[ closed ]

[restingstitchface]

Who: Crane + Various
When: October
Where: Horizon
What: Meetings and Therapy
Warnings: None







Hello! Plot with me on safekeeping

Comments

[ chris ]

[restingstitchface]

[Sessions are booked and scheduled. Meetings planned and arranged. One client is exchanged for another, each face becoming a blur in the crowd. Personalities are observed and analysed. Problems are examined and assessed. People are directed and he is disappointed.

As it was thus, so it is now.

One more client fills the crowd. One more voice whines and complains. One becomes two, becomes three, becomes four, becomes five. Six minutes are spent observing a painting while he awaits his seventh client. But as much as he pretends they are clients, he thinks they are subjects.]

Enter.

[He does not move from his position and allows himself to be seen admiring a famous piece of art.]

[inferiority_complex]

[Well boy if you were looking for whining and complaining, the right guy just walked through your door. This was different than the last time he had seen Crane, but Chris supposed it was more professional or whatever. The furniture actually reminded him a bit of the Halliwell Manor. Except a little more stuffy. The manor always had a more airy feel to it. Actually, stopping to admire the wood tones and armchairs, he realized it reminded him of someplace else. And he hated it. He had been about to compliment him, and instead he just swallowed it, trying not to feel uncomfortable.]

Uh....nice choice of artwork.

[Seriously creepy. But he was never really an art person. He hadn't even finished high school.]

Hi. Want me to come back and leave you two alone?

[restingstitchface]

[Of course the painting has an effect. Of course the immature brat denies it. The leaves outside are brown and falling off the trees and of course he needs to defenestrate the boy and see the stain he makes on the gravel. But he keeps his gaze levelled at the painting and speaks without emotion.

Life rarely affords all you desire.]

No. Come here and tell me what strikes you about this painting.

[inferiority_complex]

I think if you want to talk art history you seriously got the wrong Halliwell.

[Sorry Prue, although the two of them might look alike and act alike, Chris did not inherit or acquire her love and knowledge of art. Not really having a choice, he walks over and takes a seat near Crane, looking up at the piece.

Honestly it made his heart beat a little faster looking at it. Chris caught himself holding his breath. The colors, the image. It was just. Creepy. Was it supposed to be creepy? Was that what made it art?]

Seriously? Okay. It's......makes me uncomfortable.

[restingstitchface]

Well, I can already see that. Have you lost the use of your legs?

[There is no need to turn and observe. One can feign laziness. One can act confident. But in the end those legs are refusing to stand because they are too tired to endure. His hands slide behind his back and clasp together. Unlike his charge, he appears unfased, comfortable with what the art suggests.]

There's nothing to fear about a painting. But a painting is open to interpretation, isn't it? Now, explain why it makes you uncomfortable.

[inferiority_complex]

[Chris rolled his eyes and sighed, utterly exasperated at the older man. Shoving himself up, he sulked and trudged back toward Crane, using his legs and crossing his arms across his chest.]

Happy now?

[Be glad Crane, he was only snarky to people he liked.]

The red sky is creeping me out.

[For someone who spent a good amount of time in the Underworld or dangling demons over the fiery pits, that was odd wasn't it?]

Do you always have it hanging here or is this an exercise?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane speaks while observing the painting: the red sky resembling a cry from nature. Be it a volcanic eruption or a child's whimper in the dark. He declines to offer physical attention as his cold and clinical voice cuts through nonsense.]

Why suppose you are my only client? Stop thinking of yourself as the centre of the world.

[In reality, the world is society: a web of connections where each strand twists and bends. Or is broken.]

Now, perhaps this is surprising to you, but perhaps it is hanging here because I like it.

[inferiority_complex]

[Honestly, yeah, the thought had crossed his mind. Not that he was your only patient but that you mixed up the paintings depending on your own thought process. Be grateful he thought so highly of you.]

Wow, did I hit a nerve there? Believe me, I am far from the center of the world. Or the universe, or whatever people think they revolve around. I do think that it would be an interesting exercise though.

[Why? Because it's exactly what he would do. Manipulate his charges into seeing his point of view. He totally hadn't learned his lesson just because he almost got killed and everyone he cared about.]

Tell me why you like it then? Same reason you became a psychiatrist? Or whatever kind of special degree you have?

[restingstitchface]

It is a reminder that we can be productive, regardless of our suffering. That we can produce great works irrespective of our despair. Or face the greatest challenges of our lives when we are too scared to face anything.

[Or anyone. In truth, he recognises the feelings of isolation, fear and loneliness. There is something deeply relatable about it for a man who struggles to relate to other people. It is a comforting depiction regardless of the terror depicted with every stroke of a brush.]

I find it convenient albeit benign for articulating painful and overwhelming feelings to my patients. It seems it just hits a nerve.

[His lips almost twist at the corners. Almost.]

[inferiority_complex]

So....suck it up and stop whining?

[Okay, that wasn't precisely what he thought Crane meant but, trust Chris to break it down to it's lowest possible denominators. And honestly, that's kind of what his family had been telling him for most of his life. Stop whining and get on with it. Crane just made it sound cool and honorable. Like the struggle against ones self was worth as much as a physical battle.

And then Crane used his own words against him. Chris scowled at him, annoyed (of course he was), that Crane got the upper hand.]

[restingstitchface]

[Crane turns his gaze upon his client. Cold and observant, patient and calculating.]

