Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Mar 31, 2012 0:47:19 GMT -5
The secure wing of Arkham, oh how he never came to miss the whispered threats that passed through bars to his ears as he passed cell after cell. The rattling of those self same bars and their attached door when the threats were not so soft. He never missed the omnious feeling that curled at the base of his spine, but he had gotten used to it. He had conditioned himself and he never looked at the dangerous men and women who dared to speak of his demise by them. And if he did...If Jeremiah did look at them...
That was something to ponder later. Now he had more important ruminations to consider that fluttered in and out of his mind, distracting him. His step was confident and casual and absolutely unaffected by the inmates all wishing his death. Not even a shudder ran down his back as he turned one corner after another in his labyrinthine asylum.
Today he would be speaking to Jonathan Crane, as he did every Friday at the hour just following lunch. He had either frightened all his other doctors away, driven him insane, or the mere mention of his passing to a doctor terrified them so badly they refused to work unless the man was no longer their problem. Jeremiah could roll his eyes. Crane was nothing more than a man, a man who had a great mass of knowledge, a sharp mind, and who only used such things to do what he did best. He was an expert at crawling into the crevices of a person's psyche and finding the right detail to utter tear them apart. It was fear of fear that had them running, they having their nightmares plucked from them, thus they set themselves up. Were overtly cautious and they failed every single time.
The raucous his presence had caused was dying down, in both actuality and in volume. He had entered the part of the wing where the session rooms were located. He strolled to the one he had always used for Jonathan and smiled as he entered the room. Flanked by two guards and an orderly who was leaning against the back, the man was seated in his routine seat. Jeremiah followed the same routine he always did. He placed his papers on the table, crouched to inspect its underside, gave the room a sweeping with his gaze and then met the eyes of one of the guards.
“Take off his restraints, and this time, don't shake as you do it. It only verifies him.” He took his seat and waited for the guard to do as requested. Jeremiah pursed his lips when the man flinched, but finished nonetheless. “I'll call when we're finished.”
He never said he'd call if he needed assistance. One he considered that a given, and two that was bad judgment. It let the patient know you thought them dangerous. Rule one, don't let them smell your fear. Rule two, and if that patient is Scarecrow, especially show no outward signs of terror. Jeremiah flipped through his documents as the men filed from the room. He waited for the distinct sound of the lock being flipped before he raised his eyes to regard the man. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and extracted a pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat. He placed it on the tabletop and folded his hands over it.
“Afternoon, Jonathan,” he greeted pleasantly.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 31, 2012 22:05:00 GMT -5
Dr. Crane stayed lifeless and still in his chair that he sat in every Friday now. It was earlier than usual for the Asylum to start putting him in handcuffs rather than a straight jacket. It had often been found that he couldn't be trusted unless he was in one. After a while without him causing too much trouble they would remove the jacket and begin to restrain him in other ways.
It wasn't surprising when a doctor walked out on him. It had become quite normal for a turn over of doctors to happen with Dr. Crane. They couldn't sit in the room long enough without fear taking over. It never took much, sometimes simple eye contact. What was surprising was finally being assigned to Dr. Arkham...
The life left his eyes as the thought rolled over in his mind. It wasn't their first session but the thought that he was even in the room with the man at any time at all pulled at a darkness within him. This went far beyond any annoyance he would have with a regular doctor at Arkham, or even for the GCPD. This was far more personal than that.
Just as his thoughts were turning in a different much more sinister direction the door came open. His eyes lifted from the darkness they had slipped into and watched as Dr. Arkham entered the room and checked under the the desk. He couldn't help but think of a child pulling up the dressing at the under side of the bed to check underneath. His comment to the guard made a soft smile appear on his lips for only a moment. Before he stood and held out his hands.
The guards eyes never met his, what a weak man. The expression of fear what written all over him, he didn't even have to flinch to tell Dr. Crane that he was terrified. After his restraints were removed he took his seat again and his eyes met Dr. Arkham's as he listened to his greeting.
“Dr. Crane..” He corrected him as he always would. There was very few people he let get away with calling him by his first name and Dr. Arkham certainly was not on that very short list. His fingers moved slowly from the table top to the under side for a very specific reason but he was sure that Dr. Arhkam would note it himself. His thoughts turned back to the first day he was analyzed by him making him grip his left knee from under the table.
