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]

Hannibal would likely encounter a few more such thoughts -- some carrying whole diatribes about why things would be okay, others simply labelled with the names of people Jonothon cared about. There was a Kayla, and a Raven. A Hannibal, a Joni. The Joni one was especially bright. Jono owed more 'just one more day' moments to that cat than to most people he knew.

Likewise, there were snakes that simply carried the beginnings of terrible memories with them. Neverland. Mira. Everett. Akkaba.

The light that they were looking for, 'Why can't I be my own weapon?' was beyond all of those, near the outskirts. It moved sluggishly compared to the rest, but stubbornly. If there was any word for the way it appeared, 'scarred' might be the best for it. That particular thought had faced down sharks before, on many an occasion. It was still here.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal didn't pay more than cursory attention to the personal lights; he knew most of the people closest to this area, anyway. He did take a moment to smile and send Jono back a bit of amusement and affection when he brushed by the Hannibal light.

Aside from that, he just kept going until he found the right one. It looked scarred? Scarred was good. Scars meant surviving. Scars meant strength. Hannibal liked this thought.

[furnaceface]

This thought was a thought that was born out of just as much spite as hope. This thought had clawed its way back where others passively let the snakes poison them and the sharks devour them whole. This one thought was one of the very few that was angry. And it had every reason to be.

It slowed uncertainly as Hannibal approached it, though it didn't move to drift away from him. It was part of Jono, after all, one of those parts that wanted him to thrive, and it didn't see any reason to flee a friend. Though what it was doing did still look a bit more like holding its ground than greeting a friend.

This thought was still alive because one of the few things that it cared to trust was its own damn self, thank you.

[sharp_as_knives]

It was a survivor; Hannibal could respect that. He was a survivor, too. He reached out a careful hand to it, offering only a wordless agreement and approval. No pushing, not asking anything. Just, yes.

[furnaceface]

This thought could handle a 'yes.' This thought didn't see many of those, really. It got a hell of a lot of 'but what if,' and 'except when you tried that last,' and the occasional 'too scared,' and a 'too broken' or two. But very, very seldom did it ever see a yes.

It hovered in place for a moment, taking careful stock of what was being offered to it. And then it dared to drift a little closer.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smiled and sent it an image: a sword, sleek and sharp and deadly. Tempered by fire and hardship. Harmful if turned against the wielder, true, but a skilled swordsman stood much less chance of that.

And a blade could be beautiful. Intricate artwork that told a story and made others smile or look on in awe. A good blade was useful for a number of other things than just slicing. It was a help to the one who held it. A support and a decoration. It could be used in the service of another without being given away. It was protection.

A sword could kill snakes and sharks. Wasn't a sword a good thing to be?

[furnaceface]

From where he was standing in the doorway, Jonothon tilted his head a little, thoughtfully. That was... a new approach. Find the strong lights and encourage them to be something stronger still? He still didn't speak, but he let his curiosity carry through their flames to Hannibal, as well. He was interested in seeing how this would work.

He couldn't picture it being successful with any thought except for that one. At least at first.

The light bobbled in place uncertainly, as if not completely certain what to do about this suggestion at first. If it were to become a sword here and now, what was its guarantee that Hannibal wouldn't grab it? But Hannibal was a friend, another light reminded it, and here to help. He wasn't looking for a weapon. He was looking to help Jonothon create one, wasn't he?

A sword was protection. A sword was a good thing to be. And this light, this sword, strong and burning but still showing signs of hard use, wasn't going to lose to a frenzy of sharks again.

[sharp_as_knives]

Very good. Hannibal sent his approval to both the light and Jono.

But a sword didn't only protect itself, did it? Hannibal turned back toward that shark he'd brushed by earlier: Everyone you love gets hurt.

He set a hand on the sword-light, not controlling it, just being there. He pointed out some of the other lights nearby: Kayla, Joni, Hannibal, Raven. Encouragement and vulnerable points both.

He reminded the thought near him: A sword is protection.

[furnaceface]

The light-now-blade seemed to ponder this. Be a weapon, be his own weapon, but use that weapon in the defence of those he loved and cared for? Protect those he saw fit to protect? He had done that before, just recently... and that had worked. Hadn't really backfired spectacularly, at least. More of the same might, in fact, manage to beat some of those sharks away.

The sword hovered for a moment more, and then it started to drift again. If it remained near those thoughts of people he held dear, then he wasn't just a light, he was a light with that much more purpose than before.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal encouraged it, fed it another thought/memory - when you make your own decisions, you strengthen yourself. He let it absorb that, then sent it a question: protection from what?

[furnaceface]

Protection from what? The answer, the little blade thought, ought to be simple enough.

From the world. From everything.

[sharp_as_knives]

Everything, Hannibal agreed. The world, after all, was a dangerous place. But there were only so many things you could protect against. Eventually, all life was fleeting.

This is temporary.

[furnaceface]

The little light from earlier seemed to perk up at that thought. The snake that seemed to mirror it did the same. Both honed in on the blade-thought that seemed to be calling to them both at Hannibal's statement, intrigued by the one that was addressing them.

One sensed protection. The other sensed possible prey. And where there was prey, there would soon be sharks, no doubt.