Mr. Halliwell. I think you react like a man who has heard that nonsense from family since you were a boy.

[A boy. A child. And an intelligent man will understand he means in the sense of time.]

Now, you can suck it up and stop whining as they suggest. Or you can swallow your frustration and achieve something in spite of them.

[inferiority_complex]

[Well fuck. Chris honestly didn't expect to be called out like that. He probably should have, Crane seems to be good enough at what he does. He felt the fight just kind of deflate out of him, and his legs yet again stopped working as he sank down on the nearby couch. He sighed audibly, muscles which had been tense relaxing a bit.]

Alright, you win. What do you want me to do?

[Because Crane was right. He was a hurt child acting out even as a twenty-three year old. He was still angry at his father for playing favorites, he was angry at his brother for the abuse, and he was angry at his entire family for abandoning him and telling him to just suck it up. ]

[restingstitchface]

[Progress. The joy of discovery and the thrill of control. Crane redirects his attention to the painting and ignores the pricking of his thumbs.]

Well, you can help yourself to a drink and stop taking yourself so seriously.

[Is there something unethical in how the only drinks available are whiskey and bourbon? He hardly cares. The man is an adult and makes his choices. Not that choices are ever your own.]

[ matt ]

[restingstitchface]

[The sky is grey and dark. The grounds cold and damp. Red, brown and golden bronze leaves cover the bases of oak and birch and clutter the path into the building. Beyond the gate, the setting sun is visible through streets and alleyways.

But Crane is watching none of it. He continues staring at his reflection while his guest enters his warm and welcoming office, kindled by a crackling fireplace. Opposite his green armchair are a red armchair and for those in the mood to recline, a couch.]

Take a seat.

[He doesn't turn around, yet.]

[catholica]

Thanks.

( he can clock that crane's not facing him by the way his voice sounds but he doesn't say anything about it. even in the horizon, he still uses the cane, sweeping it around until it butts against a chair that he eases himself into.

he's not really sure what to expect here even if he was the one who asked for the meeting. crane's an interesting person to speak with, keeps him on his toes so matt knows that he has to be ready for anything. )

Day going all right so far?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane observes his reflection; he notes the matching stare and lack of emotion. He misses the thrill of commiting a deviant act, the pleasure of hurting society. He inhales and holds his breath before turning on his heel, silently releasing his restless impatience.

Fortunately, there is irony in conversing with a lawyer, somebody who represents conformity. He settles into his green armchair, answering from a few meters away.]

Well, it could be better, not that I'm complaining.

[catholica]

Could be better?

( raising an eyebrow, matt sits back, wondering if there's a reason behind that or if it's just the way this place is. )

Anything going on or just the way this place can wear on you?

[restingstitchface]

No. I left behind some important work at home. In my case, a personal project that is difficult to replicate in these conditions. I can mirror it in the Horizon but should I trust the results?

[He rises within his armchar, straightening his back and bringing his ankles together. Prim. Proper. Polite.]

Perhaps not. A lawyer such as you surely understands the trouble of false data?

[False evidence. The loss of time, resources and reputation.]

[catholica]

I've definitely dealt with it before. Not recently. I'm not really considered a lawyer here.

( right now, he wasn't anything at all. )

If you want to reschedule so you can take care of the project, I'm okay with that.

[restingstitchface]

Of course you are.

[To reschedule would mean this man could escape this conversation. One about careers and work, about direction and purpose.

His voice remains calm while his hands link together on his lap.]

Now, perhaps you can explain what you are considered here? How do others know you? And does that align with how you see yourself?

[Do you have a role here, friend? Do you have a purpose?]

[catholica]

( right to it, huh? he sits back, letting the question process before he blows out a breath. )

Guess the honesty answer is that I don't know what I am. Others know me as...the blind guy, I guess.

( some knew him better than that. )

If you're looking for something deeper than that, I don't have it.

[restingstitchface]

[Crane looks unmoved by the physical act of breathing and the half-hearted confession.]

And I think you know you should. It's why you are here. Now, perhaps you should remember your own words: "I don't know what I am." You are ascribing value to what you are instead of who.

[He murmurs in thought.]

I'll let you answer that in your own time.

[Of course, it's a harder question than most realise.]

[catholica]

Doesn't everyone say things like that? It's not an easy question to figure out especially when you're ripped from one world and put into another.

( things change. relationships change, priorities change, responsibilities change. )

Do you have an answer to that question? Do you know who you are? Or whatever the better question is there?

[restingstitchface]

[There is no reply for a moment. Crane simply watches and awaits a better moment. Matt either wishes to relate from his experience or is projecting the issue. Perhaps both not that he realises it. Or perhaps he does. He is a lawyer, after all.]

Well, I think this world has a strange effect on our dreams. Normally, I would advise you to analyse your question from that perspective. But dreams in this world have a supernatural connotation.

[He grimaces and sighs.]

Perhaps you should consider your problem from the perspective of a man who is on borrowed time to find a solution. The world will ask who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you. Oh, you can be back home or at home in this world. It doesn't matter.

[catholica]

The world will tell me?

( he doesn't think he believes that. he's been in this world for years now and he hasn't been told anything. he listens, he listens a lot and he hasn't gotten an answer. )

I've been in this world for awhile now and I still haven't had a conversation that tells me who I am. I don't know if I'd listen anyway. This place doesn't seem like I should trust it.