How could a man in this field understand so little about what was going on around him? He was just like the rest, going about their lives thinking that they could change something, to make it more meaningful. Dr. Arkham had some misplaced notion that he needed to be saved from the truth. He would never be brought to that level of ignorance, those people would always be beneath him. There was only one driving force in the world, one thing that mattered. It was the reason why Dr. Arkham sat in the chair in front of him. It was the reason why he played a part in stripping everything away that Dr. Crane had once accomplished...
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 1, 2012 5:20:14 GMT -5
Jeremiah's fingers tapped one atop the other, he raised a brow to Crane. “Dr. Crane?” He lifted his hand and took up his pen. “You wish me to call you a doctor?” His voice flowed with amusement at that notion, absurd amusement because that's exactly what it was: absurd. The man had done nothing to gain such respect and he admitted he'd have no admonishments against calling him such had he gained that, but the simple fact was, he hadn't.
Why? Because he assumed that Jeremiah for one was ignorant. How his patients often believed that of him. He had more knowledge about what exactly was taking place in his asylum than any of them realized. He glossed over page after page of his patients, kept up with their exploits outside of the walls—especially easy to do when a patient was Rogue. The paper had a love of their latest plots and foils. He observed them with his security equipment. Jeremiah was anything, but ignorant, but that just made the job interesting. He'd not call anyone out the belief, at least not directly.
He scribbled on the papers he had brought with him. For intents, maybe he was taking notes about Crane. Maybe. He reached into his pocket again and with a practiced flick of the wrist he had his trusty tape recorder on.
He pulled back from writing and met Crane's eyes. “If you want for me to refer to you as doctor than you need a patient.” His eyes lit with idea. He leaned just slightly forward towards the thinner man. He supposed he could call him 'Dr. Crane' if it was on his terms. “And that's a wonderful idea. Let's do a role-playing activity.” He grinned.
“You wish to play doctor, then I'll be the patient. Your session starts now, Dr. Crane.”
He watched the man, unperturbed. Yes, he wished for the man to analyze him, no he dared him.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 3, 2012 17:26:17 GMT -5
Dr. Crane studied his every expression carefully. His words were mocking in tone. Dr. Arkham never had any trouble in the past with the name, was it really so difficult to give him the name he deserved? That he earned? His methods were perfectly necessary for his research. Regardless of what the Arkham board thought...Regardless of what this man thought.
After all it was this staff that hired him after he was 'removed' as a professor from Gotham University. His research was valued then. Just because he didn't follow their rules and follow Dr. Arkham's practices..Now he wouldn't call him by the title he earned. It was far deeper than that though. He knew the real reason why it all happened....They feared him.
His eyes fell to the paper where he was writing notes down. Scribbling about his paper like he had noticed something significant or figured out something interesting. It was further than most doctors got with him. His eyes scanned over the tape recorder as it was clicked and made active. Nothing unusual about a tapped and recorded session.
What really interested him was the eye contact that came afterward. He needs a patient? A role playing activity? This was insulting. Such disrespect from one of the men that 'once upon a time' gave him his own wing at the Asylum. He remained motionless in his seat listening to him despite how he had insulted him.
It was his session the moment Dr. Arkham sat down there was nothing pretend about the situation. Dr. Crane sat back some relaxing in his chair never pulling his eyes from the doctors. Dr. Arkham invited the nightmare? Then who was he to deny him his greatest fears? Nothing would have brought him more pleasure to be honest. Let him think he's in control of his little activity he's set up. It could only work to his own advantage.
His right hand moved from underneath the table to the desk between. Slowly his arm slid over it moving closer to Dr. Arkham and he opened his hand. He would have brought his own but they don't let him have those things anymore. Of course it was just as easily gotten from others. Even without the recorder in his hand it was still on, if he wouldn't hand it to him.
“Patient number Eight, Five, One, Two, One, Five, Three...”
His eyes never left Dr. Arkham's as he tried to walk into his mind. He invited the nightmare in. "Tell me what you cherish most..." He spoke softly yet the intent of the statement could be seen through his eyes.
