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[Crane sits at the opposite end of the table with all the fear of a child caught in a lie. Nothing had been said when he returned from school. His grandmother had simply cooked their dinner and called him downstairs. Now she sits opposite, drinking her soup without asking about his day.

Until she addresses him coldly, prompting him to pay attention.]

I had a most peculiar call from your school today, Jonathan. Reports into your behavior - substandard as usual - but also comments about your grades. Best in the class. How charmingly arrogant. Cheat our way to the top, did we?

[His first response is to freeze. But his mind fights back and his words burst out after a second. Please, I worked hard.]

Liar. So like your mother, aren’t you? It is a miracle I took you in at all after the whore abandoned you.

[There is a third place at the table; set with a superior collection of bread compared to the paltry scraps beside his plate. He treats the presence of this person as though he is invisible. Just as he is inside this house.]

[ooc: backdated to event.]

[Chris found Crane's house. Which he was quite sure Crane did not want him in. He found himself stuck, watching, listening like a voyeur, at a conversation he was sure was meant to be private. Still, he couldn't make himself stop. years of skulking in shadows had made it a habit.

He recognized the boy as a younger version of Crane. And his grandmother? Was kind of a giant bitch.]

I think I was about the same age when I moved in with my grandfather.
[And yet Grandpa never treated him like that. For the short time he was alive.]

You can't even be proud of him can you? For anything.

[He knew how that felt, when all you wanted was a little glimmer of hope, that someone saw you for you and not the inferior product you were. His heart sank a little in understanding. In many ways, Crane and Chris were very, very similar. ]

Edited 2024-11-05 01:15 (UTC)

[The chink of metal touching porcelain disturbs the room. Marion sets her spoon against her plate and studies Chris with a stare that is all too familiar in the present. Cold, distant and superior.]

Spare the rod, spoil the child.

[She recites by rote before drinking more soup. It is a phrase she enjoys repeating and Crane recalls her reciting it in other dreams.]

Pride is nothing but lying and Jonathan knows how to lie. Don't you, boy?

[His memory is good enough to know that is not what she says to her friends at dinner parties. He heard her speak about teaching him the value of hard work and overheard her friends compliment his accomplishments. Lying to herself that she was responsible for all his work.

But he remains silent and refuses to answer. Too nervous, too afraid of testing the waters. He controls his emotions and maintains distance from the conversation.]

[For a brief moment Chris wonders if that look is genetic or learned? One might ask the same thing about his own snarky mannerisms.]

Or maybe, you're just a miserable giant cunt and all you know how to do is take it out on other people and make them just as miserable.

[One of these days, that mouth of his was going to get him into trouble. Was today the day Chris would get beaten up by Crane's grandmother? That's almost as bad as being killed by a pacifist.]

Lying is actually a really good skill. I don't suppose you have any experience there, do you? Having a good skill I mean, not lying.

[Chris is watching Crane as he speaks to the older woman, watching how he doesn't actually do anything. Kind of like him. Silent and unsure until it was too late to do anything. He tried speaking to him instead.]

You know, we could go somewhere, without this giant bitch? You take care of you. No one else is going to do it for you.

[Crane thinks of looking from Chris to Marion or from Marion to Chris. In the end, he looks at his soup. French onion and mushroom; he notes how it appears placid and plain without any depth of character. He knows he has to make himself as boring and unremarkable. Inoffensive on the outside and impossible to read.]

No, it's fine. I've learned to be patient.

[He will make the old woman fearful of walking around her own house. She will learn to fear his terrible vengeance, never knowing how or when it shall arrive. The possibility would have anyone sitting on the edge of their seat in excitement - but with his controlled mannerisms he can only drink his soup.

Or not. Crane lays his spoon back down. He dislikes eating in front of people.]

[Trying to make himself unassuming and unremarkable was also a skill Chris had. It helped him infiltrate the underworld, gain information. Then again, it was also easy to be unassuming when by comparison with everyone else? You yourself were kind of pathetic. But it looked like Crane had tried to master that. Learning to make himself as invisible as he could.

Maybe if Chris had been better at the entire thing he wouldn't be dead. Or Wyatt wouldn't have tried to kill him. But he didn't think he had it in him to be as good as Crane was. He just wasn't that good at anything.]

