If we were all suddenly somewhere else | Free Cities
[The Sarstina. That’s where Crane first finds himself, lurking in darkness in the corner, seated towards the back. People walk by. This man is nobody. This woman is nothing. Their lives are nothing. Observing them is a way to pass the time. They're a distraction.
His eyes close a little before he raises a hand. Fingers burrow through his hair and support his head. Nails scratch his scalp; once, twice, three times before settling their movements.
Limbs and shoulders align and he straightens as somebody takes the opposite seat. Fingers glide together and his hands slide between his knees. Eyes glance left in the direction of the window. An impassive, polite expression deigns to appear on his face - eyes returning to look the other in the eye.
Calm. Controlled. Certain. His voice is soft and polite, with the nasally air of being aggrieved.]
Don’t let me stop you.
[Such a curt phrase spoken so nicely. Not a personal inkling of annoyance at all.]
A man can listen and smile and be a villain | Free Cities
[Crane is sitting beside an elderly lady who thirty minutes ago was a stranger; a local with a curious case of loneliness and grief brought on by loss. It had taken gentle caution and judicious use of his words to convince her to speak of her missing husband and learn she was visiting this memorial garden out of hope.
Broken emotions with splinters as fine as fractured glass. He spends his valuable time keeping her together, keeping her calm and safe. He affords her space and encourages her to share pleasant memories. It is only minutes later that he notices they are being observed.]
Can I help you?
Feel the wind on the wing of madness | Solvunn
[The gods have graced them with his presence. How delighted they are.
No praise comes from himself. The lack of acclaim is something they hardly notice. Platitudes are miserable at the best of times - and being away from home is one of the worst. The absence of his notes and data - his work - leaves him unable to resist reaching out in search of comfort. It’s rough to begin again, but he finds solace in the same old patterns, the same old routine.
He glances through a collection of bottles and charms; wheat and berries scattered here and there across a shrine carved out of stone. His fingers keep a respectful distance from picking something up and offending whoever is around.]
Jonathan Crane | Batman Begins | The Magician
A man can listen and smile and be a villain | Free Cities
Feel the wind on the wing of madness | Solvunn