maskormenacelogs | You've come to see the healer, so don't you be afraid

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You've come to see the healer, so don't you be afraid

WHO: Dr. Crane and YOU.
WHERE: ImPort Clinic, Nonah.
WHEN: April 2nd till April 7th.
WHAT: Crane's available to talk to about all your problems. He might be probing and prodding, and trying to perceive your fears at the same time. Maybe you're breaking and entering? Or maybe you're just visiting?
WARNINGS: Psychological discussions of a personal note. Discussion of suicide.

[A: Open]

[He doesn't make a sound, no murmur - he's silent in his chair, calm and poised, watching his visitor and dissecting them with his curious mind, trying to see what makes them tick. To see how their minds work. To see them exposed. From their word choice to their body language, every detail is scrutinized and appraised, discarded if meaningless and treasured if valuable - revered if it unveils fear.

He writes something into his notebook, resting it on his thigh while he flicks his eyes around his office. Clean and traditional, the room was sterile with few home comforts; there wasn't a single telling thing that could reveal something about himself. His copy of The Murders in the Rue Morgue was gone, replaced by Lord of the Flies, a book about human nature and individual welfare versus the common good. He likes its symbolism and allegory - and its controversy.

A restful breath, then he leans forward. The leather creaks - and he quirks a brow. He tilts his head slightly, and his body seems to twist the other way. His face is still and emotionless, intently listening to what his visitor has to say. He drums his knee with his fingers. Which must mean something, as he's clearing his throat soon after. Then saying one of three things:]

What do you want?

And you expect me to help you with that?

So. How can I help you?

[B: Closed]

[While earlier in the evening Crane may have been present, now he's nowhere to be seen. Neither can his footfall be heard; those vengeful enough to have pursued him before know his love of scaring people. His office seems unrewarding. Very, very unrewarding. From the top shelf to the bottom draw, every cushion and cranny, every conceivable place Crane can hide something, there's nothing.

There's one place for someone to look. It's a tiny drawer attached to the underside of his desk, with only one lock. He wouldn't keep anything there, right?]

[C: Closed to Abduxel]

[Crane observes.

The city of Maurtia Falls fascinates him, intrigues him, pulls him deeper into it's darker places to investigate the types of people who make its underbelly their home - and he does so using a form that's not going to raise suspicion.

He's a crow, roosting on a rooftop. He can look down across one of the gambling circuits along the canal. It's foreboding and dark at eleven at night, and the city's lights create a dim grey-yellow haze on the skyline. And the thing that interests him the most? Everyone's fears.

He can see them all.]

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How are humans able to overcome fear when their minds do not have the same strength?

[It's a curious question, Melkor knows Men simply do not have the strength bestowed to the Elves, the First Children. To simply break their minds was something that was not of use to Melkor, even as delightful as the thought was.

What Crane is making him think of is to control fear, use it as a weapon.]

It cannot be easy to overcome. I assume you have...your own ways to do so.

[Crane's not surprised someone like Melkor believes fear is something one must overcome. Everyone's understanding of panic and terror is feeble compared to his own - all except Batman.

He does not think Melkor will understand his vision, but he doesn't think he'll get in the way, either.]

Of course. But the question you should be asking is why must fear must be conquered?

[Ignorance would not do.]

What makes you think we can eradicate it? When was the last time fear was truly removed from the world? Everything grows from fear. Hate. Despair. Greed. Fear is the root of love.

[He tilts his head back slightly.]

After all, do we not fear dying alone? Indeed, the one who masters fear to control it understands it should not be conquered but accepted.

Then you intend to use it.

[Melkor is intrigued. His first instinct is to deny fear- he is one of the gods, after all. But to use it, that was interesting. He had enjoyed picking at some of the fears of Feanor, in the darkness when he was the only voice the elf heard.

And then to watch the hatred bloom from that, was even more beautiful.]

Even before the First Children woke and the Lamps were raised, there was fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. I saw it in my siblings.

[He paused, looking intrigued as he tipped his head to look at Crane.]

Do Men really fear death? It was meant as a gift, a blessing to end one's journey.

[Crane tilts his head to the side a little. His eyes wander to the side, mostly to think, but also to let his mind bathe in the issue. The fear of death - what a beautiful, all-encompassing dread.]

Thanatophobia.

[He gives that as an explanation, then paints in the detail.]

It's a human word that serves to explain a supposed morbid, abnormal and persistent fear of one's own demise.

[He thinks of his experiments at Arkham for a few seconds. He's still for all of that time, and even seems to stop breathing. He then inhales slowly.]

Humans can't stand the thought of dying, and they'll struggle... they'll thrash back and forth just to claw back some power. It's beautiful to watch.

Interesting. The elves have no fear of death, nor do my kind.

[Melkor had learned something very interesting about mortals though. It was knowledge he was sure would come in useful at sometime. If Men feared mortality, then he would tempt them with promises of eternal life.]

It must be, I hope to see this someday. I have never known that humans have this fear, I had always been told it was a blessing and they would be grateful for the chance to have their lives come to an end.

[Crane taps his chin. Then he sucks in his cheeks before his entire body seems to relax; he then smiles and licks his lips. Just once. He isn't going to indulge himself too much yet.]

Oh, you'll see quite the show here, I assure you.

