cannibalgourmet: (therapy)
[personal profile] cannibalgourmet
Hello guys! Welcome to Dr. Hannibal Lecter's office. This is an open RP post for your characters to come in and have a therapy session with him. Just remember, he's not your conventional psychiatrist and will likely have fun at your character's expense and suffering. Expect some manipulation too. I'll try to add some prompts here, but feel free to tag in. XD

Re: have a teenage cannibal in need of guidance

Date: 2014-10-06 03:27 am (UTC)
clippedalock: (senses will lie)
From: [personal profile] clippedalock
[Her brown eyes are wide, almost doe-like if one misses the predatory sharpness. She's been brought off the painkillers she was on during her first day at the hospital, and while she doesn't talk much, she is very aware, and quite coherent.

She can't tell anyone who she is, what she's been through. There's a death certificate, an autopsy, and a half dozen dead teenage girls. And part of her misses that. Their fear, the taste of their flesh on her teeth, how they screamed as she ate the fat and left them alive as she devoured them. They tasted so, so good. That thought horrifies her, even as the truth hums in her vargulf heart.

But she's trying... trying to be something, even if she doesn't quite know what that is. Good. Human. Maybe they'll give her a new name and a new family and Hemlock Grove and Peter and gypsies will be nothing but a dream.

She nods when he says her name, and there's recognition as she looks at him, but she doesn't answer.]

Date: 2014-10-07 05:16 am (UTC)
clippedalock: (headtilt)
From: [personal profile] clippedalock
[She's not mute. She says a few words here and there, mostly small things, more or less meaningless. It's just easier to keep from betraying herself if she doesn't talk too much, doesn't tell too much. She needs to get out of here before the next moon. So, yes, of course she's nervous.

She turns to face him when he takes a seat at the side of her bed, drawing her knees up and peering at him over the tops of her bony knees.]


You're a different kind of doctor.

[A quiet observation, her voice not timid, but Christina still hasn't quite lost that sense of being just a little unsure of herself. Even if not for his neat suit, he smells different. She looks at him inquisitively with a slight tilt of her head. Christina has never been able to shake that childlike curiosity, always wanting to know why things were, how they worked.

She was going to be a writer some day. She needed to know the boundaries of the universe to write within it.]

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