(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

Italian (You have no idea)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[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!

Gallifreyan (

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

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

Remove your hands, Doctor.

Italian =D

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Master.

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

Galliferyan :D;

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

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

What do you want, Doctor?

Italian (it's the language of looooove)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[only understands the word 'Doctor']

What do you want, Master?

Gallifreyan (It's the language of maaaaaaths)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

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.

Italian (*ph33rs the maaaaaaths*)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

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.

Gallifreyan (Surely you love the maths?)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

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]

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

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[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.

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

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

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

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

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

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

Gallifreyan (But I love maths!!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Hm. Well, I suppose this may work.

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

Italian (You only think you love maths.)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Are you trying to tell me to leave?

Sorry, free Plane here, Master. You can leave.

Gallifreyan (I know I do! Our love is true!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[rolls his eyes]

I've told your other selves before: you're an absolute child this regeneration.

Italian (If it's true, then why does it hurt so much?)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Ah, and I have no doubt you're either mocking or insulting me again. I can't even defend myself!

[laughs at the absurdity of this situation]

Gallifreyan (Love hurts)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Aaaaaand he's cracked. Visibly, that is. It was only a matter of time, I suppose.

Italian (But true love heals!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[obviously more mocking? Oh, that brings on more laughter. Yeah, cracked is probably a good word for it]

Gallifreyan (Not before it scars you!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[this stops the dry, 'holier-than-thou' act, bringing the Master to simply stare at the Doctor. He's wondering if he should be concerned]

[Of course, he stops the glass spinning as well, and that sends the wine sloshing up the sides and splattering all over his shirt cuff]

Oh, just brilliant.

Italian (I bet maths is just counting the scars! It's a mockery of love!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Now that, that is funny.

Gallifreyan (No, maths loves me! It said so!!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[calmly, without even looking at the Doctor, throws the wine glass approximately at the Doctor's chest, then pulls out a handkerchief and starts dabbing off his cuffs]

Italian (You should leave maths before you waste your life!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[it hits, of course, and the Doctor manages a disgusted look through his laughter]

Oh, that's just not nice.

Gallifreyan (Maths is my life!)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Everything sounds sillier in Italian.

[frowns, then pulls out his laser screwdriver, flicking through the functions until he found the one he wanted: emergency clothes cleaner]

Definitely better than sonic.

[meticulously begins cleaning off the red on white]

Italian (You can have more to your life! Think about how much English loves you!)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

[shakes his head]

We're always at an impasse, Master. Compatible languages or not.

[looks down at his shirt]

And that was really immature.

Gallifreyan (English isn't serious about me)

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[glances up at the Doctor]

You're getting sentimental again, I can tell.

Italian (You can't really believe that.)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Are you mocking me again?