[Who else better to put on a terrifying symphony than him? He leans forward in his chair. Because his plans are not the important issue right now.]

Of course. The writer must know his audience. What do elves fear?

I do look forward to it.

[Melkor had revealed a great deal but he felt as if Crane understood.

He had to think about the last question, pondering it for a moment. The elves had never known true fear until he had taken some of them, teaching them pain and betrayal. He had seen fear in Feanor's eyes when he had whispered the seeds of dissent in the darkness, letting it take route.]

They still are learning fear as they grow up. They know little of death as they are not supposed to- at least were not until that changed.

I have only seen true fear in one elf- it was borne of madness and rage as well. The greatest of them, driven mad by jealousy of his brothers.

[Melkor's tone is thoughtful though inwardly, the chance to talk of Feanor like this is delightful. Utterly, delightful.]

I saw fear in his father's eyes before he was slain by his own son as well. I believe fear will begin to take hold now, fear of such violence and anger which will fester.

[It wasn't Melkor's tone that kept Crane's attention. It was the content of their discussion keeping him off his seat, almost - his back was unsupported, and weight was in his knees, as he arched his neck and slightly opened his lips.

Let the fear in, let the pleasure root.

He quirks a brow, but it's so slight it's hardly there. A sound comes from his throat; a murmur of amusement that reveals some fascination.

His face, for the most part, is serene.]

That sounds wonderful.

[His tone is the happiest it's been in this conversation. Betrayal really is the kind of fear that sticks.]

It must be hard for them; being unable to tell who has their back from those who want to stab a knife in it. [A pause.] Poor things.

[And it is going to get better. Just you wait, Crane.]

That elf was named Feanor. He has seven sons, the eldest who is in this world- his name is Maedhros.

[Melkor's grin is practically delight, he cannot help and he certainly notices how interested Crane is in this tale.]

Now Maedhros learned a great deal from his father. After Feanor killed his father, he decided to run off to challenge one of the gods along with his sons. Maedhros, was among them and was driven to such horrible acts the elves could not imagine before such as killing other elves along side his brothers and father.

[The best part is that he's not even completely lying.]

[If Melkor was embellishing the truth, Crane would't care. He's read plenty of tales and considers this one fine oral storytelling. He's interested in the traditions of such things; the conventions and psychological insights into the nature of man, before psychology was even a recognized field.

It only proved men were so scared of everything they sought to give their fears meaning by calling them myths. Or gods. He also knows how the storyteller can create their own truth, or color it, or tell it in their style - and the boyish smile he gives Melkor is also a knowing one.]

What a horrible story Did they carry on to other races?

[He hopes so.]

I know that it caused a great deal among the gods and spirits of our world. It has caused the Valar to turn on each other, fighting to figure out what to do.

[He's definitely proud of himself.]

The races of dwarves and Men have not yet woken, they will in time but I have no doubt this fear and discord will spread among them just as quickly.

[He'll make sure of it, though.]

You sound certain of that.

[Crane's definitely interested. He rests his chin on his hand, and feels his fingers tap his jawline.]

And you're even going to help them open their minds. How noble of you.

Of course I will. We must guide the Secondborn into the world, teach them.

[Oh yes, very noble of him. He had no doubt if Men feared their own mortality, they would envy the immortality of the elves.]

I could not let them wander alone in the darkness, after all.

[Crane would say is but another form of fear. One that drives men to kill each other. It's quite beautiful, really.

He denotes the 'We' with a small, wry smile that shows he knows.]

Of course.

Regardless, there are always some who cannot comprehend an idea. They would tie your hands and cast you back into the pit once more, I'm sure you realize.

They will go against me once more but this time, I will not allow them to stop me.

[Manwe may not wish for change but it will come. Melkor will ensure it. And when Men awake, there will be a great many changes.]

They fear what would happen if that came to pass but I could not simply stand by. I am sure you understand.

[Crane doesn't murmur his appreciation - it shows in the slight nod of his head; the way he tucks in his chin and half-closes his eyes, deep in thought.

The corners of his mouth recede; and then he opens his eyes and stares through Melkor. His face has changed into an emotionless mask. Considerate on the outside; empty on the inside. It's as if his facial muscles are moved by something stirring under his skin. They had imprisoned him; he had been interrogated out of fear. He had sensed it. Of course he understands.]

Yes.

[He understands what it's like to have nobody understand the reason for his work. He knows what it feels like to be constrained.

He shifts a little.]

But I really don't see how they can stop you. There are plenty of those willing enough to listen to your idea, here. Not that they're any of my concern.

They cannot stop me here.

[Melkor laughed at that, last time it took the strongest of the Valar, after him of course, to restrain him. They were not here, there was no one he believed could stand in his way.]

Ideas are not easily stopped. Even if I may be in chains, they will spread in whispers.

[Melkor looked at Crane once more, dark eyes alight. He had found someone who did not judge him, who understood.

Oh yes, he was certainly intrigued to see where this would go in the future.]

[Crane tilts his head back a little when their eyes meet. He returns that glimmer of understanding. He doesn't worry about facing judgment by his peers or accounting for Melkor's actions. He works in partnership but keeps his own distance. He won't have to consider Melkor a relevant threat.]

You will resist to the bitter end, then?

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You've come to see the healer, so don't you be afraid

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