And what will you do after?

The same thing anybody else does when free.

[Earn a livelihood? Buy what they enjoy? Crane exhales for a moment and tries to identify his hobbies. Outside of reading, does he even have anything he enjoys? Were Chris to ask his favourite colour, could he even begin to answer? Red or blue? Green or white? He can name his favourite books but reading them is becoming less enjoyable. He needs to devote himself to his studies. Education is what will free him from this hellhole.

Ten second before he looks ready to talk. Twelve before he responds.]

Well, at least I'll do something.

[He looks too nervous about telling his guest he might read a book. Or stuff his face with trinkies and drink a crate of soda.]

[Actually Chris meant 'what are you going to do to your goddamn grandmother' but that worked too. Maybe Crane would just wait for her to die. Personally, Chris thought that was an absolutely horrible option, but he wasn't Crane.]

Yeah, I don't know the answer to that question either. What do you do when you're free....

[It was something he had never really thought of. He didn't think he'd have a future, much less have to plan for one. What did one do when they were free? To live and have fun? Hell if he knew. Then again, he was pretty sure that was one of Crane's early assignments. He was still....working on it.]

Does she ever actually.....feed you?

[Crane frowns in thought and stares at Chris. What words are those? Words that emphasise his frail and scrawny body. Mocking and derisive, consoling and sympathetic. He closes his eyes and inhales to settle his nerves. He has entertained the taller and stronger man long enough.]

Well, what you see is what you get.

[Words that his future self understands are false. But in this case they are true.]

It's enough.

[He knows he could be sent to his room with nothing. He has learned to take what he can get.]

[Chris was bad at words, not making words form, that was easy. It was actually saying something intelligible that was also thought through that was the hard part. He hadn't actually considered that his words might be taken harshly. Then again, he also hadn't thought getting his parents divorced would affect his own conception. Go figure.

He rolled his eyes at the teenage Crane. Please.]

Look, I wish I could tell you it gets better. But honestly? People just get better at being jerks and find different ways to hurt others. I guess you've figured that out already. And you've learned to pick your battles.

[Chris had done the same thing. Clear, singular focus. On an idea, that was brought on by a singular person. A single catastrophic event. Or rather a cascade. Which brought Chris to his next question.]

Why are you with your grandmother?

[There were only a few answers to this question. His parents were dead. His parents were in prison. He was abandoned. He was stolen.]

[The question prompts Crane to seek his grandmother. He knows little about his parents and thinks she might intercede on his behalf. But she responds with a stern and cold frown that freezes his curiosity and shatters it to pieces. He shrinks in his chair, looking even shorter than usual. One answer is on his lips, only to be replaced by a second, a third. He cannot understand why he is here.]

I don't know.

[Why did his father abandon his family? Why did his mother leave him with this old woman? It isn't fair.]

It's because they didn't want you, Jonathan.

[There is no concern or pity in Marion's voice.]

[Chris turned to Marion, absolutely disgusted and furious. It's too bad Crane's never seen Piper mad or annoyed, because Chris is wearing the same expression.]

You know what? One more word out of you and I will literally turn you into a toad and keep you as a pet.

[It was either that or seal her mouth shut and honestly the toad thing had more shock value. He turned back to Crane.]

Now I don't know you're parents, but I'm pretty sure your grandmother over there deserves to be run over by a truck, so don't listen to a word she says.

Edited 2024-11-05 04:21 (UTC)

[Crane observes the exchange with no expression or emotion; all the while experiencing no small amount of loathing. The threat is unsought and unwelcome. He longs to be able to raise his voice, to howl in rage. But he is too weak and small. Retribution should not come by the hand of God but his own. But that day has yet to come. And it will come.

He turns his gaze towards his soup.

Calm. Emotionless. Still.

Patient.

He is not listening to a word anybody says.]

[Chris arches an eyebrow at Crane, who.....isn't doing anything. That is really not the reaction he expected. At all. But, he had been raised by rather fiery, sarcastic types, and that kind of language would have gotten a reaction. Should have gotten a reaction.

How does he react when someone doesn't react? Chris lifts up a lip, absolutely puzzled by Crane staring at his soup.]

