maskormenacelogs | i don't want you back

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i don't want you back - i can't deal with that

WHO: Robert Callaghan, Jonathan Crane, Lucifer
WHERE: Church of the Morningstar
WHEN: 8/22
WHAT: Robert's come to have a talk with Crane. Just a talk. Honest. Really. Truly. ~~YOU RAMPANT LITTLE PIECE OF SH-~~
WARNINGS: Robert Callaghan Making Excellent Life Choices^TM. Probable references to trauma. Also, Crane is in this log, period.

There was a chance that there was still an explanation. A method to the madness; a reason. But in all honesty, Robert Callaghan had moved past such, and even though he planned on demanding them anyway-

"Robert, what is your opinion on forgiveness?"

The mask was left behind. Even though he felt like going after a vengeance, here, and it was certainly personal enough to warrant the sort of rage it embodied- a part of Callaghan whispered that with Crane being the one to have given it back to him, showing up with it would have been what he wanted. Had he wanted to urge that out from him, as part of his 'acceptance'? Wanted to see it again? How much of this had been planned?

With how long, how much he'd spoken with Crane - how much he'd allowed himself to rely upon the counseling - it was enough to make him doubt his own drive. And he'd had more than enough of that. Too much, really; he'd just really felt like he was getting his feet under himself again when all of this...

"Burn a path of your own, if you don't like the ones available to you."

Well.

Robert regarded the church before him for a few long moments before making to enter, half-expecting fire to flare up around him. Seeing as whom it was associated with, after all. It wasn't that he did or didn't believe; just that it'd only been so important to him. Nonetheless, he'd seen enough regarding Crane's 'sponsor' to make him slightly wary.

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Lucifer moved like a whisper on the wind. His appearance came in the rustle of bristled feathers, landing beside Callaghan - today in a different T-Shirt that proclaimed 'And then Lucifer said: "Put the alphabet in math."' You know. He's a funny guy. In any case, he had his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans, and whistled an off tune note or two as he arrived at the bottom of the steps beside Cal.

If it had been anyone else, then his arrival might not have been so impromptu, but he didn't make too much of it. A little bit of a stiff breeze, maybe, but no shaking sensation of power such as he could persuade his grace to present, if he wanted. It was practically pally. As was the way he introduced himself.

"Robbie. How good to see you again." At least he didn't include "how's the wife?" right? "I thought you might pay our mutual friend a visit, but I can't recommend the guided tour enough, if you get a moment. And the Science Museum, of course, while you're in town."

So saccharine, how friendly he could be, and to be fair he could just as much say he was invested in Callaghan as Crane was. He watched him keenly, as he stepped closer.

"I suppose you're in some kind of hurry. Shall we skip the formalities and get right to it, then?"

The sudden appearance was one thing; the nickname, used by only a sparse handful of people, was what really had him stop. It took a moment for Robert to realize he was staring in surprise, and even when he caught himself, it took another for him to bring himself back. The last time he'd heard that was-

-no reason to dwell on what wasn't real. It was coincidence, at best. (Again? Why did he say-) "I'll pass," he answered to the first two offers, moving on with his own dry 'humor'- "Just came to speak with the man of the hour."

One last session, as it was.

Edited 2015-08-21 19:01 (UTC)

And that was really the aim, wasn't it? Unsettle him, let him question it, wonder, and pass on to the next step. He smiled, and sidled just a little closer, but suspecting that he wouldn't get within touching range of Robert before he flinched, he flew the rest of the distance, vanishing and reappearing by Callaghan's side. His hand fell firmly on his shoulder, and then at once they were inside the church.

Flying - at least the first time - wasn't easy. Of course they weren't flying back and forth through time, so it wouldn't be that bad, but--a little vertigo, maybe? They would reappear in the main room of the church, at the top of the aisle, almost in the space of the blink of an eye. Crane would be in the transept, which meant that Callaghan would have to invade his sanctuary to address him, but it would be his choice to step over that boundary.

"I'll leave the two of you alone," he remarked, cooly, and gave no more warning or instruction before with a flutter of his wings he disappeared himself away.

But he would be watching.

And now he was smiling. The devil smiling probably wasn't a good sign. Not that Robert expected him to suddenly pull out a pitchfork or somesuch, but that was besides-

Too close.

Robert began to shift away, instinctively needing space between himself and this other, but moving more quickly than a (fallen) angel's flight was somewhat out of his capabilities. Before he could think to react more than tensing, the world was different. He reeled, taking a half-step to steady himself as he glanced over his shoulder-

-and gone. Leaving him with...well, on the bright side, he wouldn't have to go very far. Even so, now physically off balance to go with the mental shift, the first thing he could think of to say?

