realityshifted | (no subject)

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doctor who (d1) narvin

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[With a distinct lack of ceremony, a man abruptly appears on the Plane. He is thin and sly, perhaps vaguely reminiscent of a weasel, and dressed in the working uniform of the Celestial Intervention Agency, for those who would recognise it. His tired, weary look is quickly replaced with one of surprise when arrives, and he is instantly wary.]

No. No, this isn’t the Matrix. We would have noticed if there had been a Matrix door this close to the Cloisters. This shouldn’t be possible.

[He turns in a circle, observing his surroundings with an air of suspicion.]

Commander Hallan?

Madame President? ...Romana?

[There is no answer, and Narvin begins to look even more alarmed. He makes another turn, this time taking in the mismatched mix of buildings and objects that are on the Plane. Unamused with the entire situation, he crosses his arms, his tone acerbic.]

If whoever is behind this would care to reveal themselves, now would be an excellent time. I must return to Gallifrey. I don’t have the time for whatever game this is.

[...there's probably a joke to be made here about a Time Lord not having any time.]

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[Braxiatel was enjoying tea at his hot mahogany desk. It was Japanese black tea, for the record, and the leaves go at a thousand dollars a pound in modern currency. Braxiatel is so startled that he spills his tea over the holoscreen he was looking at, and the whole thing short circuits.]

[In very quick succession, shock jumps straight over to horror, which then slides smoothly into a sense of 'What did I do to deserve this?' Then Braxiatel shrugs, remembering a handful of things he has done which might make one think he deserves this. This acceptance helps Braxiatel slide back into the final stage of acceptance: wry, dry, smug half-amusement.]

[Mind you, the smugness is now somewhat tempered by the tea that is on his desk, which he is now mopping up with his handkerchief.]

My dear Coordinator. How good it is to see you! Come, sit. I'll explain everything. Well, most of it, anyway.

[For Narvin's part, his surprise at seeing Braxiatel is only surpassed by his surprise that Braxiatel is actually offering to explain something. He crosses his arms, attempting impassivity but only managing irritation.]

Cardinal Braxiatel. It would you, wouldn't it?

No, it wouldn't be, Narvin, but your paranoia is a credit to the CIA as always. Would you care for some tea? Don't worry; this tea is too charming to poison.

[Braxiatel offers his now-wet handkerchief one last despairing look before setting it aside, then starts clearing away papers from his desk's surface. Conveniently, this removes that sketch he always keeps on his desk, the one of a woman with a wry smile and a proud tilt of the chin, completely out of sight as it gets buried under other papers.]

I would care for an explanation, Braxiatel.

[But he takes a seat nevertheless, finding some small bit of private amusement that his appearance so startled the unshakable Cardinal. He misses the sketch, but he does cast a glance over the paperwork -- he's not looking for anything in particular, but knowledge in any form is always helpful.]

Another Time Lord?

{She smiles a little} You're not really far from Gallifrey, actually. You can just go back there by thinking about it.

As charming as ever, Coordinator. It's good to see that working clothes haven't altered your attitude.

[Most of the papers are reports of sorts - artefacts being transferred, expeditions needing signing off, building licenses for a university, special scholarships for students, papers demanding pay rises and vacation time, intergalactic treaties he's wanted for, chairs of conferences they'd like him to sit at, that sort of thing - and some of it is marked in the seal of the Braxiatel Collection, which happens to incorporate elements of the Seal of Rassilon.]

[Fun fact for the Coordinator's paranoia: among the various bric-a-brac assembled on Braxiatel's desk (like the tankard Brax got from the Armageddon Convention or the plaque that announces Brax the Custodian of the Library of St John the Beheaded), there is a long paper knife designed to be the miniature of a sword, complete with hilt. The blood has been washed off, but it has been used to kill before, and could be used to that same purpose again.]

[Just something for him to think about.]

Would you prefer it in the written form, or shall I simply answer your questions in person? Both, you'll be grieved to hear, will mean accepting information I give as the truth, but needs must.

[Provided with this interesting information, Narin can't help but to focus on one thing in particular:]

How did you know I'm a Time Lord?

[Oh, how lovely. Always nice to see potential weapons sitting on one's enemy's desk.]

I think both options would cover things. Where are we?

