Hannibal's house, Saturday

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was learning that while Jono as a snake might have more of an excuse to burrow under the covers, Jono as a human was no more eager to get out of bed when he was warm and comfortable. And bribing him with food didn't work quite as well this way.

Beethoven, however, had different priorities, and Hannibal himself needed to eat as well, so he gave up, left Jono in bed curled up with his tablet, and went down to cook. He hadn't yet decided if he'd be nice and bring a tray up, or if he'd make Jono stretch himself if he wanted to share.


[OOC: Expecting the one who's already in the house, but open for whatever!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

The sensations were going to likely run rampant between the two of them. Jono was clutching at Hannibal's back, and he could feel his own fingers against his skin as a result. He was acutely aware of the drowning, feeling that to no small degree himself, and sharing as much just as openly as Hannibal was sharing whatever was living on the surface.

For what it was worth, he was hauling his own walls back up, and hauling them up hard. His own surface thoughts were still torn somewhere between 'moremoremoremore' and 'toomuchtoomuchtoomuch,' but at least he had the presence of mind to pull up blockades that would keep the worst of the places his mind could go from drifting to the fore.

He wasn't completely certain when he'd moved to nuzzle his face into the side of Hannibal's neck, where there was still flesh to nuzzle into, but he was at least vaguely amused when he realized that he'd done so at all. 'Moremoremoremore' seemed to be winning the battle, at least physically.

[sharp_as_knives]

The sensations were a lovely distraction, yes. Hannibal would have groaned if he could have; instead he sent the sound to Jono, letting it reverberate through their twined flames. He held Jono tight, the physical focus helping ground him as he set his own walls, seeing just enough of what Jono was doing to follow his lead.

There were places his mind went that Jono didn't need to go, either.

There were others that were less fraught, and remembering how Jono had pulled him in months ago, he centered himself in a lovely anteroom of his mind palace and tugged in invitation.

[furnaceface]

Oh, there was a good idea. It was exactly the sort of good idea that had Jono letting go and allowing himself to be tugged along, stumbling mentally into that anteroom. Outside their heads, their flames were still twining together, Jono's hands were still clutching at Hannibal's back, and if he could get any closer he was probably going to try.

"This part isn't bad," he murmured, there in their minds' eyes.

High praise, really. No matter what words he chose to say, his approval was quite apparent, twisting in the flames.

[sharp_as_knives]

"No," Hannibal answered. He smiled at Jono and relaxed a bit, looking around at the room he'd brought them to. "I'm certainly getting a better understanding of your experience."

[furnaceface]

"Well, this part is all a little new," Jono pointed out, looking around the room as well. "I've connected with other people telepathically before, of course, but not... I mean, never quite like this. Nobody else really wears their selves out in the open quite like that."

Well. That wasn't entirely true. There were other people out there with mutations similar or even identical to his own. He'd known of one other, and had met another still, but the first was long gone and the second had been trying to kill him, so...

[sharp_as_knives]

"A new experience for us both, then." Hannibal ran a finger along one of the sculptures, letting it bring up the memory of his uncle, painting. "I never thought to have anybody else in this place."

[furnaceface]

"No?" Jono regarded the sculpture, and the memory, with a sort of quiet reverence. "It's from a memory, then? Not something you built yourself?"

He was curious, mostly. The room itself was intriguing, and the possibility that it came from something in Hannibal's past doubly so. But he didn't dare reach out to touch anything, not until he was given permission to do so. He respected the person who had extended the invitation to be here far too much to presume.

[sharp_as_knives]

"It's both," Hannibal answered. "Are you familiar with the concept of a memory palace? Actual memories fitted with relationships to others. Each painting, sculpture, and ornament holds the memory of something." He waved at the room. "This is an art nouveau room at the Musée d'Orsay. I keep memories of my uncle here."

[furnaceface]

"Huh." Jono gave a thoughtful nod before looking back to Hannibal. "I've heard of them before, but I never really took the time to build one for myself. This, though... this is lovely."

And now he definitely wasn't going to run around poking at things.

"I don't have much that's... anything quite so organized as this."

His sandcastles were a start? They had kept his brain from bleeding too much, once Emma had demonstrated how to build them?

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled. "But would you expect anything less from me?"

[furnaceface]

"Of course not," Jono replied, and there was a fleeting grin of his own, flashing across features that, maybe someday, would resolve themselves into something more certain of what they were meant to be. "But that doesn't make any of it any less impressive. Nobody dismissed the Mona Lisa simply on account of da Vinci knowing what he was doing when he painted her, did they?"

Take that however you liked, Hannibal. Maybe Jono really was calling your brain a masterpiece.

[sharp_as_knives]

Yeah, Hannibal's ego didn't really need the feeding. It didn't mean he wasn't grinning at that.

"I don't have the Mona Lisa, but I do have the Louvre's Grand Galerie in here. Would you like to see?"

[furnaceface]

Jono was grinning, now. Just grinning outright, right back.

"You know, I've never been? Now seems like an excellent time for that."

