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Hannibal is a little bit cloudy when it comes to Mischa. He doesn't particularly like associating with Mischa due to the fact of what he's done in his past. He's not really... Ashamed? But he knows that the first murders he committed were a tribute to her; if he knew that she was still alive, he might feel regretful, and would definitely do his best to avoid associating with her. But he finds her to be sweet and intelligent nonetheless, but almost surreal.

#Ask #amisguidedghost #Out of Meat #amisguided-ghost

The Fates Can't Help Me Now || Mischa Lecter & Abigail Hobbs

[[ Closed to amisguided-ghost - post!Vermont-verse. After Abigail is disposed of by Mason Verger, she runs into someone rather unexpected...]]

It had been a long train ride back to Baltimore. In many ways, the decision to return home--or whatever passed for home, these days--had been impulsive. It was instinctual, that urge to go back to where you had come from, and though she knew it was unwise, knew that she had best get as far away from Mason - from Hannibal, Will, the FBI - as possible, she had found herself at the ticket booth, handing over the money, clutching a one-way to Maryland.

He'd had his driver drop her several states away, for the same exact reason that it would've made sense for her to keep going south: Mason didn't want her recognized any more than she wanted to be recognized. There were limits, she was sure, to the powers of the Verger family's legal team. Finding a girl (a girl previously presumed to be dead) holed up in Mason's private residence, with a bouquet of bruises on her body and the hollowed-out pallor of someone who hasn't seen the outside world in a long time would probably have been beyond the reach of their expertise. Sex-crimes were one thing, particularly when the witnesses were too young to take the stand. But she was seventeen. She was high-profile. And she knew what had happened to her.

In some ways, she was surprised he hadn't killed her. But then, she'd made a habit of escaping death. It was some kind of cruel joke, on the part of the universe, or God--whoever was listening: put her through as many traumatic scenarios as possible, then rob her of the opportunity for release. There was no easy death. If she'd been less exhausted, she might have considered throwing herself onto the railroad tracks.

But instead she'd boarded the train. She'd slept most of the journey, a fitful sleep punctuated by nightmares, or more accurately rehashed memories for her recent misadventures, the feeling of Mason's skin on hers, the way his breath felt in the darkness.

She'd woken to the rail staff gently shaking her, asking her to please disembark, they were they. They'd arrived.

Abigail stared up at the glass and cement ceiling of Penn Station, arms wrapped around herself, fingers curled around the cuffs of her sweater sleeves. It was cold. Colder than she remembered, even though she'd only left Maryland 48 hours earlier. Easy to forget how chill the wind was, when you'd been holed up in a psychopath's bedroom for five months. The wind howled through the open entryway, cut her, chafed her skin, and all she could think, with a sick twist in her stomach, was that she missed him. She missed Mason.

It was the first time in months that she'd been truly alone.

#the fates can't help me now #the fates cant help me now #amisguidedghost #amisguided-ghost #mischa lecter #abigail hobbs #tw abuse #closed rp #yeow #sorry this took a bit to get up #yayyy starters #vermont verse

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Send a ♚. Your character falls asleep on mine, I’ll reply with what mine does.

He had meant to tell her to go. There wasn’t much of anything else that they could say to each other but she had seemed tired, withdrawn. She had seem a little broken up. And he felt bad about wanting her to go, wanting her to stay to drain her. And would he have drained her if he hadn’t heard the lull of her breathing? Would it have been much nicer to have pushed her out? He looked at her, not careful to not wake her. He wanted to wake her, wanted her to leave. Because that seemed a lot easier to have her go. It was late and maybe she shouldn’t head out on her own though. So he settled back, feeling slightly but entirely uncomfortable with her presence there unaware beside him.

#amisguidedghost #asks #meme

amisguided-ghost

Left The Wounded- {Will+Mischa}

"I…in that case…perhaps the word I should have used is ‘respect’. I respect what you do, and find it fascinating, although I know it must make you feel as if you are losing your humanity. I cannot imagine it makes you feel anything less than awful, most of the time. However, based off of how you seem, how you…present yourself to me? I believe you will not lose your humanity. You are too smart for that—and yes, you are smart, do not correct that statement please—and too kind. Calculating, perhaps, but at this point, you must be.”

shadowsuspended-archive-kaput

"You're analyzing." he said, his voice low, his eyes leaving her face and looking out the window. The snow had covered all the land surrounding his house. It felt more isolated that way, more far away from the rest of the world. "You can't trust representations and I take no stock in predictions of my humanity. I've heard many say that I've lost my mind or had no humanity but all my sanity. Humanity is a tricky thing. Or do we simply make humanity, as we make darkness and hurt? We fabricate all these things, don't we? So we can tell the difference, the difference between lies and truth? Good and evil?"

