realityshifted | (no subject)

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doctor who (d3) the master - simm

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[seated in an ornate armchair, speaking in fluent, articulate, and rather pleasant-to-the-ears Gallifreyan]

It's actually a bit disgusting, hearing you lot speak Gallifreyan so primitively. Like chanting off - no, that metaphor's incomprehensible without a background in high mathematics. Fine. Like writing Calculus and finding everyone else doing basic algebra.

[then he changes to Russian - less articulate, of course, but he's comfortable with the language]

This one, though, this one's a bit ironic. Look at me, the Master, the deathless, blathering on in Russian. Haven't been in ages, should probably go back and put a few more legends into the locals.

[sips from his wine, and slips back into Gallifreyan]

At least the people of the city still understand me.

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[and so he speaks in Russian so they can understand each other, for now]

Presumably because you're unfit to.

[keeps up the Russian]

It is my language as much as yours. [frowns, then sighs] Do you have any idea the cause of this?

[yay Russian!]

I'm going to assume either a further experiment, or a mishap. The alterations are deep into the language functions. I'm not entirely sure I'm able to rewrite them.

[TARDIS hates Russian :/]

What have you tried so far to counteract this ridiculous predicament?

[no bitching]

I fail to see why I should tell you.

[but she's so good at it!]

You may dislike me, Master, and I you, but neither of us can deny the other's intellect. If we pool our resources, perhaps we can work out what has occurred here. I can speak with the Doctor as well. The three of us together should be able to solve this.

No, I don't think so. Self and I can manage quite well enough on our own.

You are as stubborn as you are cruel, Master. Can you and your other self even communicate?

Quite well, actually. One of the benefits of being the same person.

I should suppose. [sighs] You absolutely will not assist me?

Perhaps the Doctor will choose to tell you what I share with him. But I really don't see any reason that I should have to work with you. Machines are tools, not partners.

I was unaware you could communicate with the Doctor. [clenches her fists, bowing her head angrily] Would you say that if I were another? You may hate me, Master, but your own TARDIS ... you did not hate her so, did you?

She failed me. That's all that's relevant with her.

You can't mean that. She cared for you!

She failed. She was replaced.

You replaced her? What could she have possibly done to have deserved that, Master? How did she fail you? Was your tea the improper temperature?

What does it concern you? Did you care for her? Bonds between machines, ooh, now we'll have to cut that out of your circuits.

Do not avoid the question, Master. What did she do? She was loyal to you -- loved you. Did that not matter?

She died. What use is a dead TARDIS? And I don't mean 'dead' in the way that means they've been thrown off to the TARDIS graveyard. I mean she was gone. Broken and quite gone. So I got a new one, as you do with tools.

[stares, stunned and horrified] ...how? How did she...? [closes her eyes] When did it happen? I have been gone so long, I...

My, my, I never thought I'd hear that.

[takes one step forward, placing his palm above her heart, and speaks in the language of their home]

The sound of the breaking of a TARDIS's heart.

[she can't understand him, though she can guess. she doesn't move when he touches her, staring at him forlornly] Was it the War, Master? Tell me that, at least.

She did not suffer that.

[she wants to know. she wants to know so badly, but fears asking again and being rejected or mocked. in the end, her need to know wins out] What broke her?

[steps in again, slipping a hand onto her shoulder and whispering in her ear]

The Time Lords destroyed her before they executed me.