Jonathan Crane (
restingstitchface) wrote in
maskormenacelogs2016-02-06 03:24 pm
I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled.
WHO: Crane and OPEN.
WHERE: Crane's residence and Nonah.
WHEN: Feb 1st - Feb 9th.
WHAT: Jonathan is attending court-mandated appointments. Catch-all log.
WARNINGS: None foreseen.
A: Crane's residence
[Crane hasn't gone unwatched since his experiment last August. He imagines both real and digital eyes have been on him since his freedom had been regained in November. They have been watching him in fear; terrified of his unknown intentions; in awe of his work. The raw power of his intelligence had brought him to the forefront of their minds. His name would never be forgotten. He had controlled their raw fear and inflicted it on them. He had controlled them by controlling their emotions. Controlling their emotions, he had been in control of everything.
He won't remain unwatched once his parole expires in two weeks. It had been apparant within a few minutes of first tasting freedom that he would be subject to intense scrutiny. So he had played along. Other than those willing to visit and indulge him in what they called insanity, he had been compliant. Compliant with the court. Compliant with his court-mandated treatment.
Compliant during treatment was another matter, but that could wait.
He leans back against his chair and sits quietly. He had opened the front door to his guest and followed them into his sitting room. Anyway, his eyes are cold and his face free of emotion. Thoughts are hidden behind that calm facade; curiosity, mostly. He needs to know what makes his visitor tick. He wants to use his control. He tilts his head in an appraising way. This person seems eager to pry. Quid pro quo. That's fair, right? He leans forward and flashes a boyish smile at his visitor.]
Come now. Standing in a man's home is no way to behave. Please sit down.
B: Uptown Nonah
[Demure. Quiet. Crane had rarely been one to speak up at Arkham. Everyone worked around him. They had learned to fear his authority and his sharpness. Orderlies and members of security who had thought to challenge his medical authority had been dealt with. The reversal in fortune had not been without consequences. They had dropped his title. He had swallowed his annoyance. They had jeered. Taunted.
But he had kept his silence.
Now he stands just outside one of Nonah's clinics, a private psychiatric practice, seeking some solitary time before heading in. Every time he walked through that door, they wanted him to talk about his childhood. He had never been forthcoming with those who engaged him with sympathy. But he had controlled the conversation as much as he could manage. A discussion of his childhood had become a discussion about his love of literature, the enjoyment of Joyce and Huxley and Orwell. So they had asked him why he had been attracted to fear as an emotion; questioned what sparked his fascination. So he had spoken of control and power, spiced with a bit of religious fervor. Presented himself differently to what they imagined. Then gone back to his demure, harmless self. One occasion had seen them ask what frightened him - a laugh and a moment later, and that question was turned around.
Things had become more difficult lately, mind. But he would adapt. A moment passes before he's aware of someone watching him - he hears their footfalls and gives a short sigh. He folds his arms and lightly drums his fingers.]
Good morning.
[If it's the afternoon, he hasn't noticed.]
III: Wildcard
[Hit me up with whatever you like! Crane is only permitted outside to attend court-mandated appointments; his probation officer and medical requirements. Please bear this in mind.]
WHERE: Crane's residence and Nonah.
WHEN: Feb 1st - Feb 9th.
WHAT: Jonathan is attending court-mandated appointments. Catch-all log.
WARNINGS: None foreseen.
A: Crane's residence
[Crane hasn't gone unwatched since his experiment last August. He imagines both real and digital eyes have been on him since his freedom had been regained in November. They have been watching him in fear; terrified of his unknown intentions; in awe of his work. The raw power of his intelligence had brought him to the forefront of their minds. His name would never be forgotten. He had controlled their raw fear and inflicted it on them. He had controlled them by controlling their emotions. Controlling their emotions, he had been in control of everything.
He won't remain unwatched once his parole expires in two weeks. It had been apparant within a few minutes of first tasting freedom that he would be subject to intense scrutiny. So he had played along. Other than those willing to visit and indulge him in what they called insanity, he had been compliant. Compliant with the court. Compliant with his court-mandated treatment.
Compliant during treatment was another matter, but that could wait.
He leans back against his chair and sits quietly. He had opened the front door to his guest and followed them into his sitting room. Anyway, his eyes are cold and his face free of emotion. Thoughts are hidden behind that calm facade; curiosity, mostly. He needs to know what makes his visitor tick. He wants to use his control. He tilts his head in an appraising way. This person seems eager to pry. Quid pro quo. That's fair, right? He leans forward and flashes a boyish smile at his visitor.]
Come now. Standing in a man's home is no way to behave. Please sit down.
B: Uptown Nonah
[Demure. Quiet. Crane had rarely been one to speak up at Arkham. Everyone worked around him. They had learned to fear his authority and his sharpness. Orderlies and members of security who had thought to challenge his medical authority had been dealt with. The reversal in fortune had not been without consequences. They had dropped his title. He had swallowed his annoyance. They had jeered. Taunted.
But he had kept his silence.
Now he stands just outside one of Nonah's clinics, a private psychiatric practice, seeking some solitary time before heading in. Every time he walked through that door, they wanted him to talk about his childhood. He had never been forthcoming with those who engaged him with sympathy. But he had controlled the conversation as much as he could manage. A discussion of his childhood had become a discussion about his love of literature, the enjoyment of Joyce and Huxley and Orwell. So they had asked him why he had been attracted to fear as an emotion; questioned what sparked his fascination. So he had spoken of control and power, spiced with a bit of religious fervor. Presented himself differently to what they imagined. Then gone back to his demure, harmless self. One occasion had seen them ask what frightened him - a laugh and a moment later, and that question was turned around.
Things had become more difficult lately, mind. But he would adapt. A moment passes before he's aware of someone watching him - he hears their footfalls and gives a short sigh. He folds his arms and lightly drums his fingers.]
Good morning.
[If it's the afternoon, he hasn't noticed.]
III: Wildcard
[Hit me up with whatever you like! Crane is only permitted outside to attend court-mandated appointments; his probation officer and medical requirements. Please bear this in mind.]

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