Jonathan Crane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
restingstitchface) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2015-11-02 04:01 pm
restingstitchface) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-11-02 04:01 pm
They're callin' again
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.]
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.]
no subject
... You're making him sound as old as moss. [Age. Development. Maturity. Now he begins scratching the back of his neck.] Though I confess I currently live alone in my home. They've never seen somebody like me before. [He says nothing for a while, then gently slips in.] Falcone was the last of his kind, I suppose. Now there's the Batman and all...
[Joker hasn't stepped in the spotlight, yet. Imagine that.]
no subject
Are you serious? It's just you and the Bat? No Joker or Ivy or Harvey or Eddie or Jervis or nobody? And don't act like Falcone even counts. We're a whole different level.
no subject
He'd spoken to the Bat who'd understood, of course. Falcone and the mafia were nothing. Pathetic men who deluded themselves. They believed they understood fear and thought they could control it.
Control him, who was its master.
There's a cold, detached look in his eyes at the memory of hearing that fat rat scream his lungs hoarse. Icy, controlled cruelty. A spark of the man he could be. He could chide Harley; he knows Falcone is nothing - but that look in his eyes? It's a message by itself.
The names she'd given meant nothing. But there is one other name to mention. Should he mention it? Should he not? Oh, well, who cares?]
No. Nobody except Ra's al Ghul, I'm afraid.
no subject
no subject
No. But he's amused nonetheless. Her childlike exhuberance... it's charming in its own way.]
You know, Miss Quinzel, I believe that's the most accurate psychiatric analysis you've given anyone thus far.
[Congratulations.]
no subject
no subject
[He's trying so hard to look aloof.]
You'll have to make allowances for the place I come from. It seems I came in before my time.
no subject
You're on the edge of a whole new world, babe.
no subject
Yes, well, that's if I can get out of this dump.
[Can he do it? Others have not.]