"The devil, Crane?" Really? went unsaid, though it was clear in his tone.

When chief of staff at Arkham, Crane had rarely indulged in visitors. People unrelated to his work had never received an invitation to cross his threshold. His colleagues had known they were welcome on matters of work, but had learned through his evasion that he kept his private life separate. It had gone unsaid that he had no personal motivation; the joke being he was married to his work.

He continues reading. Before he speaks to Robert he reaches the bottom of the page, compulsively needing to finish the ritual that brings him peace. Not from fear but for thought. He slides his fingers together and rests them on the novel, a weighty read but a brilliant source of information. He looks over his shoulder without meeting Robert eye-to-eye.

"If one considers the concept of Hell, one should think that's where my soul is bound." Getting Lucifer's aid and protection was like selling snow to an Eskimo - and they both knew that. "What do you want?"

"If one 'considers the concept of Hell', that's not something to be happy about. Unless the devil's taking applications for servants." He couldn't even believe he was arguing that. Theology wasn't what he came here for, though he probably should have expected it unavoidable.

He took a step forwards - then another. Slowly, he approached the transept, though he came to a stop a distance away from the other man.

"What I want..." There was a brief pause, one almost imperceptible - but no doubt noticed by Crane. (And his new 'friend', probably.) "...what I want is to see you without your 'mask', for once."

No accusation of guilt - that didn't need to be said. He'd seen how Crane reacted to someone calling him at fault. This was...

This was something else. An incitement in its own way, though it wasn't prompted with the twisting of his tongue he'd grown to associate with the ability. The words he'd just spoken were fully his own.

"Unlike you, I don't need my mask to be myself."

Crane alleges immediately. He opens his book again and begins reading, and doesn't pay Robert much attention. The allegation of servitude was a ridiculous one and he would not bother wasting his time refuting it. He had not attempted to straighten the community's opinions - because he did not care about them. Their opinions. Their lives. Both were things to be analyzed.

Though he is aware of Robert's presence. His head tilts left, slightly. Calling him over to sit down and rest up.

This was not out of concern or politeness. Emotions were involved in both, and he lacked the capability for either. He wasn't concerned by it. The life he was living had always been his own.

Ha, ha. "So what do you call the show you've been putting on for everyone these months?" he asked, moving forwards after a few more considering seconds. If he could navigate Crane's wordplay, he might be able to learn something - as much as he'd had trouble with it over the months, perhaps even being manipulated by it without realizing...

Knowing was half the battle, or so the chime went.

Robert's eyes never moved from Crane as he made to sit down, his wariness and discomfort more than balanced by his need to know. To understand.

Being true to himself had been the standard he'd set for himself since his childhood; when he'd stepped into the manor's library and eavesdropped on his great-grandmother concocting her brew - which she'd applied to the scarecrow in the cornfields. Much as he'd been shocked by both, they had removed the veil from the world outside.

Fear, knowledge and control. They were the three great powers in this world, and now he had come to this alternate reality and discovered the same.

"An experiment. Acting is one of my lesser talents." There's no self-deprecation in Scarecrow's tone, as he flashes a boyish smile. Crane and Scarecrow. One and the same. "Am I to blame for everybody's naivety? Hardly."

Edited 2015-08-22 17:50 (UTC)

If there was any remaining doubt, any belief that Jonathan Crane might have been innocent - it burns to ashes at the response. Which, in a sense, was what Callaghan wanted; to have any remaining reason to believe in this man destroyed.

Nothing to keep him from seeing how much of a fool he's been, now.

"And sending Hiro to kill me? Was that part of your experiment?"

No smile in Robert's own face -no humor. Just an intent, and his drive - the same sort that drove him to make a choice, those months ago back in his home world, and to continue on that path to the end.

He sends his eyes into the eaves and rafters, stained glass windows that shine light on the alter - any place that highlights the fact this is a church. His voice rings out in the silence.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

His voice holds no warmth; his tone no judgement. There's just the itching need to see what shall happen. Between them, he wasn't the only one to make sinful decisions - and he had only operated indirectly.

Oh, for god's sake- is this how they were going to play? Callaghan allows some of his frustration through in a snort of derision, reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

"He tried to kill himself in the process. He wouldn't have chosen either - he already had chances, before you came along." The fact that Robert is here, talking about them, should say everything else. "And Gogo? What did you do to her?"

Or rather - what hadn't he done? Robert lowers his hand, expression darkening even further.

"What even was the point of all that?"

The point was to plant a seed of knowledge and watch it grow.

Crane slides his fingers together and taps his thumbs. The one he'd buried within Gogo had blossomed quickly for a short moment in time - it's own seeds had spread and rooted in the hearts of others. They were now growing rampantly. Robert's presence oppoite him proved that.

