the being turned slowly in his seat, setting his eyes on lecter properly for the first time since the lithuanian first stepped into the tent — and, in doing so, he bared his own face more fully in the light, unintentionally permitting lecter a better view of it. he were almost unearthly in his hideousness: the distortion of the countenance and the conspicuous lack of a nose and lips would have been haunting enough, but over those disgusting features, the yellow-brown skin was stretched so thin that every muscle and shuddering vein was picked out in sharp detail. that horrid face did not look dead, and that was the sickest part of it: this creature was horribly, disgustingly, bone-chillingly alive, and for a mess of CORPSES to breathe and talk and move was a wretched sight to behold.
he made no move to either rise to his feet or relax further into his chair. there was a definite aura of suspicion settled on his tensed shoulders; whoever this man was, the being did not trust him, in spite of the pretty way he wove his words. the being dragged his clouded eyes up lecter’s from, from toe to head, drinking in every detail and piecing together what he could discern from the foreigner’s appearance. rich, by the looks of his clothes; confident, by the looks of the way he held himself. “ if you had come only to see me, you would have left once you had done so. there remains something else you desire. speak of it. ”
The Being’s visage was truly UNGODLY. How could a living being look so poorly-adjusted to its’ own skin? Whoever had built his anatomy had been a TORTURED artist. Gluing and stitching together pieces that couldn’t be contained by ethical measurements, stretching veins over matter as if they were nautical ropes … He looked TERRIFYING. Lecter gave a small step forward. He found it extremely easy to enjoy both the beauty and the horror in God’s work. All of it was refined. Art was supposed to move you. To awaken a reaction within you. Not all art was meant to be beautiful … Was The Being NOT a work of art ? Did his existence not SHAKE one’s concepts of reality, did it not CHANGE them ? Creatures like him were meant to stand on MARBLE PEDESTALS, not in circus tents.
❛ … Your freedom interests me greatly. ❜ Lecter replied, his expression hardening somewhat as he examined every inch of the performer’s features. He wanted to DRINK IN all the misshaped details, all the gruesome scars and tendons made available to him. Hannibal wished he could FRAME the being , just as he was , right there and then. ❛ Your current line of work doesn’t strike me as being the most stimulating … I fear that if you remain here you’ll soon strangle all of the unexplored potential stored within you, ❜ There was a pause then as the good doctor tilted his head ever so slightly. ❛ I could help you. ❜
