𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙳. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙳. the frigid air in the time vortex , swirling all around her. drawing her in deeper with its sweet promises of warmth and comfort ——— and to think she’d been foolish enough to believe such a thing. ( she should know by now , that the vortex plays tricks upon the un - suspecting … upon the too trusting , and those full of hope. she , is all three. ) master. she calls out into the vastness of space , un - surprised when the only response she receives is the whizzing of another space craft , flying too close to her. how long as she been here now … how many faces had he gone through ? would he even come looking for her , after so long ? centuries. all of them. no. the vortex replies. her only source of companionship , become her most trusted confidante. master. stop calling for him , the vortex sighs. he has abandoned you. come , join me instead.
no. all at once , the red telephone box floating in space roars to life. for the first time in a long time , lights glow from inside the box , and there’s a whirring noise ( the sound of a war - torn engine come to life ) before the doors fling open and the box speeds through the vortex , collecting star - dust && time - energy in its wake , gathering it in the ship’s very own console room ; a whirlwind of energy , cascading all around , seeping through the cracks in the ship ———— FINDING ITS HOME , IN A PIECE OF TARDIS CORAL TUCKED AWAY. FORGOTTEN , UNTIL NOW. a piece of coral that , linked with the rest of the ship as she was , wanted nothing more than to find a way to reunite with her time lord , once again.
the process is slow. painstakingly so. it is decades before the coral begins to take the shape of a woman ; a woman with hair as red as the box itself , skin as pale as the moon upon which the box rests , once it leaves the vortex , and eyes a shining green , like the star - dust that helps bring life to the small piece of coral coral. and decades more after that , that the very soul of the tardis herself begins to seep into this new body.
𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝚄𝙳𝙳𝙴𝙽𝙻𝚈 , 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶. burning with life. hot to the touch , as the newly - formed woman rises shakily to her feet and takes her first gasping breath , gazing around the room with wide eyes before rushing towards the console room , throwing open the doors and smiling wildly into the vastness of space. ❛ thank you , universe. ❜ she murmurs , surprised to hear herself speak the language of her precious time lord out loud. but this , this body , is only the beginning. and first , she must take the time to learn how this body works. what it needs to survive. everything needs something after all , and if this pang of hunger in her stomach tells her anything , it is that she cannot survive only on the hope of finding her time lord.
earth. he’d always liked earth , she remembers. had delighted in watching it burn , ever since she’d taken him to see it as a time - tot. and though this is not the first planet she has scoured in search for him , it brings her the most hope. most of all , when out of the corner of her eye thetardis spots an electronic billboard. unsure as to why it draws her attention , she pauses to watch the picture … as it shows the image of a man ; hair as dark as a black hole , piercing gaze. commanding gaze. she cannot take her eyes off him , though the tardis hardly knows why. when the image disappears , she turns to her left. ❛ excuse me ? who … who was that man , the one on the billboard , with the black hair ? ❜
the woman standing beside her looks at her as though she must be insane. “ girl , are you from another planet ?! “ she exclaims , earning her a sardonic smile from the red headed woman. “ that’s HAROLD SAXON. only one of the hottest figures to ever appearthis past year. seriously , how could you not know ? “
❛ do you know where I might terribly find him ? ❜ the tardis frowns , thinking that there is something about him , that suggests he may know where her time lord is.
“ you’re out of luck girl , he literally just lefttown. but he lives here so like … he’ll be back eventually. why do you want to see him so bad ? you didn’t even know who he was … “
she’s already walking away by the time the woman has finished talking , waving her thanks and biting down upon her bottom lip. I just need to ask him a couple questions … @chipmunkwrites
the drums , the drums , pounding , pounding , pounding , the drums pounding , endlessly pounding inside his head. one two three four. one two three four. once , he was the cleverest of time lords. destined for great and terrible things. but that rhythm , inescapable even in death , even across a string of broken && rebuilt bodies --------- it makes concentration difficult. one two three four. one two three four. it pushes him to the brink of madness , a world full of shadows and phantom sounds. a world nearly as horrific as the battlefield upon which he finds himself in his rare lucid moments. one two three four. one two three four. and that is why he needs a CAUSE. something to which he can devote every fibre of his substantial intellect , his every waking moment. an escape , within his mind , from the wasteland to which his body is bound.