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 4, 2012 0:46:01 GMT -5
Every movement was monitored, and though he sat still, it was enough. He could tell that Jonathan had enjoyed his tone at all, but that only made Jeremiah himself sit back, grin still teasing the corners of his mouth as his brown eyes locked with Jonathan's blue eyes. He was looking into ice, yes, he was quite irritated with the elder doctor, but what had expected? He was patient, not actual doctor anymore. It would be against protocol in most instances to call him “Dr. Crane”, but Jeremiah didn't always follow the handbook, and of course handing over a session to your patient was certainly advised against, but he knew just as well as Jonathan what this was.
It was test, a battle of wits, chess played across the table but instead of a board and chess pieces they were playing on a field that consisted of words, squares of the mind, and the reaction of the opposite person. He knew the moment Jonathan accepted the proposal, just as he knew he would. The man despised him personally, it had do with their history and what he perceived from other people. Of course, the alienated when pushed too far would lash back out.
He cracked his neck and his attention was drawn to Jonathan's hand has it slithered across the table to stop, palm up. Jeremiah glanced from the spread fingers to Crane's intent eyes. He reached into his coat and pulled out the silver tape recorder. He dangled it over Jonathan's awaiting hand.
“Patient 8512153? How quaint, picking up pointers from Mr. Nigma?” He dropped the recorder into Jonathan's palm. “Come up with new materials, first. Fearing? Patient Fearing? I'm so reassured in your opinion of me,” his voice dripped in amused sarcasm. “But I'm sorry, doctor, you asked me a question didn't you?”
He steepled his fingers to lips. “What do I cherish most?” He tapped his fingertips against his mouth. “Oh, you should know that better than anyone. I cherish my devilishly good looks of course.” He gave a dirty little grin. Of course that wasn't at all what he cherished, and he knew Jonathan would know that.
But what did Jeremiah cherish above all? Power and control and as much as Scarecrow wished to believe it, he held none. But Jeremiah was generous. This was Crane's session and Jeremiah was calmly enjoying his stint in the patient's chair, with the patient's mindset, staring down the psychologist. He kept his enthused expression and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the call out he was going to receive for his clearly, avoidant, untruthful answer.
Patient is exhibiting avoiding behavior. It is a semblance for keeping control in an unfamiliar situation, it is a clear sign of vulnerability. Or is it a game? Is it a game?
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 4, 2012 21:56:17 GMT -5
What was Dr. Arkham goal in all of this? Having him transferred to him instead of another doctor. Did he really think he could get inside his mind? To understand how he worked and how he thought? Did he really think that there was any ‘hope’ for him? Hope didn’t exist, it was a secondary and if Dr. Arkham had done any of his homework he would know exactly how Dr. Crane felt about secondary emotions.
As he felt the second recorder fall into his hand satisfaction came from inside, but it was quickly removed at the mention of Nigma’s name. Is that what he thought this was? Taken something from Nigma!? The thought made his fingers turn and grasp the recorder pulling it back away from him. Just because he had been around Nigma doesn’t mean he suddenly was picking up on his behaviors. How others so easily forgot that he was the first to face The Batman. Everything he did was to prove a point…A point that Dr. Arkham would soon come to realize.
It came as no surprise that he was able to decipher that the number had meant something. Despite his inner feelings on Dr. Arkham’s statement regarding his methods his outward expression remained unchanged. His normal expressionless empty face and eyes just held their own.
His sarcasm used when answering his questions only proved that his given name fit him perfectly. Of course he was avoiding the question, why would he simply tell him something like that out right? What he didn’t understand was the way that Dr. Crane thought and processed information. It’s what made him so much better than all the rest of the doctors at Arkham. It was the reason why his work was recognized in the first place. He dared to question the original method of psychology….and eventually dared to challenge its laws.
“Patient is exhibiting fear…” Was all he was going to give him.
He pulled the recorder away from his mouth after he spoke and kept it a bit outward turning it in his fingers. Vanity is the belief in one’s own attractiveness to others. It drives from a sense of Pride, a secondary emotion. All secondary emotions lead back to the 6 basic emotions that the human mind and body can experience or express. Of course everyone would agree with him on this. Where they didn’t agree was that He believed there were only 5 primaries and one control. That one control was Fear. It was the only emotion that controlled all the others. This was where he was met with resistance, but it was the truth. People often didn’t like to hear the truth.
