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

Now that, that is funny.

[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]

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

Oh, that's just not nice.

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]

[shakes his head]

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

[looks down at his shirt]

And that was really immature.

[glances up at the Doctor]

You're getting sentimental again, I can tell.

Are you mocking me again?

[sighs, then relaxes back into his chair. The Master has decided that the only way to get the Doctor to go away is to ignore him]

So now we just sit here, then? Both too stubborn to leave?

[that's also fairly amusing]

I don't envy my other self.

[amusing or not, the Master's not speaking. He digs out a book from his pocket - War of the Worlds, an old favourite. The Doctor will get bored, and meanwhile, the Master can read]

[Oh, not that book. He's purposefully ignoring the Doctor's bruised-wine-covered-self. Now the Doctor's irritated]

Master.

[louder]

Master!

Edited 2008-07-28 02:41 (UTC)

[the Master turns the page]

[bounds over to the Master]

Master! I know you can understand proper names. You know I'm talking to you.

Fine. Fine, you don't have to talk to me. Not like I could understand you.

[YOU WIN THIS TIME MASTER. Vanishes from the Plane.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

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

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

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

Gallifreyan (Maths is my life!)

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

Gallifreyan (English isn't serious about me)

Italian (You can't really believe that.)

Gallifreyan (Come on. English is never serious about anything)

Italian (English writes epic love poems. For you!)

Gallifreyan (for /everyone/)

Italian (It's all a front because English is too shy to talk to you)

Gallifreyan (Not true. English is a whore. Can you name a language it hasn't been with?)

Italian (American. They're a different species.)