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Who: Crane + James
When: December
Where: Horizon
What: First Meetings
Warnings: None

[The gate serves as a clear boundary between one realm and another: four gargoyles perched upon an ornamental arch overlooking a path. It travels a short distance, leading towards a distinctly gothic and ornamental hall whose windows are surrounded by frosted ivy. The gateway is an open shelter against the wind and snow, tolerable at best.

Crane approaches the gateway through a heavy layer of freezing fog; a whiteout that makes him difficult to spot until his footsteps are close enough to hear. He shakes out his umbrella and scatters the collected snow, now close enough to see the man huddled in the gateway.]

Would you like to come in out of the cold?

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[No response for a moment. Crane continues observes every expression, every wrinkle of the eyes, every swallow of the throat. He denotes each pause and connects everything to hesitation. Uneasy feelings arising from discomfort with a situation; usually once one is aware of inevitable failure or frustration. The mind returning to old patterns and old behaviours rather than face the challenge of growth and progress.

Stagnation. No progress. Difficult, isn't it?

He speaks quietly.]

Who?

( having been so trenched in the otherworld surely left a man with remnants of it. james had been so blind [and was] to how much that endless cycle of trying to find his wife, face his sins, and decide on an ending was affecting him. even here in a new world, his movements and words seemed to scream out what he was truly feeling-

much like the painting before him. so although he couldn't remember who, he did remember a name. there just wasn't an image of a person, place, or time attached to it. )

Mary.

( he said with a confidence he hadn't shown before, but it doesn't last long. james soon turned on his heel and faced crane directly with an expression that began to turn into one of confusion. )

Although...I don't know why. I can't seem to remember.

[Crane begins closing his eyes but keeps both open; his hands adjusting as he begins thinking. Focusing on relevent facts, reviewing them with a detailed eye, analysing the patterns they create. Either a mother or a wife, considering the heartfelt loss. The intimacy of worshipping a madonna on a pedestal that rarely extends to siblings.]

Look again at the painting.

[His voice is hushed and his tone soft.]

You might not remember but you can still feel.

( there's a rebellious part of james that wants to just shake his head, walk off, and try to figure out how to get back to the free cities. he had never been the best at confronting his true feelings, much less when he couldn't remember why he would want to. however there was a strange sensation, or rather a thought that intruded into his mind.

'you've always been so forgetful, remember that time-'

the voice in his mind felt like it could belong to mary. so with a soft breath, he turned back towards the painting and looked up at it. he stared up at the black curves that made the outfit of the 'man' screaming, his warped face and expression, and the hues of the sky. finally after what seemed like forever, he finally spoke. )

I think....I was married-

( he didn't have on a wedding ring now, but as he said that, he felt a pain in his ring finger. )

To her, to Mary.

[Marriage is enough of a mention to lead him into investigating James throughly. It starts with love. It offers loss. But some marry for reasons other than love. Many enter the relationship with the aim of stealing. Housing and wealth offer security. Isolate your partner from friends and family and you control their life.

But those motives ring false in this case. People who care nothing for their spouse tend to mention nothing of them. Divorce would hardly create this reaction. Death, then?]

You seem pained.

[It is a way of eliciting without directly using a word so many fear: death.]

( crane was right on the money in his observations—

although james had put in too much of his happiness and comfort in the stability of their relationship, he wasn't quite that selfish with mary when times were good. instead when things started to become rough, when the illness began to take over what little hope he had, he had isolated himself from her. had turned to alcohol and other fantasies to escape the pain. )

Yeah....you could say that.

( he managed to choke out, before turning his attention back to crane. )

I....I could really use a drink right now.

( even if he can't remember why he was in pain, the sensation to turn to his comfort, alcohol, was there. )

[Crane leans back in his chair, saying nothing while hiding his thoughts. One arm unfurls and he waves in gesture, encompassing the coffee table between the two armchairs and the couch opposite the painting on the wall. Upon the surface are a glass decanter and a set of highball glasses. Together with his collection of Grey Goose, Jack Daniels and Dry Rye Gin. All of which are real inside this imaginary world.

People have entertained drinking in this office before. James is hardly the first. Nor will he ever be the last. SO he will permit him a choice: one where the decision is whether to indulge or challenge himself. Who should ever tell his guest what to do but himself? Who can ever make him do anything but himself? Far as he sees it, he is being accomodating.

Thoughtful. Considerate. Empthatic.

Sometimes he doesn't need words.]

( the silence and the way he simply waved his hand towards exactly what james had been eyeing was unnerving to say the least. this gesture and mood seemed far too familiar to a certain temptation he had encountered in silent hill.

a woman, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around it just yet. so instead, without hesitation he walked towards the decanter and stood before it. james looked down at it with wide eyes, mouth salivating as his temptation for the liquids before him grew stronger. he couldn't bring himself to actually grab it though-

something was stopping him. so after a few moments of reflection, he finally turned his head towards crane. )

Is it really appropriate to have this here of all places?