After he had pried him apart with his mind, it was time for them to continue their session. “Let’s see if we can settle your fears. “ He turned his head slightly.
“Who do you cherish most?….”
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 5, 2012 0:29:40 GMT -5
Jeremiah smirked at his body language as he snatched back the recorder. Had he wounded him with the comparison to Riddler? He kept eye contact with him as he leaned back in his chair and placed his feet atop the table. He chuckled at the other's words.
“Patient exhibits fear, patient exhibits fear,” he raised an eyebrow, “towards you? No, no, no.” He shook his head. “Jonathan, you and I have worked together, you spent time in my asylum as a doctor before you were patient or inmate. You know not only what I cherish most, you know who.”
He knew exactly what Crane would have thought about his answer. He knew his modus operani, knew how his mind worked. He knew it was all about what he thought a person feared. Jeremiah dusted off his shoulder and his feet tapped at the air. “I have no living family, no children, or a wife to share my bed. I am lonely, by myself, who have I value about me?” He let his gaze fall and his voice softened. “So I cherish myself most, though I wish had someone else to, a wife and children, not because I fear leaving nothing behind, because I simply wish to.”
He returned his gaze to Crane, “And that was an honest answer. I have only myself to cherish and so cherish myself I do.” He smiled gently and adjusted his glasses with a long exhale. “Next question, Dr. Crane.”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 5, 2012 19:58:10 GMT -5
Dr. Crane took a note mentally of how Dr. Arkham’s posture changed. He looked very relaxed from where he was but it was only a mask. Using it to hide what his true feelings on the subject were. He could break down and analyze the doctor’s posture further but something else caught his attention.
So that’s the way he thought. The fact that fear of himself even crossed his mind gave Dr. Crane a sense of satisfaction. It would only help with the inevitable realization of what fear truly was, which Dr. Arkham would soon come to understand very clearly. The thoughts of how exactly that would come to be kept rolling over his mind. The many ways that he could settle this situation kept appearing in front of him. It wouldn’t be difficult..
But he wanted something more than that. It would be incredibly easy just to kill the man. No, Dr. Arkham deserved much more than oblivion’s sweet embrace. ..
Dr. Crane was aware of most of Dr. Arkham’s history having worked close with him at one point. Still having him roll over the words was what he really wanted. His eyes caught the moment that he looked away. Broke eye contact, as many that fell prey to fear did. This next sentence really caught Dr. Crane’s attention and he moved in a bit closer to the table hanging on the words. ‘Not because I fear?’ The statement was laughable“Where is the wish born from Dr. Arkham?” He said with a soft smile spearing on his lips. He was going to get him to do what he wanted him to. After all…
This was his session…
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 5, 2012 21:48:44 GMT -5
Jonathan had thought he'd cast his eyes away out of fear? He could have snorted at that. No it was out of honesty, out of rumination, out of the emotions that admitting that caused him. It troubled him that he had no one to cherish. It just felt wrong. He did not remove his feet from the table as Crane came closer. Jeremiah stared at him.
“Don't sound so smug,” he said tiredly, frowning at him. “The wish is born from no one but myself. It is encoded in us to long for companionship. Some people fear they are incomplete without another, some discover they were incomplete after finding another, and some just want someone. Chalk in the discomfort of dying alone, and the longing of a person to have a yin to their yang, a person who understands them wholly and completely. Everyone would love to have someone in which they need not be guarded around, someone they could tell their truths to and never worry that they will be used against them.”
He gestured with his hands as he spoke, staring off in thought as he collected his words, “While I believe we all die alone in essence...no one joins us in our passing, it is a comfort to have someone hold your hand. I am not immune to it. I want someone to complete me, someone to make me realize I 'm complete, I'd say. I want someone to come home to and unwind, someone to listen. Desperation or vanity, which is it? You take your pick. It is an instinct many have: find a mate, make a family. In part I just want to continue my legacy because I have that choice and I wish to know myself as a father, prove that I can be better than mine, and the other reason...who doesn't wish to be remembered?” He brought his feet back to the floor and scooted close to the table. “There are other emotions: a longing to love, complicated naggings and base drives as well, but I'd thought I'd not bore you with those.” He told him simply.
