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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[flinches]

Thete! Please, let go.

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

Why are you doing this?

[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.

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

Master.

Edited 2008-07-27 02:34 (UTC)

Thete.

[shaky breath]

Koschei.

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.

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

What do you want?

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.

What do you want?!

[lets him go with a mark of digust]

And get off.

[pushes him away, just as scorning]

[throws a smack at his face before backing away]

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

[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.

I love you, Master.

I always have. I've never wanted to.

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

[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.

[pained but controlled breathing]

This has to stop. We have to stop.

Run, Doctor. Run away.

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

[desperate]

I can't.

I said, go.

I don't understand.

Your idiocy never fails to amaze.

Why are you still sitting there? What do you want?

[gets to his feet, slowly, then offers his hand to the Master]

[knocks the hand away and stands on his own, straightening out his clothing with neurotic neatness]

Most certainly not, Doctor.

[the Master shoves his hand away and the Doctor grabs him by the lapels, roughly pulling him up]

We can't go on like this!

[calmly puts his hands on the Doctor's, lifting a single eyebrow, looking at the Doctor coldly]

Remove your hands, Doctor.

Gallifreyan (I try)

Italian (So, forgive me?)

Gallifreyan (Always! After persuasion, anyway)

Italian (God I suck at remembering)

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

Italian (*cries*)

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

Italian (But you're breaking my heart!)

Russian (Would hugtime work?)

Italian (it might?)

Russian (*hugs*)

Italian (huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugs!)

Russian (hugshugs!)

Italian (Squee for happy hugs during angsty scene)

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

Italian (squeediama?)

Gallifreyan (Ti amo, Padrone)

Italian (True dat, yo.)

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

Italian (It's DC love, yo)

Gallifreyan (Yeah-huh, sure)

Italian (The multiple languages, the odd level of malevolence, the Dora reference...it's DC)

Gallifreyan (DC is quite special, then, isn't it?)

Italian (You have no idea)

Gallifreyan (

Italian (cries)

Russian (hugs)