great minds against themselves conspire

[collector]

[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.

Comments

[bit_impossible]

[he smiles wryly, continuing to approach him] Oh, how could I not worry? We're family, after all, and yet you always try to hide these things from me...

[collector]

I hope this isn't a prelude to one of your morally dubious interrogatives.

[bit_impossible]

Nothing of the sort! I've yet to ask one, after all. I just want to find out if you're all right. It's not everyday I see something like that happen, especially to you.

[collector]

You'll find I'm quite happy with my condition just presently. That . . . annoyance has passed. And, I hope, done with.

[bit_impossible]

In this place? [he laughs bitterly] Not likely. You're an idiot if you really believe that. I would've thought you'd know better than to think otherwise.

[collector]

I believe your bitterness is showing. With an interesting mix of condescension. Now, as there are monsters prowling the Plane, I'd advise against standing out here and talking about it.

[bit_impossible]

Oh yes, let's go and hide away, avoid everything frightening and threatening around here. Shall I find you a small room to hide in? I know I was brought into one a while ago. Have you made a visit there yourself yet? You'd like it.

[collector]

Actually, I have something of an aversion to small rooms. They're difficult to decorate.

[bit_impossible]

That's not the point! [suddenly reaches for Brax, grabbing his shoulder]

[collector]

[Braxiatel's response to this is to lift an eyebrow.] Do you want something, Doctor?

[bit_impossible]

I do. You know, I've always wanted to know something. Why, when you have all of the universe and time to explore, do you stay in one place and era, surrounding yourself with all those rare collectibles? You might as well have stayed on Gallifrey and imported them! I couldn't wait to escape from there.

[collector]

I think that's presenting it as a false dichotomy and very much misrepresenting what the Collection is for. Some of us don't like to wander constantly.

[bit_impossible]

Some of us don't have a choice! Just like how I don't have a choice seeing my friends turn up on your Collection and--[he stops himself, letting his anger wash away from him with an easy smile, his tone light, but cruel] No, it doesn't matter. What happens when they leave me is all on their heads. Let them cry over leaving me too soon.

[collector]

And may the salt of their tears make their harvests die and doom their people to famine?

[bit_impossible]

Very biblical and dramatic of you, but no. They can be just like Oliver, lost little boys and girls too hurt and broken and stubborn to realise that they had a chance for me to fix them, but threw it back in my face instead.

[collector]

I think there's something to be said for people learning to fix themselves.

[bit_impossible]

Well, they really haven't got a choice now, have they? [glances towards the forest and starts walking towards it and glances over his shoulder] You wanted to head in there. You coming--or do the overhanging branches lend itself to a subtle form of claustrophobia and ruin your design scheme?

[collector]

[Braxiatel stands his ground] Doctor. You know you're not yourself, don't you? You're acting---unkindly. And, yes, you've your moments, as we all do, but this is rather grand. I hope that bothers you.

[bit_impossible]

[he smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. there's no sign of warmness in his expression]

What do you think?

[collector]

I think you're not at your best today, and you're not far from your worst.

[bit_impossible]

[still grins] Is that all? Really, that's nothing.

[collector]

Well. There's always the possibility that you are a dangerous alternate version of yourself utterly devoid of tact.

[bit_impossible]

[strides over to him, his voice low] Shall we test that, Brax?

[collector]

[Braxiatel just looks at the Doctor, cold---and a little disappointed.] It isn't in your best interests to test me.

[bit_impossible]

Ohhhhh, but I want to, Brax. See, I have a thing about buttons in this incarnation. I see nice, big shiny one and I just can't help...pushing it. [and he pokes him in the chest when he says that. seems like the most obnoxious thing to do]