[sharp_as_knives]

The thoughts came closer, and Hannibal smiled at them. Had these two thoughts ever met, he wondered? He fed more thoughts to the sword: You can't protect everyone forever, and Nobody will be in danger forever, and watched the thoughts grow closer.

[furnaceface]

The snake and the dim light, the two that represented this is temporary together, seemed to be keeping decent stride with one another now on their way to the sword.

It was possibly the first time the two thoughts had worked in tandem like that. The first, the snake, tended to gravitate toward the good thoughts, after all, to tear them down. The second, the light, tried to shine wherever things were darkest. They were two sides of the same coin, but they existed in opposite worlds.

The snake-thought brushed up against the glimmer-thought, and they both paused for a moment, at a loss for what to do.

And the sword paused nearby, waited patiently for them to make up their minds.

A few moments of hesitation more, and the two thoughts took what Hannibal had fed to the sword to heart. Soon, they were both one, and a blade in their own right. Less vehement than the first, perhaps, and far more realistic about its purpose. But if that thought could be a blade, why couldn't they wield their double-edge, too?

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smiled in delight. He hadn't planned that, which spoke more than anything to Jono's mind's ability to heal itself.

He brushed a hand over the new blade, and brought its attention to his chosen target: Everyone you love gets hurt.

Everyone? he asked the new blade. All the time?

[furnaceface]

Of course not, the new blade seemed to sing back. Everything is temporary; nothing is certain.

And that blade didn't much like that shark. Really, neither of them did. Which was why, for the first time in that thought-shark's existence, it found itself set upon not by a handful of dim lights, but by two especially determined swords.

In his doorway, Jono's eyebrows raised a little as he watched.

[sharp_as_knives]

That was definitely a very good start. Hannibal smirked and turned to the lights the first sword had been protecting: Joni, Kayla, Hannibal, Raven. Well, given the choice, there was certainly one of those he knew best, wasn't there?

He fed the thoughts of himself in Jono's mind with a few more: I survive. My choices are my own.

Swords didn't need to stand alone, either. An army was stronger than any one swordsman.

[furnaceface]

That light, the one meant to represent Hannibal, seemed bolstered by that. Of course Hannibal would know. He was a survivor. And, while nothing lasted forever, some things were still worth putting up a fight for.

In Jonothon's mind, the blade that light took the shape of wasn't quite a sword, if only because Jono associated Hannibal far more easily with a scalpel. Which wasn't meant as anything less than praise for Hannibal's skills. Yes, of all sorts.

A scalpel could move in quick and hard, and strike with precision. The swords would go for the heart, fine. But the scalpel was going for the eyes, for the softest, smallest, most vulnerable points.

[sharp_as_knives]

Excellent. And Hannibal couldn't help but smile at the choice of manifestation. He watched those blades work as he moved on. I have friends who would miss me if I left wasn't far, and he brushed the personal lights - Joni, Kayla, Raven - gently and pointed it out to them.

Sometimes the best offense was a good defense.

[furnaceface]

The little personal lights bobbled a little in place before they realized where they were being directed to, and after a moment, they started to move to circle that particular thought. They were joined along the way by other names, by a Lee and a Karla and Rinoa and Squall and several more still, most of which had been free-floating for the longest time.

Jonothon's head tilted a little as he watched. There was a larger number there than he would have thought. It was difficult to picture them all together like this when they usually drifted so far apart.

[sharp_as_knives]

Light fed off itself, too; the more illumination there was, the easier it was for other lights to shine. They strengthened each other.

Hannibal turned and looked for one last shark and a very particular snake. In the ambient glow, You will never be anything but somebody else's weapon should have a very good view of all the lights, of the other shark being attacked by the blades. He stroked the snake and pointed it at the shark. Do you?

[furnaceface]

The snake wasn't used to being encouraged like that, to being stroked and pointed at something. Though that something had never really been a shark before. That much was new. As was the view of the other shark being taken apart the way it was.

But it was an interesting prospect, wasn't it, attacking the sharks? They would be so much more satisfying to take down than the puny little lights, and if that one could be hurt...

A moment later, the snake was winding its way toward the shark it had been pointed to. The thought-creature had hesitated, was watching its former prey become the predator. Which meant it would be easy prey as well when the snake reared up and struck, attaching itself to its target.

It wasn't enough to destroy it, but it was enough, between the two of them, to change two separate destructive thoughts into something new, at least for the time being.

You will never be anything but somebody else's weapon. Or will you?

[sharp_as_knives]

Small, but it was a definite start. A crack in the shark-thoughts that light could creep into. Light and dark thoughts working together, fighting back. Hannibal wondered how much of this would translate back into Jono's frame of mind; he headed back to the doorway where Jono had been watching.

[furnaceface]

Jono was eyeing Hannibal thoughtfully as he returned to the doorway, stepping aside to let him back into the room. The surroundings were a little more finished, now. There were posters on the walls, instruments on display. A few scattered albums on the shelves.

"I can count on the fingers of one hand the people in this world that I'd trust to do even a fraction of what you just did. And that's after some manner of horrible industrial accident," he noted, pursing his lips a little. "Huh."