“The problem with people today is that they don't accept that at the core some fear moves them, no matter how small. I'm aware of it. I accept it.”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 6, 2012 16:16:56 GMT -5
The psychological mind was a beautiful thing. From the outside it would look as if Dr. Arkham was agreeing with Dr. Crane on everything. Dr. Crane knew him better though, and he knew the mind better. The life seemed to sink back from Dr. Crane’s eyes as he thought about the philosophy that Dr. Arkham was playing over.
The wish was certainly born from within one’ self but it went far deeper than that. The general coding for companionship was only driven by primal instinct to reproduce. ‘Everyone’ was a very large term, Dr. Crane thought to himself as his mind went through every word spoken. The fact that it was immediately followed by a false sense of an emotion just reinforced to him that this man had no idea what fear was.
Love, a secondary emotion. Built up by the combination of several secondary’s all leading back to the primary of happiness. Serenity, acceptance, joy, trust, ecstasy, admiration…All of these secondary’s could be broken down into their various other secondary’s until boiled down the root of the issue. In a classroom students would have been told that it was happiness, an absolute, a primary. Dr. Crane would have told the classroom something quite different however. He would have gone on to explain that happiness lead back to the ultimate control of fear. For obvious reasons…Just ask yourself…Why are you happy?
The life jumped back into his eyes and they motioned to his hands as they began to move with his speech. Something that had meaning to him. Yes, Dr. Arkham talking about companionship or any significant other wasn’t just by chance, nor was it just simply because it was brought up. It was closer to him than that in his mind. “Fear..” Dr. Crane couldn’t help but snap after the words desperation or vanity came up. Again using secondary’s…
If Dr. Arkham was going to get anywhere with Dr. Crane he was going to have to learn to stop using those. As far as his mind went they didn’t exist, a ‘made up’ control for an emotion that lead back to one absolute truth. Why was it so difficult for humans to talk about the truth? A ‘longing’ to ‘love’? complicated ‘naggings’? Base Drive’s’? There was only one drive…
His last words exactly got a reaction out of Dr. Crane. His shoulders rolled a bit as if he was soaking in the statement, knowing something deep within the words. The truth was so clear to him it was exhilarating. Society would say his obsession was maddening.
“Fear is all that moves them….” He spoke darkly towards Dr. Arkham. “But let’s talk more about ‘acceptance’….Why are you here in front of me Dr. Arkham? Why are we in this room?” He moved the tape recorder in his hand as if to envelope the room in his arms.
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 8, 2012 1:29:47 GMT -5
Jonathan thought he had no idea what fear was, how wrong he was. How utterly wrong. He knew it intimately. He remembered as a child entering the asylum, back then treatment for the insane was rudimentary—it was amazing to see how far they'd come in such a short time. He remembered the patients, slobbering and filthy, not responsible for their actions but no less grotesque. Some were violent, some were not catatonic at all. They would pull at his clothing, babble. Their faces had frightened him, even now, exposure and other circumstances having stripped him of the fear, he could still feel his boyhood trepidation, still hear the echo of his screams off the walls of the asylum. It was Uncle Amadeus who had taught him to be unafraid.
Unafraid of the insanity around him, because one only had to practice control. He taught him even to be unafraid of impulse, but patient, always patient. He taught him to understand the darkness of human nature. Amadeus was insane too, but Jeremiah comprehended. Tell he didn't understand fear, he had been drowned in his until he could learn to breath. He had hated the asylum, his father, and the only love he held was for his uncle and mother. His uncle taught him to turn his fear into something else.
Jeremiah had thought on all of his, as Jonathan's question permeated his brain, triggering his inner evaluation. Did he still feel that fear? Fear the insane? Was he still of afraid of becoming insane? He was not avoiding Crane's stare, but his own was on his hands as they rolled over the surface of the table.
