realityshifted | From The New World

Entry tags:

doctor who (d1) braxiatel

From The New World

[Ahh, that old, familiar sight. A hard-working individual at a desk, diligently filing through paperwork.]

[Or, perhaps not.]

[Indeed, at this particular mahogany writing desk, the 'hard-worker' in question is toying with what appears to be a model planet, suspended in mid air above the surface. His fingertip is sliding a small block over the surface of the globe like a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit in. It is, of course, all a hologram. Occasionally he mutters something vague under his breath, like:]

No, let's not build anything over Avril's caves. Heaven knows what she'll do to any poor undergraduate girls she can get her hands on.

[or perhaps:]

Could work. I'm not legally culpable if a griffin eats someone, anyway...

[Bach's Suite No 2 in B minor accompanies his musings, as does a cup of tea and a plate full of crumpets and Garibaldi biscuits. How tough it is to be Irving Braxiatel.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[she can't help but laugh, genuinely delighted by a term she hasn't heard in far too long]

Pulling out the Martian now, are we Brax? Experience tells me I should be extremely worried that you're trying to charm me into something I'd really rather not do.

[Braxiatel starts guiding her over to the forest. Smiling lightly, he decides to test his archaeologist's talents. Braxiatel starts talking entirely in Old High Martian.]

Shsurr, your allegation wounds. All I want is an innocent walk.

[and there's nothing that can delight more than High Martian and she really can't help but laugh at that.

She responds in High Martian as well]

Innocent never sounds quite that innocent when speaking Martian, does it?

The harshness of the glottal stop, I think.

[He leads her into the forest. In that peculiar way of his, he is careful to keep her pace, to help her over obstacles and move aside branches that are in the path.]

A forest out here. It's amazing the things that seem to fit in the most unexpected places.

[she raises an eyebrow at the chivalry and there is a smirk there but she stops short of actually saying anything to him, letting him carry on in that way she hasn't seen in quite some time.]

It's amazing what people will bring to a place. And what will grow from those pieces.

[Braxiatel moves aside some large, heavy leaves to reveal a handful of flowers - yellow, each with six petals. He crouches down beside them, glancing up at Benny.]

It's a... [with an apologetic smile, he changes languages to Gallifreyan] A Memento mori. The Gallifreyan Flower of Remembrance. [He switches back into Martian, apparently with ease.] I was quite surprised to find any here.

[her smile grows softer and she kneels down beside him, looking over the flowers. She brushes her hands over them, before looking back at Brax. The Gallifreyan was much more difficult for her to understand, but she gets the general idea. She forgets their language game for the moment, slipping back to English] I've never seen them before. They're...they're fantastic. [her attention falls back to the flowers] I should take some back for Mr. Crofton. He would love them in his gardens.

[clearing his throat] You really oughtn't. They're only grown on my home planet and I'd much prefer that things stay that way. Possession of Gallifreyan flora is perhaps one of the easiest ways to signal to the universe that a Lord of the Temporal variety - and his rather high-class time ship - are present on the Collection.

[apologetic] I realized this might be your only chance to see them, so I wanted to share.

[she resists the urge to pocket one and promptly puts her hands away before she does just that. She reaches out a hand for his, under the guise of using his hand to help her stand up properly again. She doesn't push herself up completely at first though]

Thank you.

[and then she fully pushes herself up to a stand and brushes her hands off]

I knew a professor once who tried to tell me about the language of flowers or some nonsense along those lines. He thought he was very clever and would try to give me flowers to send certain messages. No matter how many times I tried to tell him I wasn't interested he would continue bothering me, until finally I figured out how to communicate with him. So I sent him yellow carnations and butterfly weeds, and he quickly got the message. Unfortunately for an entire week after that I received a litany of not very nice things said in flowers.

[her smile turns teasing] So I must say, I can't help but notice that your [tries to repeat it back in Gallifreyan to the best of her ability, although she lacks the ability to say it quite right] Memento Mori remind me of a particularly large bouquet of yellow narcissus flowers I was lucky enough to receive in those weeks.

Edited 2010-05-22 08:04 (UTC)

[Braxiatel opts not to go into detail about how Flowers of Remembrance are used on his home planet. His smile matches hers as he guides her back out of the forest.] Benny. Would I insult you like that?

[There is always something fun about deliberate misinterpretation. Out through the other end of the forest, Braxiatel wraps an arm around Benny's shoulders and points down with his free hand. Beneath their feet is a cluster of stars, including a set of twin suns.]

That, Professor Summerfield, is the home of the Flower of Remembrance. This is the constellation of Kasterborous.

[she can't help moving a little closer at the arm around her shoulder. She looks down to where he's pointing, her fascination and wonder evident as the constellation lies below her feet. She can't help but smile in a way that holds no teasing any longer. Her breath is taken away for the smallest fraction of a second before she regains it again.]

It's absolutely bloody gorgeous, Brax.

[It has been centuries since he has seen these stars. If he talks too loudly, they'll hear him, and it will all go up in ice or flames. Because stars are eyes, that's the oldest of metaphors. In the shadow of this forest, they can't see him. Everyone is safe this way.]

Yes, Bernice. It truly is.

[in this one instance she follows his cue, and her voice stays quiet as well]

Did you bring them here or did they go and find you?

Contrary to popular belief, I can't rearrange the stars on my whims. Not here, anyway. [With a quiet gesture, he indicates the twin stars.] Our suns.

[she doesn't even stop to think of what the answer might be, this feels more like playing a role with Brax, which she oddly doesn't mind since this all feels like it is so very important to him. So she'll let him play teacher and she will for once let herself fall into the role of student without any fuss]

Do they have names?

The second one, the one built by our Lord Founder Omega, is called 'Pogar.' The first has no name we dare speak. It's not unlike Earth's sun, in this era. My people have halted our first sun's death; it shall neither flux nor wither nor change its state. It's like everything else Gallifreyan, that way.

[Letting go of the breath he didn't know he was holding, he directs her to another area] Karn is there, hiding in those shadows. And there... Once, that was Minyos. It's gone now. Completely devastated. Not even preserved in this constellation out of time. Our arrogance saw it destroyed in less time than it takes to breathe a dying breath.

[He draws his hand back in.] How do you find it, Professor Summerfield? The Seven Systems and its Shining World. The place from which, I flatter myself to say, two of your closest friends originate.

[she nods and looks when directed to, although at the last statement, she can't hide the smirk that's growing. She bites her lip and then looks at him as innocently and nonchalantly as she can muster]

Wolsey is a Gallifreyan? Goddess, I really should have noticed it earlier with how entitled he acts, but I just always assumed that was just part of being a cat. Oh well, I'll just have to have a talk with him about this when I get home, won't I?

[totally unruffled] It's perfectly possible. I seem to recall a brilliant young scientist who was exiled because a mouse from one of her experiments killed the President's cat.

She should be lucky that's all that happened. If I was the president, well, said brilliant young scientist would be wishing for exile.

You, a President? Oh, please no. One is bad enough.

Are you saying I wouldn't make a good president? I would make a cruking fabulous one, and you know it!

May we never find out the truth of that claim.

You do realize that it's not inevitable that I'll become a president eventually in some shape or form, don't you?

I thought I'd get my protests in ahead of time.

Yes, well presently your protests are duly noted, catalogued and preserved. So please fully expect for all these pesky past protests to be suitably addressed sometime in my political future.

Or perhaps I'll be lucky enough to avoid politics all together. That would be the preferred route, if I had to choose.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject