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 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.

Master.

[he's internally conflicted, but he follows the Master's instructions even if he can't understand them and releases his jacket]

[releases the Doctor's wrists, gaze never wavering]

What do you want, Doctor?

[only understands the word 'Doctor']

What do you want, Master?

You know, Doctor, I think a Harry Potter quote would be appropriate right now.

And that's more disturbing than our 'cosmic battle' itself.

[he sits again the armchair, every bit imperious, never looking away from the Doctor]

I'm not leaving. You'll have to walk away from me.

Edited 2008-07-27 06:43 (UTC)

This is getting us nowhere.

[stands, slowly, and wipes the blood from his nose]

Can't usually understand you even when you're talking my language.

But you never seem to get what I'm saying, anyway, do you?

[spins the step of the wine glass in his fingers, stirring up the liquid into a whirlpool as he considers the Doctor]

[takes a half step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets]

Probably better this way. I can't comprehend that you're insulting me and you've got no way to tell me to leave.

I could throw the wine glass at you. But it's really good wine.

Are you offering me wine? I'm not interested, thanks. Alcohol'll burn this cut on my lip.

Hm. Well, I suppose this may work.

[lifts a hand, gesturing our with a backhanded sweep, in what one hopes might convey 'shoo']

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 =D

Galliferyan :D;

Italian (it's the language of looooove)

Gallifreyan (It's the language of maaaaaaths)

Italian (*ph33rs the maaaaaaths*)

Gallifreyan (Surely you love the maths?)

Italian (Maths and I had a fight back in grade school, haven't been the same since)

Gallifreyan (I think I'm in an abusive relationship with maths)

Italian (Have you ever thought how sweet your life could be if you just let maths go?)

Gallifreyan (But I love maths!!)

Russian (hugs)

Italian (ph33rs the maaaaaaths)