But it neither Hiro nor Gogo he'd fielded cryptic statements for. He chooses to ignore Robert's questions.

"I was talking about you," he says softly, "It's convenient that here, today, you've forgotten your attempts on their lives. And their friends? And how many were injured and killed at that finale of yours?"

Hardly. But he wasn't going to field this, either. "I think we've spoken enough about me, these past few months." More than enough, all told. He'd trusted Crane with things he'd told few others, if any, and the apparent reward for that trust was to have it used against...

Something twists within him. Have his 'sins' been aggravated by everything he's spoken being used against the others from his world? (At least Krei isn't here to rub it in.)

"My 'count' still pales in comparison to yours. Are you pleased with your work?"

Crane's eyes dart to Robert. There is more to his work than pleasure - Crane is his work. There will never be a conclusion because his research will be done till the day he dies. He leans back in his chair and slides his hands down the book. His fingers curl over it's edge, and the emotionless calm on his face doesn't shift under the contempt barely hidden in Robert's tone.

He breathes in deeply, and he pulls up his shoulders.

"What a fascinating question. Would you be asking such if you were pleased with yours?"

As much as he is curious about the book, more pressing is Crane finally turning a bit more attention towards him. At least, outwardly so. He's probably putting in the facade of nonchalance for his own arrogance...

"Mine wasn't an experiment." The contempt comes out in full force as he continues; "I don't experiment with people, and never like that."

Edited 2015-08-22 21:48 (UTC)

That nonchalance isn't a result of Crane's arrogance. He doesn't feel scared - Robert's presence here has been accounted for, as have his reactions. There will never be a moment that makes his knees shake and his hands tremble. He pulls back his feet and crosses his ankles. Robert's mind is steeped in fear. He's frightened by his own monstrous behavior, and of retribution - otherwise why would he seek redemption?

It isn't fair. He wants to feel it too.

His calm swagger perseveres in the face of Robert's contempt.

"No. You just outright try to kill them."

A tightening of the jaw. A narrowing of the eyes. It's a hit - but instead of recoiling, Robert curls his lip and holds his proverbial ground.

"Better that than torturing them."

Crane flips open his book and slides his index finger down the page. His eyes keep low. The novel has his attention for a while, till they half-close.

"You're applying your standards again. It's getting tiresome."

Right. Crane's are clearly, and have been different from his own all this time. Robert's contempt only intensifies as he pushes, but there's an air of honest bafflement to his next words-

"Why don't you come out with yours, then? What could possibly have made it all worth..." He trails off with another sound, gesturing out towards the church - and beyond.

What was so important to Jonathan Crane that he'd be willing to do it only hide here from the storm that no doubt awaits him outside its walls?

The novel is preferable to the show Robert tries performing for his benefit. There's too little anger. There's a need for revenge but he cannot find the lines in Robert's face. He inhales slowly; he'd expected a fascinating study, but this was like watching a disobedient child behaving himself. Like how Granny had wanted him to misbehave so she had the excuse to beat him till he bled.

Robert had come for answers. He could think of nothing worse than slamming the door in the man's face. But there was one answer he could give that might horrify and free that anger at the same time.

"I wanted to learn everything about them. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their fears. It was quite fascinating, really.

If Crane wanted a reaction, then he got one; the association to learning, to something so vital to Robert's life, and the connection back to Crane's machinations...

Robert's face twisted in to an ugly expression just shy of a snarl.

"You utter piece of shit."

Crane's face held onto his unshakable calm. The truth had been given, as requested. It cannot be his fault that Robert is struggling to accept it. He thinks about how the man had sought his company. Theatre shows and conversation. His opinion had been sought for a series of problems. He had been observing Robert. Learning about him; every dark and shameful secret that he was scared to unwrap.

His cold, clinical stare shows that's still the case. Robert had enjoyed their intellectual talks. He hadn't enjoyed such things for a while.

"You're disappointed."

"Considering I had thought you were actually-" Respectable? Worth his time? Robert floundered for words a moment, then settled for not quite grousing, "decent, yes. All this time, you were planning some sort of catastrophe just for this- dreams and fears stupidity?"

It wasn't even the betrayal of trust - well. It was, in part. But for something so stupid, so pointless...!

"Amongst other reasons, yes."

Those being the sheer pleasure of having every. single. person. under his thumb, subject to his power. A power he had created with his own intelligence. It had stripped them of physical control and thrown open the doors of their minds. It had connected them to the oldest and greatest of emotions, and blessed them with a new look at the truth.

It really was about his sheer pleasure in watching them hurt, though. It was good revenge.

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i don't want you back - i can't deal with that

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