POWER.
across each regeneration , that is his only clear thought. every star visible through the fire and smoke that fills gallifrey’s sky is his by right , every single soul on the battlefield , dalek and time lord alike , will one day kneel before him. he counts them , inside his head , as dalek lasers miss his dirt - encrusted skin by mere inches. one two three four. one two three four. as he tries && fails to fall asleep each night , before being driven back out onto the battlefield with the coming dawn. one two three four. one two three four.
he is not a prisoner
he is not a prisoner
he is not
he is
THE MASTER.
he has lost much in this war : all but one of the lives he’d been promised , upon graduating from the academy. his ship. his will. his sanity.
and so when he wakes one morning on a soft hotel bed in the heart of london , universes away from the war - torn planet upon which he’d been loomed , he thinks it nothing more than another in a long string of hallucinations , even if it is the first pleasant one he’s encountered. warily , feet reach out to touch the floor. warily , scarred hands reach up to touch his face , his hair. solid. the floor feels cold against the sensitive skin on the bottoms of his feet , and he winces as calloused fingers brush against a deep bruise under his right eye.
impossible.
master. a voice --- soft , familiar --- seeps through his consciousness like blood through a vein , filling every empty crevice. master. that IS what you like to be called , is it not ? pale, chapped lips curl back into a snarl. new , that , but not unexpected. after all , the animal inside has always rested dangerously close to the surface of his consciousness , with only his will , his sanity , to keep it at bay ------ at least , when he chose to do so. what , now , lay between him and that most primal of creatures ? a soft chuckle answers him. taunts him.
RASSILON.
you recognize my voice , then. a good start. you have seen the state of gallifrey , master. it does not have long. you stopped the council , once , from wiping this planet clean && turning it into a new home for the time lord race. now you have a chance to make amends. do exactly as I tell you , master , and you will be the architect of a golden age. the earth will be destroyed. the doctor will die. just as you’ve always wanted.
❛ never have been one for following orders , now , have I ? ❜ he snaps , though the words come out as just a raspy murmur , as rich brown eyes scan the room for an exit.
we are inside your head , master. you won’t escape us.
❛ can’t blame a bloke for trying though , can you ? ❜ he turns the knob , pulls the hotel room door open wide --------- only to find a massive crowd of reporters awaiting him on the other side. eager voices rise in a cacophony of sound that still does not drown out rassilon’s delighted laughter inside the master’s head. at least a dozen microphones are thrust in front of the time lord’s face , and the incessant flashing of cameras nearly blinds him.
❛ MR. SAXON ! MR. SAXON ! ❜ the reporters cry out , battling against each other for the master’s attention. ❛ how are you recovering from the accident ? ❜ ❛ will the shuttle launch still be taking place as scheduled ? ❜ ❛ any words for your shareholders after yesterday’s system failure ? ❜
harold saxon , rassilon purrs inside his head. billionaire ceo && innovator of SAXON INDUSTRIES. the man behind the largest privately - owned space program on the planet. and , in a month’s time , you’re going to debut a bold new shuttle design --------- only , the humans won’t recognize it as a gallifreyan environment charge. the entire population of the planet will be wiped out in seconds , leaving it primed and ready for the time lords to build their new empire. elegant , don’t you think ? and you get to be the one to pull the trigger !
the master , still unsteady on his feet , clutches the door frame to keep his balance.
❛ alright , alright , now ! ❜ a man --- hotel security , from the look of it --- gestures to the ravenous crowd of reporters to move along. ❛ this isn’t a press conference. everyone out ! ❜
the words you’re looking for , master , rassilon’s voice , again , now baring an edge of impatience , are THANK YOU.