Nothing? I just threatened to run over your grandma and you got nothing?

[Crane inhales and rests in peace; his control perfect enough to be worrying. He straightens his back and clings to the order of his routine. His spoon is laid to rest and he clenches his hands together upon his lap.]

I already took care of it.

[Does he realise the implications of that in this dream? Perhaps not.]

[Nocwich is a place he frequents less and less. His last visit was one year ago; there is no reason to explore or tour. He only came to collect rare ingredients and meet people from other territories. But the summoned are predictable and boring so he remains in the Free Cities. Libertas in particular has provided everything he needs.

He is here not out of necessity but curiosity. Ever since those alternative years, he has been itching more and more to escape from everything and everyone. But Nocwich is still too full of noise. People selling their wares. People selling their opinions. He listens to one with a look that could sour milk.]

Politics? I hate politics.

[Perhaps the other person dragged into in this conversation has a different opinion?]

[Daisy was just looking around at some of the locally made things for sale, not that she has the money to buy any of it, when she's suddenly roped into a debate she didn't sign up for.

Raising her hands in defense when she's asked about her opinion, Daisy shakes her head.]

I'm still new here, I don't think you want to get into this with me.

Now, this might surprise you, but I agree with her.

[Crane maintains his attention on the stall; his gaze trawling over protective amulets and candles while his mind focuses on the other person dragged into this boring conversation. He says nothing until the local has wandered out of earshot.]

Perhaps you should watch who you meet in future. Not everybody here is welcoming of people like us.

[Daisy watches the local leave, her expression remaining neutral even as they turn around to scowl at them.]

I wasn't trying to meet anyone.

[She says, defensive when she thinks he's accusing her of starting something.]

Edited 2024-11-24 17:23 (UTC)

[Do you suppose he cares what you think?/i> Knowing those words are too adversarial - few welcome a challenge - he feigns understanding. He keeps a respectful distance, close but not uncomfortably so, and purchases a pouch of powder. He noticably avoids talking during the sale, his words coming only when the seller is busy inspecting his item.]

Neither was I. But here we are.

[The irony is enough to make him smile.]

[Daisy watches as he picks up a pouch of something, trying to read the name of it before he hands it off to the vendor to buy.]

Sounds like you've had a lot of experience with people here making their opinions known.

[The name might be familiar to anyone from earth - hypericum perforatum - who has studied medicine. He deposits it inside his satchel, allowing a glimpse of bundles of herbs and roots.]

At this point, they hardly bother me.

[Irrelevent people with ignorant opinions are a waste of time. But this woman he remembers. From another place and another time, far beyond linear understanding. He watches hawkishly for a moment, weighing facts and opinions, judging the threat she might pose. His hands clasp protectively across his stomach, a barrier for those who understand.]

Daisy, isn't it? Dr. Jonathan Crane. I believe we met. In stranger circumstances, of course.

[What's more awkward than putting it right out there?]

Edited 2024-12-05 21:08 (UTC)

[The name on the pouch isn't familiar at all to her, but the name he gives her is...

Vaguely familiar, at least. Brows knitting together as she tries to think of where she met him, her gaze roams his face in an attempt to jog her memory. It's not until he mentions that the circumstances they met in were strange that it hits her.]

Jonathan?

[Daisy repeats, moving out of the way when someone walks between them to get to the front of the stalls.]

...I don't understand.

[Daisy assumed that the reason she had connected with Claire in her dreams was because they had met prior.]

[Crane pulls back, patient and polite, though he fills the same space as soon as the new customer moves further along the stall. He secures his wares, refusing to move until he fastens his satchel and finishes his business. His new spot is one step away from hers: or maybe three considering how he dislikes being brushed by others.]

Well, neither did I at first.

[He is evidently older but remains skin and bones inside his clothes.]

I would say think nothing of it but that is too on the nose. So perhaps what I could say is... thank you.

[For listening? For being there? Let her mind invent a reason.]

[He looks so much older than when she first saw him. Does it even count as a first meeting? Daisy has a silent debate with herself, her mind whirling as she tries to make sense of any of this.

Thank you. It's not a phrase she's heard directed at her in a while, and her expression probably gives that away.]