Oh, I can hear your hearts. Time Lords are the only people I've met with two, so I just assume by now.

It's called the Astral Plane. For the stars, I'd assume. It's outside normal space and time. It is also a meeting point between multiple universes of varying rules. Not one of ours, I'm afraid.

[Braxiatel pours a cup of tea for Narvin and slides it over to him.]

[Narvin accepts it, but doesn't drink.]

And it doesn't manage to collapse in upon itself? How very interesting. What sort of 'varying rules'?

You can hear them.

[...okay, she has excellent hearing. Noted and filed away for future reference.]

And returning to Gallifrey is done how, exactly?

I...can, yes. I'm a vampire. But not like the kinds that you don't like, I promise.

{After a pause, she continues} But you just think about going home, and you will. It's easy.

Magic, to begin with. I've met a handful of witches and wizards; it's really quite exciting. And there are some interesting individuals wielding technology well beyond their time period.

[After the briefest of considerations, Braxiatel decides not to tell Narvin about the vampires. It... just slips his mind that the vampire is mentally unstable and could possibly be provoked into violence, if Narvin made the wrong steps on meeting her.]

[Whoops!]

It also manages to sustain multiple instances of a Time Lord crossing his own timestream without causing any collapses in causality. How are things back home, by the way? It's so hard to get the news when one has been exiled.

[Braxiatel picks up a crumpet and dips it in his tea. Narvin does not deserve Brax's best manners! And it's very good tea.]

[Oh Brax, you sneaky bastard.]

Magic. Oh, of course. And multiple incarnations of one Time Lord -- I'll assume you are not referring to yourself in this instance. The Doctor, perhaps?

[Narvin's jaw tightens at Brax's last question, and his reply is short and clipped -- he doesn't believe for a second that Braxiatel is unable to get news of his home whenever he wants it.]

We're at war.

[Well, it's not the most ridiculous form of transportation he's ever heard of, so he'll give it a shot. He concentrates on Gallifrey for a moment, then disappears. Several seconds later, he pops back onto the Plane.]

How very useful.

[He returns his focus to Diva, and there is a slight wariness in his glance, an instincitve tenseness in his shoulders.]

A haemovore, then? There are several such species in the universe that only bear superficial resemblance to the Great Vampires.

[Braxiatel is sure that Narvin won't be stupid enough to provoke her. Unfortunately.]

Intelligent, quick, devious, and observant. [It isn't just the exact set of words he used in that conversation; Braxiatel is purposefully using identical intonation to how he said it then, too.] Yes, there are a handful of him, some of them from histories alternate to the one we know. A number of others of our people, too, but the dominant species is human.

[Neither confirming nor denying Narvin's beliefs, Braxiatel seems entirely unperturbed.] Are you? How eventful. I do hope Leela's enjoying herself. Send her my love, won't you? It's nice to see you've finally chosen the right side, by the way.

Edited 2010-05-27 20:45 (UTC)

I guess so. I drink blood, and I'm immortal, but...I'm not really anything like the vampires that the Time Lords hate. I'm just a girl.

And the purpose of bringing so many individuals here is?

[And now Narvin actually takes a sip of that tea. He may as well -- supplies in the Vaults are limited.]

Given the other option, I chose the one that didn't lead directly into being infected with the new Dogma virus and supporting a warmongering dictator.

[That, of course, is not why he did it at all.]

So I see. If you truly were one of the Vampires from our legends, I highly doubt we would be having this little chat at all.

We're test subjects. No one's been very forthcoming about what sort of experiments are intended, but that would be asking far too much of our hosts.

[Braxiatel opens up one of the desk drawers and takes out one of the brochures. He slides that over to Narvin's side of the desk.]

Surely your old chum Darkel would protect you? I assume that the Inquisitor has sided with the warmongering dictator. It's only fitting.

Edited 2010-05-27 21:25 (UTC)

Ne, I'm glad that you're more...reasonable, then. Not everyone here is.

[well someone has to make that joke, haven't they]

Not having the time? That's rather over the top for someone meant to be lording over it.

[He takes the brochure, skimming through it briefly.]

If by protect, you mean set up to be vaporised for treason, then yes, she would. And of course she has. I expect she plans to take over once said warmongering dictator has been killed, one way or another.

I'm practical. It's a trait most of my kind have difficulty with.

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