realityshifted | great minds against themselves conspire

[Sometimes, it won't all stay locked away. Sometimes the seal can't take the pressure. Sometimes the maze won't keep the monster in. Sometimes the jar cracks apart and all the evils come pouring out into the universe.

Sometimes, you just can't hide the pain you're in.

And Irving Braxiatel can't, though he tries to make it to the forest before he cracks, because that pain is written all over him. Oh, his clothing is as immaculate as ever, his skin is unblemished, not a single hair is out of place. But his bones are all jagged angles, his muscles constricted, and his mouth is sealed tight to try to contain any expression suffering.

Braxiatel covers his face with his hands, presses at his head with his fingertips. He staggers in his walk—sinks to his knees, shaking. His mouth opens—not to scream, but to soundlessly recite ancient equations, one last incantation against something terrible and old. Because if he holds on just a little longer, he can overcome this, he can take back control, he can draw it all in. If he holds it together just a little longer, he can win.]

[And then Braxiatel goes perfectly still. He closes his mouth and, slowly, draws his hands away from his face. He gets one foot out from under him, pulls himself up, stands for a moment in silence. Then he straightens out his suit and looks himself over without a reflection. Braxiatel sighs a breath of relief, for victory and for hard-won control. Slow, steady, his eyes rake over the Plane. No monsters drawn by his faltering. Good.]

Well. That was more trouble than it ought to have been, wasn't it? I'll have to get something for these migraines.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Narvin saw that little display, but there's no sympathy in his eyes. He's tense, wary -- more so than usual, even. He doesn't speak, just waits to see what Braxiatel will do, to see if he really is in control.]

[Braxiatel notices Narvin immediately. He doesn't approach him, of course. Interventionists are always such skittish things.] Coordinator. It is good, as ever, to see you.

Having trouble, Braxiatel?

You know how it gets. Busy job, lots of work to do. It inspires the most painful migraines. I was thinking of taking an aspirin.

And spend the next few days being dead and out of the way? It wouldn't help for long. Your... affliction isn't so easily dissuaded.

[calmly] You think you know what it is.

Don't I?

I doubt it. You've been without half the facts for quite a while now. It's unlikely that has changed.

[He still hasn't moved -- keeping his distance seems the safest bet at the moment.]

And what facts would those be? Your control is slipping -- hallucinations alone wouldn't cause that.

[Braxiatel doesn't move either.] If I told you, my dramatic reveal wouldn't be half so exciting, would it?

[His voice becomes a little less irreverent and a little more cold.] Besides that. I'd rather not give you any more information than you already have. You haven't proven yourself good at keeping it to yourself.

[And Narvin's, in turn, becomes mocking.]

Worried about what I may tell your precious Bernice, Braxiatel?

[Braxiatel is almost impressed by the level of blind stupidity this demonstrates. But then, perhaps it's not that stupid. Braxiatel can't effectively eliminate Narvin by killing him, and hypnotic blocks can be difficult to execute when they're expected.]

I see you are up to your usual standards, Coordinator. What you may tell Bernice is far less concerning than what you may do to jeopardize Gallifrey.

[No, no, it's stupidity. Stupidity that's fuelled by a growing desire to see Brax hurt, but stupidity nonetheless. As it is, he keeps his eyes on Braxiatel, as tightly wound as a piano wire.]

And you, of course, have Gallifrey's best interests at hearts.

More than you know. Which is, I believe, the start of this little discussion. It may be in your best interests to leave.

And why is that?

Because you're wasting your time and mine by being here. You must have other business to attend to.

Nothing pressing. Unless, of course, you have somewhere to be. Other than on your knees in the forest, I mean.

Don't let Mr Kane catch you saying things like that, Narvin. He'll think our people are worth adding to his fictions.

Perhaps he'll write about how very loyal the President's Chancellor is.

Ex-Chancellor, courtesy of a knife that you so cleanly placed into my back as I was walking out the door.

[with barely-hidden viciousness]

You didn't deserve the title.

No? Because I don't have Gallifrey's best interests at hearts? Or because you just don't like you? Clouding political judgements with personal feelings is dangerous irrational behaviour.

Your vaunted 'Academy Project' has led to Gallifrey's downfall. You allowed alien terrorists into our home, so secure in your belief that you were 'doing the right thing' that you couldn't even see what they were up to.

No, we mustn't allow morals to get in the way of security, mustn't we?

Tell me, Narvin. What do you think is going to happen when you win your civil war? Do you think Romana will be reinstated? Do you think someone else - someone so much more manipulative and ambitious - will take control? And what, do you imagine, will the other temporal powers do when we're this weak?

[snapping] I kept my people safe. You and those wretched aliens have as good as killed them.

[Narvin doesn't realise he's trembling with anger.]

Do you think I care who becomes President after all of this? I don't require their authority to save my planet.