They're callin' again

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Crane and open.
WHERE: A jail, prison, in Maurtia Falls. Call it as you like.
WHEN: Four weeks during November.
WHAT: Crane loves having visitors. If your character wants to come and tell him he's a piece of trash through plexiglass, let's do that. A disappointment? It's all good. Should they want to seek his advice for some nefarious scheme, let's do that too. But don't clue in the guards.
WARNINGS: Crane is here, saying Crane things. So, though he's powerless, visitors are likely to see this develop into an impromptu session. Visitors will find their powers are nullified.


I | CARL | 11/2


[It had been so easy to find his test subjects. So, so easy - and none of them had realized it!

His lips smirk slightly and he gently folds his hands in his lap. It's easy to pick out the weak-minded from the figurative haystack of the network. Open the doors of their imagination and leave slivers of fear inside. Make their minds twist in horror. Not a single one could exist in silence. It would be terrifying and cruel. He would force them all to see how empty and meaningless their lives were, and then drive them all towards him for answers. To hope their fears would cease when they see he is nothing but a man.

But he's more than Jonathan Crane. Plans come alive in his mind;

In here, they believe him powerless. They couldn't be more wrong. His eyes dart around; right, left, up and down. These walls cannot hold him. He wields the considerable power of his mind and his insight. All he is doing is collecting his thoughts and biding his time. His eyes are half-closed in thought as he says nothing about his latest visitor for a good while. To have this freedom - to not care about the consequences - is so liberating that he doesn't feel like speaking at first. But eventually he has to.]

Good afternoon, Carl. Today I thought we could discuss something you like to talk about. [A pause] I know; why don't you share your thoughts about your relationship with your adoptive father? I would be highly interested in hearing your thoughts.


II | HARLEY | 11/3


[Crane sits alone in the box-sized interview room. It has been four weeks since his imprisonment. Twenty-eight days since he's felt the natural wind. Nearly two months since his - Dr. Crane's - interment. No, nine, he reminds himself. Time flows here. Nine months; the process of birth. He had been alone in Arkham with his thoughts; held in isolation and separated from other patients. He had said no words and rebuilt himself. Integrated his own desires and needs, rather than keep them at arm's length or behind a mask. He had let the shadow - all his fear - take him over. He had suddenly found his own field of view narrowly limited - but at the same time it had given him a new perspective.

The harsh flourescence of the overhead light strip casts Crane in shadow - giving his pale skin a pallor. He tilts his head and carefully eyes his visitor. The ice-blue eyes he stares with aren't the eyes of Dr. Crane any longer. Scarecrow or Crane. One or the other... or both?]

There's no need to be so quiet. This isn't home, after all.


III | OPEN - WILDCARD | 11/2-30


[Feel free to write your own starters!

Crane's a dick. If he can deny your character a visit because it'll press them under his thumb, he will. Feel free to assume this has happened for your tags. He'll agree to a session if they're persistent. If your character wants to yell at him for this, pester his inbox. If your character prefers a video call over a face-to-face encounter, especially if they're a minor, log it here as a video conference.]

Comments

[takethestairs]

[Edgeworth blinks and jerks back, just ever so slightly, his reflexes betraying him. His eyes widen as soon as he catches himself, and he furrows his brow as he moves back to his previous position. Crane is speaking nonsense, but the threat that he'll be out soon is as clear as day]

Do you know what the most frightening thing in the world is, Jonathon?

[First Edgeworth had dropped his title. Now he dares to use his given name. The lack of respect is clear and calculated]

[restingstitchface]

[That's the frightening thing about nonsense. People cannot understand it. It raises their anxiety. Their small minds are terrified that something is coming, but they cannot identify what. It's the human fear of the unknown, and it makes for a fascinating study.

He avoids eye contact in boredom. That study sounds more promising than Miles's blatant disrespect. His fingers tap the desk and his lips press into a thin line. The movements are clear in sending a message; he's unimpressed by Miles puffing himself up.]

Well, it's different for me than it is for you. [It's nothing for him.] But try to frighten me. Come on. It's quite cute of you, to tell the truth.

[takethestairs]

Oh, I'm not trying to frighten you.

[He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, tilting his head at him]

I genuinely want to know. What do you think is the most frightening thing to people? What do you think is the root of fear? Of all fears?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane mirrors Edgeworth for a third time; he crosses his arms and reclines in his chair. But his head tilts to the opposite side.]