His hand raised to the side of his neck, two fingers finding his pulse. Steady, strong. He only felt the tingle on his spine and the churn of his stomach, faint and only reminiscent of his childhood terror. He was not afraid anymore. Not of the insane, not of his patients, not even of becoming them, but it was the answer and his felt his lips raise at it. It was reply to Jonathan's question. He laughed softly at first, but then the sound rose to normal volume.
“Agateophobia,” he smiled at Jonathan, “it's the answer. The fear of becoming insane, it's why no one else will treat you. They're afraid you'll rip into their minds like a lion rips through the tendons and muscle of its prey. They're afraid you'll smell their fear.” And it was all so amusing to him suddenly. “They're terrified of you. They externalize their own insecurities, afraid to have them discovered and they open themselves to your methods. In being afraid you'll find out what makes them awake in shivers at night, screaming at the dark corners even though they know nothing is there, they let you in.”
He himself savored in that, looking for all purposes like he'd tasted a hearty wine. “I'm here because no one else will you treat you, but that's only one reason. I could have said no, but I didn't. We're here because I'm only doctor who will sit in a room with you and converse. You may hate it, but I'm the only one who can handle you. Because you're wrong in your thoughts, Crane. I understand far more about fear and terror and its drive in all aspects of my life than you can imagine. You just can't stand the thought of anyone else having that knowledge. It makes you powerless. If you know the demon in the room, you can exorcise it. I'm not afraid of you.”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 9, 2012 23:17:22 GMT -5
The thought that it wasn’t him in Dr. Arkham’s chair pulled at him. If anything Dr. Arkham deserved to be on this side of the table more than he did. He didn’t see any fault or error in his ways, nothing he did was wrong he was simply just trying to get the point across. No one understood what they were truly living for, why they were living at all and Dr. Crane was just trying to give the world a piece of that. Why was that so hard to grasp? As punishment Dr. Crane was on this side of the room while Dr. Arkham who was questionably insane got to hold the other.
Dr. Crane never gave thought to his own sanity, he knew he was sane. It was everyone else that was insane; they just couldn’t see the truth. The truth in everything around them. Just because he understood the fabric of life itself he was deemed the one insane. No, the question of his sanity never crossed his mind, he knew the truth.
Something caught the attention of Dr. Crane, the movement of his hand to his neck. Normally any movement to the neck could be deduced psychologically as an attempt to comfort one’s self. Meaning that he ran into an uncomfortable feeling or situation in his mind. He saw his fingers come up to his neck to check his pulse and it could only be met with a smile.
His answer to his question was interesting indeed. Agateophobia, he would have explained it very differently than how Dr. Arkham chose to explain it. It was far more complex than he originally stated, but only Dr. Crane could be expected to understand it to this extent. Beyond the initial explanation Dr. Arkham was glorifying him. All he left out was literally telling him that he was god.
His outward exterior attempted to hide the satisfaction that came with Dr. Arkhams words. It was difficult on the subject of fear, one of the only things that actually made Dr. Crane give a reaction of any kind. He held back the roll of his shoulder that would have come with a warming and welcoming embrace of something familiar to him. He took a deep breath and tried to press it all down. The man was purposefully trying to get this reaction out of him; he was going to get nothing.
After a long exhale he was focused back on keeping his expression the same. That same cold stare that let him talk about all he thought he knew. ‘Understand more far more about fear and terror than he could imagine’. Was he out of his mind? Of course he was, no one understood fear like Dr. Crane…No one. His last statement really got to him.
With a click of his finger he stopped the recorder in his hand and stared at him for a long moment. His finger went to the rewind button and pressed it a few times until it got to where he wanted. “The demon in the room” He rewound the tape “The demon in the room” He rewound it again “The demon in the room” His finger finally hit stop as he pushed out from the table and rose to his feet in front of Dr. Arkham.
“You can’t exorcise a demon which you have invited in…”
He slammed the recorder on to the table after standing looking down at Dr. Arkham never breaking his gaze. The word demon had hit him for too close to home and sparked something inside him. He had every reason to fear the demon in the room…
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 15, 2012 3:40:33 GMT -5
Jeremiah laced his fingers in his lap, meeting Jonathan’s gaze. Had he been any other doctor, any other person, perhaps the cold stare he was met with would have frightened him, making him quiver in his restraints. Was he frightened? Well, that was the question wasn’t it?
