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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Deserved' it? Those are the words of vengeance, not justice. You're quite the little toy monster, aren't you? No wonder my TARDIS always tried to avoid you.

And you are so familiar with their distinction? I have never claimed nobility, Master. I am not contained by your morality. Nor am I a toy monster. She did not avoid me! She never avoided me!

Very familiar, and with those words of yours, too.

Didn't she? When was the last time you two got to interact, hm? Or rather, as she's already dead in your universe, what was the last thing you said to her?

Edited 2008-07-28 01:24 (UTC)

What does it matter to you what was said between us? It cannot be changed now.

She was my TARDIS.

And you did not care for her. Why should I tell you anything about a creature you showed no concern for but whom I loved?

I'll take it if you won't speak it.

You're bluffing. I won't let you in.

[amused] You can't stop me.

I can. [still, she shifts a little nervously] You are not as strong as you believe yourself to be, Master.

Let's try that out, shall we?

[he takes one step forwards, presses his fingers to her temples, and rips right into her mind]

[she wasn't prepared for that and so screams, clawing at his hands and trying to cordon off her thoughts, her memories. she doesn't want him to see her last words to Lolita, their heated argument, or the fact that the TARDIS ran away for fear of rejection before it ever finished. as quickly as she can, she throws up barriers, stone walls and barricades, trying desperately to keep him out and away from her damning thoughts]

[But Lolita is his, and the Master's finds and takes what is his. Those memories belong to him as much as they do the TARDIS, and it is with this bloody minded conviction that he tears through her barricades, heedless of what damage he might be doing]

[right now, it's all superficial, but she's determined and desperate enough to get away that she begins retreating deeper into her mind where her barriers are stronger, but more damaging to be torn down. Lolita is the one secret she never wanted known, even to the Doctor, and she will fight tooth and nail to keep it that way, even though the Master hurts her]

[he stops, there. It's not hesitation; it's surveying the area for attack. He moves along the edges, looking for the weakness - for there is always a weakness, and when he finds it, the walls will come crashing down]

[the TARDIS waits on the other side, working to fortify her defenses, but she can only focus on one segment at a time, leaving a blind spot open just slightly behind and to her right. a head-on attack will not work, not here, but a flanking maneuver, well.]

[and he sees this, dodging in and tearing through. He'll have those memories]

[shudders in pain, collapsing to her knees and holding her head] Stop...! They are mine -- she is mine! You cannot do this...!

No, she is mine. As are you. [kneels with her to keep contact]

Let me go, please...! They are mine! Please, don't ... don't take them from me...!

No. [and now he digs them up, playing them so that they both can see]

[shakes her head] These aren't yours! I don't want to see this again. Master, please.

No.

[struggles a little longer, desperate, but as their argument comes to a close and the TARDIS watches herself flee, she simply slumps, shoulders hunched] I hate you. Will you tell the Doctor, then? Reveal all my secrets to him? Destroy the sanctity of my memories?

Why would I? She has nothing to do with him.