[Crane observes James and slightly angles his head; looking neither discontent nor annoyed by the man fighting his impulses. He only wonders how far those impulses can go. His soft voice is no sign of fearfulness. He makes a genuine attempt at answering because he thinks he gets what James is getting at.]

Are you a patient?

[No. The answer exists before James can respond. He shifts in his chair, slightly uncomfortable at the suggestion he is being inappropriate. But he doesn't take it as an insult.]

I honestly prefer water. But most guests thought that no choice at all.

( touché. technically he wasn't a patient, in fact he wasn't even sure how he got here or ended up in this room-

so really he had no place to judge. instead he walked away from the generous offering and began to pace back and forth in the room rather slowly. he closed his eyes and tried to focus on why he was looking for mary, what exact reason he had for it. )

Well I suppose I don't need to drink for now. I'm trying to remember why I was looking for my wife, maybe she isn't here? Then again-

Where am I? I can't remember how I ended up here.

[Amnesia, then? James must be new to this world. Crane leans forward in his chair, attentive and hooked by what else the man could say. But as much as he is welcoming, he welcomes the panic overtaking his guest. He closes his eyes and tries savouring it; making himself look thoughtful to offset any concerns about his behaviour.]

Does it matter much as where you're going?

[Pacing around the table, perhaps? Or back and forth before the fireplace? His eyes open to the sight of James fighting to remember. The struggle almost makes him inhale. Almost.]

( unaware of just how thrilling his fear was to the other man, james continued on this loop like an animal in a cage. pacing back and forth out of a nervous compulsion.

it's only when the question really begins to settle into his mind and thoughts, that he finally stopped in the middle of the path he had created. where was he going?

to the drinks? no. he had decided he didn't need that clutch anymore. )

I guess nowhere, all I can do is try and remember where I came from. I remember arriving to the Free Cities now that I think about it...

but anything before that? It's like a dark fog that envelopes me.

[Rituals. Superstitions. Both are necessary for man to survive. Both are so easily manipulated. Crane focuses his attention on James while his gaze looks around. One can forget where they come from. One cannot easily forget culture and tradition; the rules of living to which everyone must adhere.]

Does anything about this place look familiar? The books on my shelves, the names on those bottles, the painting...

[Ulysses by James Joyce. The Diagnostic and Statistics Manual. Journals of psychiatry. Jack Daniels. The Scream by Munch. Nothing might be memorable personally. But James looks like any man from Gotham. Chances are they share the same earth, figuratively speaking. And thinking of home? Well, that might elicit something.

Or not. Wouldn't that be fun?]

( well they were technically from a similar earth-

only his happened to have a small town overrun by cult members, leading to the formation of the other world that took a hold of silent hill. however the items in the room were familiar to him, enough that he recognized the book, the brand of liquor, and the paintings. so with a soft sigh, he finally spoke up. )

Yes, it's all familiar. I've seen it at home and elsewhere...

( the random poems, sonnets, and lyrical sheets scattered about in silent hill in his latest loop were also found in crane's world. )

I can remember that much at least.

And isn't that wonderful? Each of those represent a moment for you. And really, good memories are all we ever want, right?

[Crane returns to leaning back against his chair. One hand on his knee, one on an armrest. How many good memories can you remember when you lose your wife? How many do you want to forget?]

You're going to remember everything when you leave this place. I wouldn't worry too much.

Good memories huh? For some strange reason...

( when he thought about it, the items in this space did seem to speak to him. whether it was because his experience was a universal one or they were deliberate [much like the symbolism in the other world], he wasn't sure on. what he was sure about was how good memories seemed to be so far from him.

all he could feel was negativity about the whole thing and it began to make him anxious. )

I can't help but think I have none, but then I guess I should leave soon then? So I can remember not be worried.

[Crane says nothing at first. He rises from his chair and clasps his hands across his stomach, presenting with enough good manners to show his guest the door. Once the man is ready to leave, of course. Because much as James is admitting he thinks he should leave, he is still lingering.

Malingering.

His internal smile is missing from his face. Meanwhile, he prepares his words and observes his subject for any change in mood or expression.]

I think you should do whatever makes you happy.

[Supportive words. But he knows they are not likely to solve everything that ails.]

Thank you...

( the feeling that comes over james is like a ghost that began to reside with him, making every word and every movement heavy. he knows he should get going, not impose further-

yet he's still intrigued by this man and this plane of existence. was it curiosity or a lack of self-perseverance? perhaps crane knew the answer in the end. what james does next though, is he returns back to the area with the bar, reaching for a small bottle. he began to walk out the door, turning around to face crane one last time before finally deciding to head out. )

One for the road...while I figure out who exactly I am.

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me gasping at my typo, oops