(no subject)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[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.

Comments

Gallifreyan (I don't like you anymore)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[that's nicely done on the Doctor's part, as the Masterfalls right on top of the Doctor, all elbows and knees]

Italian (You say that now, but I know you love me)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[cue several choice Italian swears, along with a rough shove off of the Doctor and the Doctor grabbing the Master's hair]

Now that we're at least matched...

Gallifreyan (I do not. I hate you. Forever.)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[a shout and he grabs the Doctor's wrist, digging his nails into it] Hair-pulling? Hair-pulling? This is not a bloody human catfight!

[this time, the foot's aimed at the Doctor's shins]

Italian (But I love you. See, I bought you chocolate!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[Takes his head from where he holds his hair and tries to slam his face into the "ground"]

One of these days we're going to have a decent conversation without fighting. Today is not that day.

[and cue a few swears at the Master's kicks fall true]

Gallifreyan (I know you; you're just using me!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

You're so disagreable!

[breaks his head free, but ends up smashing the side of his head into the ground, leaving him dizzy]

Italian (Yeah, but you like it)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

You're so disagreeable!

[forearm to the chest to pin him to the ground]

Gallifreyan (...well, yes)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[frowns deeply, eyes closed, then opens them to the Doctor]

Oh, I hate you.

[sighs and lets his head fall back]

Italian (At least you can admit it)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[wide victorious grin]

You look better like this.

Gallifreyan (First step to recovery)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Oh, go shove Rassilon's Rod up your arse, Theta Sigma.

[without even lifting his head, lifts an arm for a punch to the nose]

Italian (cause I didn't forget to fill this in)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[cries out angrily at the punch and the blood that it produces]

Got three out of that. Are we comparing me to Rassilon, now?

[grabs the Master's wrists and attempts to pin him]

Gallifreyan (I say nothing)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[a smiles spreads on his face and he lets the Doctor pin him]

I win.

Re: Gallifreyan (I say nothing)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[forcefully pinning, but his expression slowly turns to confusion]

I win.

Gallifreyan

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[shakes his head, laughing at the Doctor now]

No, Doctor, definitely my victory.

Italian (Yes, I lose)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[Forcefully pushes his wrists down again, as if it will prove he's won]

Stop laughing. Stop it!

Gallifreyan (I tried not to mention it)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[laughs harder]

And the best bit is, I couldn't win if you didn't react so badly to it. Must be awful to be mocked in the language of your childhood and not understand. By you best friend, at that.

Now, let's see.

[clears his throat and shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them, and speaks in the voice and tones of that childhood friend]

You're hurting my wrists, Thete. Let go.

Italian (I appreciate the politeness)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[panics; what is the Master doing? What is the Doctor doing?]

Don't call me that. I don't know what you're saying but don't---[pushes down on his wrists harder] call me that!

Gallifreyan (I try)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[flinches]

Thete! Please, let go.

Italian (So, forgive me?)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[Either he doesn't understand, or he doesn't WANT to]

Why are you doing this?

Gallifreyan (Always! After persuasion, anyway)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[the Master certainly understands well enough what the Doctor's saying, but he doesn't at all appear to, not when he's still talking in that tone, with that voice, in that old language]

Let go.

[lightly tries to pull his hands away - not a real fight, more whining than anything]

Come on, Thete. It's enough.

Italian (God I suck at remembering)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[unable to let him go. Not again, not after all of this]

Master.

Gallifreyan (You sort of d--I mean, no, of course not!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Thete.

Italian (*cries*)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[shaky breath]

Koschei.

Gallifreyan (Aww, come on, it's okay)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Thete.

[then, suddenly it's all gone, replaced by Russian]

God, you're an idiot. Koschei the Deathless indeed. But you are fun to play with, I'll give you that. Get off me, Doctor. Or if you're going to have a hissy fit, have at.

Italian (But you're breaking my heart!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[even more confusion, followed by a frustrated tug on the Master's wrists]

What do you want?

Russian (Would hugtime work?)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

If you're going to pin me down, breathe shakily and squeeze tight, you might as well go the whole way and fuck me here, too.

[yanks his wrists]

Let go, Doctor.