And it would mean a hell of a lot more to him than some random jaunt to Paris, he was fairly certain.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal bowed and opened the door to the next room. It was a short hallway with simple designs, in contrast to the one they'd left. "A hall in my family's house in Paris," he explained.

He opened the door at the end into the promised gallery, bright and sunny with indirect light displaying its paintings proudly. "I needed a large room, well-segmented, with each painting containing a good bit of detail. I built this place in medical school, and have added on to it since."

This first painting, for example, was lovely - the lines of clothing and flesh flowing into each other, the light gleaming on them both. It held his knowledge of the human vascular system.

"Explore if you like," Hannibal told Jono. "It's actually dreadfully boring. But pretty."

[furnaceface]

"I can appreciate pretty," Jono decided, wandering forward a little to inspect the paintings on the walls. "Even if I don't necessarily grasp all of the medical knowledge behind it. There's a lot of dedication down this hall."

He took a few more steps, and then glanced back over his shoulder toward Hannibal.

"Can you show me how to do this?"

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal looked at him a moment in surprise, then smiled. "I don't see why not; all you need is an eye to detail, and things you want to remember."

He thought for a moment, then turned to Jono with a bit more focus. "You could organize things this way. A separate room or building for each life. Keep each one together, yet apart from the others. Do you think that would help you to keep yourself oriented?"

[furnaceface]

"I think it might," Jonothon agreed, giving Hannibal a thoughtful frown. "One room for before things went to hell. One for my life from Weapon X. One for fortress X and that mess. Another for everything else... It wouldn't be anything as opulent as this. Nowhere I've ever been really was. But maybe it'd be functional..."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Not all of my rooms are so extravagant," Hannibal said. "All you need is somewhere to put things. A pub?" He suggested. "Each chair, table, and bottle can be something different. Or a rehearsal room. Even your theater here would work."

[furnaceface]

"It'd give new meaning to that whole 'life's a stage' thing," Jono mused. "That's a tempting one. The pub, too. Maybe the one I played in most..."

He was really sort of spoiled for choice. It wasn't as though he hadn't experienced a lot of memorable places, after all.

[sharp_as_knives]

"The better you know a place, the more details, the better it will work," Hannibal said. "Though those details can be invented, too, so long as you don't change them."

[furnaceface]

"Well, I'm not exactly planning on changing them," Jono replied, trying to sound wry, and mostly just managing bitter. He figured Hannibal would probably know not to take it personally. "But I have a few locations that have remained fairly consistent across all of the memories I have that have known them."

Mostly Fandom, really. Groovy Tunes, The Boards, the Library. He'd had roommates come and go from his old dorm room here, so that wouldn't necessarily do. Perhaps his old room at the Massachusetts academy, though. While his clutter hadn't exactly been a constant, at least there were constants among it. And it would be easy enough to add to.

All of those thoughts were bleeding neatly along so that they were out in the open. Jono didn't see much point in hiding them, not right now. His walls remained up and solid, but they were far enough back that any of the most important parts of his self were untouchable without some effort.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal did know that wasn't directed at him. He wrapped an arm around Jono. "Any of those will do. A place you currently have access to will be easier. The first step is to build it - recall it as precisely as you can, compare it to the original, keep working until you have it stable. It doesn't have to be perfect, only unchangeable."

[furnaceface]

"Perhaps for the first room, I'll do something I'm absolutely familiar with, then," Jono mused as he leaned into Hannibal, both there in their heads, and closer still outside of them. "The Groovy Tunes is the easiest. Each album cover could me a memory, if I needed. Spoiled for choice, really. And every new addition is simply a new release."

Actually, that sort of sounded like fun, so help him.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Perfect," Hannibal said. "Each cover has distinctive art, and there's an overall organizational scheme to it." He smiled. "Now recall it. Bring it to mind. Recreate it."

[furnaceface]

Jono's lips pursed for a moment, and then he gave Hannibal a tug, inviting him into the space that he'd set aside for this. They were standing in void, idle thoughts twisting around them that were indecipherable unless somebody put the effort into reaching out and grabbing them. Some slithered through Jonothon's mind like snakes, others moved with more purpose, prowling the blank space like sharks. A few drifted lost, looking a little brighter than the rest, almost hopeful.

Occasionally, a shark thought would devour one, or a snake thought would strike it, leaving it writhing and dim. Even if more of the little bright thoughts swarmed in to try to save the first, they didn't stand a chance against the snakes or the sharks.

Jonothon ignored all of it as it was happening, and it ignored him, standing there in the middle of it all. That was just the way of it. And sometimes there were too many sharks and too many snakes, and not many little lights at all, and those were the days it was most difficult for Jono to function, to bring himself to get out of bed, or go out the front door, or acknowledge that there was a cat plodding across his lap and purring her little heart out.

For the most part, the little bright thoughts seemed to be holding their own well enough, today. At least, one could see that they were, right up until Jono pulled up the walls of the music shop between himself and Hannibal, and the drifting lights in the void.