(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 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.

Italian (it might?)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

What do you want?!

[lets him go with a mark of digust]

Russian (*hugs*)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

And get off.

[pushes him away, just as scorning]

Italian (huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugs!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[throws a smack at his face before backing away]

I only wanted to help you. Save you. We used to be friends!

Russian (hugshugs!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[he lets that slide, instead looking at the Doctor with contempt and anger and something else]

What are you so angry and hurt for? What have I done to you that you have not done? I hope it hurts, Doctor! I hope it hurts enough to shrivel your selfish hearts away!

I won't be Koschei. I won't serve Thete [he spits out the name like a bad taste] ever again. While you can't understand this, I might as well speak it, because of course, it would be too much weakness to ever tell you with words you could understand.

But never comprehend. I could say this into your mind, write it in your nerves and on your skin, and you would never understand.

[he turns away from the Doctor, slipping back into his childhood language]

I hate you.

Italian (Squee for happy hugs during angsty scene)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

I love you, Master.

I always have. I've never wanted to.

[sighs and moves back, giving the Doctor some space]

Gallifreyan (I just now paused to consider what that would sound like in Italian)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[when he turns again to face the Doctor, he's composed, but still angry - a controlled, coiled hatred]

Why haven't you run yet, Doctor? You usually flee by now.

Italian (squeediama?)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[pained but controlled breathing]

This has to stop. We have to stop.

Gallifreyan (Ti amo, Padrone)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Run, Doctor. Run away.

Italian (True dat, yo.)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

We can't go on like this. We can't.

[desperate]

I can't.

Gallifreyan (...you did not just respond to an Italian love confession with gangsta)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

I said, go.