Well, individuals have fears that are both unique and commonplace. Perhaps you are asking of people as a whole? You should know there are common phobias and collective fears.

[He's silent for a while as he contemplates something.]

There's something to be said about the human need for survival. That from necessity the fear response generates appropriate behavioral responses for keeping us safe and warm. [Safe and warm. Puns. Still, it's safer for him to embrace fear than to let it go.] Such changes in brain and organ function have been preserved for us through evolution, so it's quite necessary.

Lovecraft said the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. Do you know the difference between fear and anxiety, Miles?

[takethestairs]

[Edgeworth shoots Crane a glare when he mentions warmth, and fears rage rising up through his veins. He digs his fingers into his sleeves and breathes in harshly, reining his temper in, and forcing himself to keep his composure.

Then Crane mentions anxiety. He scrunches his brow together again, eyes narrowing as he tries to puzzle out where Crane is going with this.]

Anxiety - that's the physical manifestation of fear, isn't it?

[restingstitchface]

Not at all.

[His tone is invasive and cuts like a knife once Miles is finished. He denotes Miles's physical adjustments and micro-reactions and naturally keeps his composure.]

The two are closely related, but fear is the emotion induced by imminent danger; heart-stopping, mind-burning terror. Anxiety is the result of uncontrollable, unavoidable threats. Now, what do you think I'd like to do to you right now?

[takethestairs]

[He goes on the defensive as soon as Crane spits his response back, and he glares back, staring him in the eye as he leans forward again]

I can think of several things you would like to do right now.

[He keeps his voice quiet, low, and firm, something that cannot be swayed by threats and insinuation]

However, you can't. You're powerless here, Crane. And even when you're released, you still will not have a fraction of the strength you did before. We're onto you. We know who you are. We know what you are. We know your tricks, and we know what games you play.

You're like a movie monster who, up until the climax, was kept in the shadows. And oh, you were frightening, back when you were cloaked in mystery. But now the climax has come and gone, and now that we know what it is and how it works, it's not nearly as frightening as before. You've lost your power, Crane. You're worthless now.

[restingstitchface]

What lovely posturing.

[He keeps his voice calm, fluid and warm, curious about the motive behind Edgeworth's reaction. It's the same as when he had doused him in petrol and ignited his lighter.]

Come on, Miles. Pay attention. Did I not say fear is brought about by imminent danger? The loss of life. The loss of limb. The loss of skin. [He is a fiery whirlwind of puns.] One simple message and you all panicked and ran around chasing your own tails. There are plenty here who fear me and you know it. Try again.

always with the puns

[takethestairs]

[He seethes again when Crane mentions skin, but his scowl is brief, and he schools his expression so Crane sees nothing but cool neutrality. He's not going to let Crane rattle him. He's not going to give him what he wants.]

You don't have the resources you once did, nor do you have the privacy or the position to experiment. I hope you don't expect to get away with your old tricks, Doctor.

[restingstitchface]

[Crane shows no emotion, but he tilts his head and stares at his lap. His behavior doesn't acknowledge Miles' presence in the room. He seems self-reflective.]

I hope you don't expect to frighten me with your words, Miles.

[Look how much he cares about having all those eyes on him. He's had them on him longer than you can know.]

[takethestairs]

[He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, leaning back in his seat]

I don't expect you to feel much of anything, to be honest. Not without any of your toys, anyway. There's not much you can do here, is there? You might be able to make an idle threat or two, and you've certainly had a grand old time harassing your patients. But it's not very satisfying, is it?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane does the same; he clicks his tongue in his cheek and reclines in his chair. There's no shaking of the head, mind. His gaze is calm and level.]

It lacks the finesse of my intimate projects, but satisfaction comes in several forms. I don't expect you to understand.

[Not in relation to him. Not personally. That'd be ridiculous.]

[takethestairs]

[This visit had been useless. Completely fruitless. Or...hmn. Perhaps not completely fruitless. Crane still has other projects going, or so Edgeworth assumes. He should leave this place and investigate elsewhere, before Crane can get further under his skin.]

No, I suppose I don't. Good day, Crane.

[And without another word, he gets up from his seat, not giving him a single glance]