01. And now for something completely different

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

[The Doctor is smiling happily and humming a Beatles song to himself.] Ah, The Beatles. Earth has produced quite the preeminent collection of musicians, though few compare to The Beatles. Oh, but I can't forget Miles Davis and John Coltrane, now, can I? Different favorites for different genres. I couldn't very well compare a rock 'n' roll band to jazz luminaries, it's hardly an even playing field. So to speak.

[Glancing at the food and drink he's precariously balancing in his hands, the Doctor ponders what he's currently holding.] I don't have the affinity for bacon sandwiches that Ace does, but chips are rather nice on occasion, and I must say, I do enjoy these chocolate malts. Far more delicious than carrot juice.

[At last, he realizes he's not on a street, or anywhere near Harry's Café, the place he only just left. It's hard to determine when exactly the scenery changed, but this is most certainly not where he's supposed to be. It's different, and he supposes it should be disconcerting, but with no sign of an immediate threat, he allows himself a moment to appreciate the view.] Well, this is peculiar.

Comments

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

I don't find it to be any powerful confession by admitting what we both already know: you continue to shadow me across the universe, and though it may be decades between visits, I'm constantly reminded of your presence, your power, your influence in my life.

[Takes a sip of his drink, a dark expression on his face]

It's a fact that I can never elude you, and have yet to completely best you.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

You make a man swoon with your words, Doctor.

[clearly, he isn't swooning, but the Master seems pleased regardless as he drinks]

I think I like this you; you paint it all so poetically.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

[Rather than reacting, the Doctor takes a few steps to the left, then back to the right, feeling restless]

Isn't there a human saying about words being loaded pistols? It seems only right that words, if they are so powerful, should be beautiful when they hit you, and hurt you, and linger in your soul.

[Another sip]

Do you suppose, then, that words might be one of the only true constants? We remember them when we forget all else.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Now that isn't true. You remember how to walk, to breathe, to think, though perhaps not precisely as it was before. Language is along those lines.

And I could make a really bad crack about Christianity right now, but you haven't got to the stage where you really deserve to be taunted about your Messiah Complex, not quite yet.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

Unless grave injury were suffered, it would be difficult to forget acquired functions. Those are skills we learn, though certainly some skills and abilities can atrophy if not utilized with some degree of frequency.

I mean, however, that if you compare the memory of words with the remembrance of physical features, voice, smells, and sounds, we often seem to place more importance on the impact of language.

[Sighing]

Not that it matters much when you don't really speak for centuries.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[dryly]

I still remember what happens if we fight like animals, so perhaps you're right there.

[the Master walks over the bar and leans against the counter, looking over the Doctor]

Do you really believe it's been centuries of silence, Doctor?

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

[He opens his mouth to answer, but stops. There were times when it certainly felt that way, despite the threats and promises and the many things said in anger, the few things said quietly. It all felt like a din, amounting to little more than silence. But it's certainly not silence now, is it?]

Perhaps I'm speaking of something else, Master.

[He knows. He's speaking of his hearts]

A place with echoes.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[The Master's eyes flicker down to the Doctor's chest. Were it another Doctor, he might have stepped forwards and pressed the palm of his hand flat against the place between both the Doctor's heart]

I hear it's dark in there, you know. I've looked.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

[Tread carefully now, he thinks, more to himself than the Master.]

I believe you've done more than that.

[Has he said too much?]

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

[The Master holds up a hand, looking it over]

No, no blood, is there? Can't be that I did anything more than look.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

[Holding up his own hand, bringing it close to the Master's, but not quite touching]

The blood's faded by now. No trace. Just the way you wanted it. You look now, but you didn't always just look.

[Curling his hand into a small fist]

You wanted...want more than that.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

Don't get upset, Doctor. It's bad for your constitution.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

Your presence is far from soothing.

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

I could always leave.

[timewill-tell.livejournal.com]

Do you wish to? Or do you think that's what I want?

[savagestime.livejournal.com]

I know what you want. And I think that the pieces have shifted just enough that, in this regeneration, you can admit it.