I didn't--

[Daisy trails off, unsure how to respond to such a confusing situation.]

That wasn't real. Was it?

[She hopes not. For a multitude of reasons.]

[His mind awakes to the change in demeanour, alerted by her confusion. He purses his lips and considers her question for a good while.]

I think it was.

[But his voice is soft and thoughtful. He considers explaining their meeting was real because they were conscious for the experience; meeting in yet another world. But that topic hardly interests him.]

Does it frighten you? It terrified me at first. But the more I contemplate it, the less frightening it feels. Perhaps because of you.

[It had never frightened him. And she had never settled his fears. But he will lie and lie again.]

[Swallowing thickly when he believes that what they had experienced was real, Daisy isn't sure how to respond. Not until he asks her if it's frightened her.]

I don't like the idea of others showing up in my dreams, or--

[She hesitates, wondering if it had been more than that. Like it had been when with Claire.]

Memories.

[Which she fears might be the case with him. Her expression softens when he admits to feeling less scared with her there, and there's this weird feeling of a connection there.]

[Crane murmurs thoughtfully. Offering agreement with one hand, attention with the other. He lands her worries a listening ear and finds it easy on this occasion: because on this matter they are united. There is little fondness for what she witnessed of his past.]

Well, even though you saw mine, I promise I won't ask you to show me yours.

[Will that be enough to allay her discomfort? A touch of humour? Perhaps not. Perhaps it makes things awkward. But hadn't he been an awkward sort of child?]

[Not really, but she does smile tightly at his attempt at a joke. Even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes.]

Gotta admit, this is the weirdest way I've met someone.

Look at it this way: it could have been worse.

[The light reaches his eyes; a strange expression clouding over the matter of how and where they met. He has moved on since those dark days. Obviously done well for himself.]

But I think we can probably change the subject now. I haven't seen you around here before.

[Could've been worse. It's true, but the way she found him...

It was pretty bad. She doesn't think he needs to hear that, after all, he lived through it. So she's glad when he takes the initiative to change the subject.]

I only arrived a few months ago. How long have you been here?

[Crane hardly needs time to figure out dates.]

About two years. I would suggest preparing for the long haul, but I hardly want you trapped here as long.

[Wait. Did that sound like he wanted her to disappear?]

Please don't take it the wrong way. All I mean is. Well, it's not fun to be taken from home, is it?

[This conversation is going from one difficult conversation to another, and she breaks eye contact with him briefly when he mentions 'home'. In truth, she hasn't had a home for months now. Long before she came here.]

No. It's not.

[Her home, her--

She swallows thickly before looking to him again.]

I've met some people here longer than that. Sounds like it's all at random when we're returned to where we came from.

[By comparison, Crane keeps a level stare, his gaze refusing to waver. He observes her expression - that nervous swallowing of her throat - and swallows his own. The vulnerability they share. The emotion of empathy. Both a shield to hide pleasure and satisfaction. Better she be on the backfoot than thinking about his life.]

Well, when it comes to the journey home, by chance is the fairest reason of all. But we cannot give in to the fear of constantly asking when that shall be.

[He falls silent, knowing she knows he understands that better than most.]

[It's--

Strange, to the say the least, to hear him talk like this. The first time she met him, he was a young kid who was so closed off because of the trauma he had clearly experienced. She doesn't do a good job of hiding her expression of surprise at the wisdom he shares.]

No, we can't.

[Daisy says in agreement, clearing her throat when she finally realizes that her surprise might've come off as condescending.]

What territory are you living in?

Edited 2025-01-25 16:50 (UTC)

[Crane studies that expression of surprise, that nervous movement of her throat. Both highlight her being scared of being misunderstood; that something she said or did rubbed him the wrong way. But he smiles and shows her he is perfectly fine.]

The Free Cities. Though I reside in Libertas these days. Cadens feels a little too busy.

[You know? He hardly speaks colloquolly but one can imagine him rolling his shoulders.]

And where did this world spit you up?

I've heard that about Cadens before.

[The fact that they can't freely go to the different territories rings alarms for her, but she knows when to not question the way things are done here.

...Sometimes.]

I'm in Solvunn, which is very different to what I'm used to.

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Scraps | Chris

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Nocwich | Daisy

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