shows in raised eyebrows despite his severe expression.]

A clever, strong girl like you didn't think of some way to leave here without attracting attention already?

[This is quite the opportunity to act the gentleman and offer his coat, isn't it? Hannibal is shouldering it off in a fluid motion and then holding it out by its back, offering to help her into it.] Perhaps I could help with that?~

I suppose I was enjoying myself a little too much to care--but that moment has passed.

[When he offers her his jacket, Sierra blinks in surprise. Why is he even offering to help? How very, very strange.]

You are an odd man, sir.

[But she lets him help her slide the jacket on either way.]

May I offer you dinner? It's not that long of a ride to the compound.

Self-control is a useful tool. [It's a light scolding, nothing like what should be caused by the sheer amount of blood and guts painting the area muted reds.

He looks at this small girl in his jacket; as instinctive as the gesture was, he's never actually seen someone else in his clothes.]

I would be...delighted at the chance to get to know you better, Ms...?

Only in small doses.

[She's gained far more from impulsiveness over the years. Besides, she likes to always have a comeback--even if he is somewhat right in his argument.]

Sierra Baranski. No need for suffixes.

And you are?

[If he was smart he might recognize her surname--the Baranski family was well known, if only because of their access to some of the world's most intelligent (and perhaps insane) minds. Besides that, it's not every day that a mafiya family is run by what looks to be am eighteen year old girl.]

[Hannibal lets the matter rest for now; differences make for fascinating companions, and right now this girl who's capable of causing such destruction while being so small is very interesting.]

Sierra, then. [He corrects himself, omitting the "Ms".]

Hannibal Lecter. [Her own name rang a bell, though Hannibal didn't really make a habit of knowing the titles of crime syndicates. A few newspaper articles flashed through his head, but that was all.]

Hannibal. A pleasure.

[She leans over to brush her lips against his left cheek, then his right cheek. It was a habit she picked up from living in Europe for so long.]

I presume you know your way back to the main roads? I'm not terribly familiar with this part of the city.

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❥ so degrading, the show has just begun;;

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