#left the wounded #title is lyrics #it might make sense???#amisguidedghost

"I’m not cut out for this." [ooc; Hello! :D]

"You are hardly fair to yourself; psychology is a hefty subject, and the burden it bears is heftier. It will take some experience, and take some patience. That is the measurement of humanity, is it not? Patience is a learned trait, not at all inherited. Those who possess it seem to abuse it, and it would do the world well to use it to their advantage. Such as in the times you are experiencing." He was intrigued to what the woman would say next, and she had an air of familiarity about her. Hannibal could picture her as a grown Mischa, though he found the idea almost impossible. The woman was a stranger to him, though she apparently bore the same name; how fitting it was that he met her on a snowy day, as though a remembrance for Mischa.

#Ask #amisguidedghost #(Hello!)#(Hope this response is alright!)#(Thanks for the ask!)#amisguided-ghost

Strays

Will poked a finger into the cage, scraping a constricted finger across the fine fur of the bull dog staring despondently back at him. "Hey buddy." Will cooed, mouth curling into an easy smile. The dog weaned away from his finger, giving a gruff huff. Will's smile evaporated, and he pulled his finger free. Strolling past the cages, it was hard for Will to forget he had been in a similar situation. For all of these animals, their previous lives had abandoned them, or they had abandoned their previous lives. It had landed them in a cage. He had chosen a rocky path of vengeance. He could think more on where that may lead him-- But he chose to drop the thought there, with the lonely dogs staring hard-- vacant eyes.

He turned to another animal, giving the small creature a warm grin, teeth peeking behind thin lips. He knelt, waving his five fingers at the crumpled figure. "Hello.." The animal, so thickly draped in fur, could barely be distinguished, it's black eyes peeked at him beneath a head of grey hair, showered over it's muzzle. Clicking his tongue, Will drew a treat from his pocket, sliding the dry delicacy through the cage. "C'mere.."

As a set of light footfalls alerted his attention, the animal rushed forward, tail wagging benignly, mouth, though shrouded by rivulets of fur, clasped the treat, biting off a portion. Rapidly, Will hid the remaining dry ingredients behind laced fingers, lowering his fist to the ground, the animal sniffing around his knuckles. "Hello." Warily, he stood. Their policy was strict: No feeding the animals. No touching the animals. DO NOT STICK YOUR FINGERS INSIDE THE CAGE. Bracing himself for a chiding, he turned to the lingering female, eyes shaded.

#amisguidedghost #starter #strays #sorry for the unoriganal title #how to spell???

amisguided-ghost

Shadow of The Day-{Will+Mischa}

Baltimore became very cold in the winter, though Mischa wasn’t unfamiliar with the snowflakes that fell and landed on her lashes and cheeks. She blinked them away, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips as she walked down the street. Another student at the University told her of a tiny bookstore tucked away in the city, and she was intent on finding it. Some quiet reading time would be nice—away from her computer, at that. She’d done enough research on the Chesapeake Ripper case from her computer that she was surprised the FBI wasn’t knocking at her door. Maybe, she thought, she should read some books on coding to block IP addresses and what not… The book store, wherever it was and if it even existed, was elusive and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her black coat as she examined the shops she passed. Had to be one of them…or would it be down an alleyway, really tucked away like in some horror film? Wouldn’t that be an adventure? As much as she hated the idea, Mischa thought it might be helpful to ask about it from someone who looked like they knew where they were going. She paused on the sidewalk, taking a step to the left to get out of everyone’s way, and began looking around for someone who gave off a decently friendly vibe.

shadowsuspended-archive-kaput

The snow fell like a white blanket over the world. It was calming almost, to watch as it drifted down to the dark streets. Everyone coated in it as if there was an innocence to everyone. It was beautifully painful to watch. Like an onslaught of lightness in the innate darkness of the world. He had been out now for almost a week. One week. But it felt much longer and much shorter. He felt the cold deep inside of him. He wanted a part of the world suddenly. Just a small part, because he wanted to breathe a moment. There was going to be darkness, there was going to be nothing but tattered remnants of his life now. No more isolation. He knew what he had to do. There was just a moment now though, a moment to take. In between the old and the new. His eyes found the girl now, wandering. Looking almost aimless as she did familiar. He didn't approach her, only watched. His interest taken now in the aimless wanderer draped in snow.

#amisguidedghost #shadow of the day