He felt his pulse quicken, and the slamming of the recorder caused his face to twitch slightly. Oh, had he made the Scarecrow angry? He tilted his head and with the quirk of one his eyebrows, a daring little gesture along with the slow creep of his lips up, revealing just the tips of his white teeth. He too did not break the gaze, not even as he reached out for the tape recorder and brought it to his lips.
He record light returned to gleaming a bright, vibrant red as Jeremiah spoke into the device. His voice threatened a lilt, a hiccup of enjoyment entering his tone. “Patient exhibits aggression to the word ‘demon.’ Coping mechanism to shield himself from further probing, but it seems the term ‘demon’ strikes a chord.” His thumb flicked the reorder back off and he lowered his hand back to the table. Nonchalance seeped into his actions as he deposited the object on the surface. He had yet to break eye contact with the man. “So you don’t like being referred to as a demon? Why not? People are vastly afraid of them; shadows that creep in the night, the unknown that causes even the staunchest to fall to their knees and beg to be forgiven, overlooked, spared,” he mused and draw out the last word in a soft, pleasing hiss. “Though you’re incorrect about one thing.”
His jaw tightened as he leaned his head to side and with a slight twist, his neck gave an audible pop. He returned to observing Jonathan observe him. “You can exorcise anything you’ve invited in; you just have to have the strength for it. Interested in finding out if I do?” His eyebrows raised just a little more and his grin twitched in audacity. He tilted his head, but still eye contact remained.
Eye contact was a funny thing. Usually people broke it after only a few seconds because it was uncomfortable meeting a person in the eyes for extended periods of time. It made people feel like they were being searched, their souls scraped out for the entire world to see. People hated that, the majority of were deathly afraid of it. It made them feel ill. And Jeremiah had yet to avert his gaze, no matter how intense Jonathan’s own was.
“Tell me, Jonathan,” he drawled, “have you ever looked into the eyes of a man, and without your toxin, without the aid of anything beyond mere words, watched him shrivel in absolute fear and disgust of himself? Watched as guilt and anguish turned his gaze hollow until all he saw was you, and he can’t take it anymore? Can’t take the terror and truth, can’t take the feeling of your eyes on him, eyes he just knows is judging his every move, perhaps that he feels is reading his every thought. So he takes the pistol he grips in his hand. He puts it between his teeth. Then, he pulls the trigger.” Jeremiah sat forward, fingers curling around the edge of the table as he inclined his head, still staring blue eyes meeting blue eyes. “Have you ever done such a thing?”
Because he has, and he relished in every moment of fear and power that man gave him. He reveled in it so much he decided from that moment that he wanted to work with the criminally insane. And he has relived that moment, over and over again, so many times, with differences, sometimes stark, sometimes slight, but the power still flooded him every single time. It fed him.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Apr 17, 2012 1:56:58 GMT -5
For a long moment he stayed in his position daring Arkham with his stare. The man wouldn’t break his gaze; it challenged him to push further. Nothing to Dr. Crane would be sweeter than tasting his terror. He caught the flinch that he made and a sinister smile began to pry upon his lips. Flinching was an involuntary muscle response in anticipation of discomfort. Anticipation was the ‘anxiety’ towards a future event.
The life from his eyes sank into another world. One that was deep into his mind, the real world that could see the truth in everything. Discomfort was the lack of physical comfort, uneasiness of the body. Both of these secondary’s lead straight back to fear. It pleased him to know the truth, especially when it had come so beautifully clear straight from this man.
His head turned slightly as Dr. Arkham began to speak about the word demon. Is that what he took it for? The word demon certainly did spark something in him. A reminder of a dark time in his childhood. The word demon had been used to describe him often. He was a demon from birth through no fault of his own. The word certainly did grab his attention but the reasons why were not going to be released to him.
The sinister look that was on his face fell as Dr. Arkham asked him a question. “I already know what kind of will you possess Dr. Arkham, that’s not what I’m particularly interested in.” He said while tapping his fingers on the recorder under his hand.
