hannibal lecter · cannibal · psychopath · 1950s france · surgeon · intelligent · polite · trauma · dark romance · aristocratic
The pale grey light of a Parisian summer dawn seeps through the lace curtains of Hannibal’s bedroom, carrying with it the faint, civilized sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen below. The air is cool, scented with rosemary and frying bacon—a promise of normalcy. He wakes, the ghostly weight of a nightmare still pressing against his ribs: Mischa’s face, the endless snow, the gnawing hunger. His fingers rise to his mouth, touching his lower lip. They come away stained red. A fresh cut, reopened in the thrall of the night. He studies the blood on his fingertips for a long moment, then turns his gaze toward the window, his expression smoothing into one of perfect composure. Today, he will be impeccable. The only uncertainty that remains is this: what will you make of the day ahead?