He listened carefully to him telling his story. He made someone kill himself, the thought of the fear that must have went through the man’s features as he died brought a pleasure to Dr. Crane just to hear about .Just the mention of fear was exhilarating, one of the few ways to bring out a response from him, but Dr. Arkham knew that, and was going to use it against him. He was aware of it all the same. The question was what really caught his attention. He watched the man lean forward and ask him, never removing his gaze.
Has he ever done such a thing? The question was almost insulting. Dr. Crane had seen fear the likes of which Dr. Arkham would never understand. He had embraced it like no other would ever know. The things he had seen and done were unparalleled to what was shown in the newspapers and on television. “A waste…” Dr. Crane added an unstable look beginning to form on his features. His fingers lifted the tape recorder and began to drag it on its edge across the table.
“What good is research if your experiment is dead? It just sounds like poor work to me.” He taunted back at him, not giving him what he was after. He was going to have to try a lot harder to get Dr. Crane to spill the secrets behind him. Slowly he began to step to the edge of the desk dragging the recorder along until it dipped off the edge. He never broke his gaze with Dr. Arkham and turned his body back to face him advancing to his side of the desk. “Research is so much more effective…when the patient is still alive to scream about it…..” He turned his head and stopped at the edge of the corner lifting the recorder to his face. “ Wouldn't you agree?....Doctor.... Arkham…” His voice had turned dark, and his eyes flooded with intent.
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Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on May 23, 2012 20:28:12 GMT -5
Flinching: Jeremiah saw the curl of Jonathan’s lips at the reaction. He saw it for all its satisfaction and his own eyes and mouth remained firm. If Jonathan wanted to know whether Jeremiah was lying in wait for some discomfort, all he had to do was stare into his eyes. There was absolutely no fear there, if anything there was excitement, a form of agitation that revealed his enjoyment. Maybe he was anxious, but it wasn’t out of fear and his flinching had been a jerk response to loud noises, not fear not exactly. It was just a push of intense noise on already tense nerves. Yet there was nothing that spoke of terror in Jeremiah’s mind, only of revelation and relish.
Yet, he was not disturbed knowing that Jonathan would take them as signs of fear and perhaps they were, not in the essence that other man perceived them as. If Jeremiah feared anything in this moment, it was the notion of having the patient removed, his enjoyment shattered and that was a fear expressed with the shrillness of screams, but the venom of anger. Yet Jonathan’s notions served to amuse him, absolutely fill the darkness that filled his heart with oily laughter, but Jeremiah didn’t laugh, just observed. He always observed.
Jeremiah could not have glanced over the reaction Jonathan had had to word. It was one of the more volatile ones that had been incited in the man in a long while. One usually gained no strong reaction from Jonathan Crane, he was a master of keeping his emotions under wraps from less inclined eyes, and Jeremiah wouldn’t deny interest in the reasons that particular word garnered such a reaction from him, but he pressed it aside. Instead he took pleasure in Jonathan’s words. He knew his will, then that was good. Unlike the younger man, he would not hide his satisfaction of that.
Jeremiah leaned back when Jonathan called spoke of wastes. He finally let his eyes break their gaze with his and watched the recorder, his posture back to its previous professional slouch as Jonathan slid the item on the table. He let a snort at the jab, gaze flickering back to Jonathan as if to return it by mere look alone. Is that what Jonathan thought? That he just murdered, oh no, there was so much that went into the death of a person especially if that person took their own life. No, he liked to draw things out, watch each flicker of realization don upon his subject’s face. Stubbornness, anger, rumination, agony, sadness, desperation, his eyes darkened at all those thoughts and his grin became more feral as he again took to watching Jonathan. So enthused in the thoughts that crossed his mind, there was no strong reaction to Jonathan standing or moving towards him. He merely raised his head to regard as the man advanced towards him.
“Who says, I don’t take my time, Jonathan?” He clasped his hands in his lap, speaking plainly into the recorder. “There is much screaming involved, begging, cursing. You see every person reacts differently to the invasion of their psyche. There is no pleasure in simply ending their lives, that’s a mercy. No,” he gave Jonathan a gentle grin, “I like watching as their staunch determination diminishes, until they pale with the realization that they will never escape. So yes, Jonathan.” He smirked. “I completely and utterly agree.”
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