Still a goblin.

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

He's a loser...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#wordless sputtering, is she literally throwing off sparks? Yup, those are literal sparks, they're burning through anything they fall on#*

Why, you little heretic! I should wipe your entire existence off for this!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Can't... great big para-dox...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she hisses, vicious and stifled, and lets out a keening trill towards Rassilon, leaning towards him in such a way as to both cover him from the little infidel's gaze and shield him from the little infidel's talons and fangs#*

My Lord? Please? Please, please, may I be permitted...?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I don't think you're allowed... there was a big inci-dent on Earth...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#louder hissing, she's straight up baring her teeth by that point#*

I was not asking you, you... Blemish!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

You're just mad cause mum is better than Rassy-lon

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#loud, disbelieving scoff#*

No, she isn't! Nobody is better than Lord Rassilon.

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Sick-o-fant

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she has stopped paying any attention to the little infidel, focused completely back on @theblogof-rassilon, ignoring anything else, letting out soft, melodic, plaintive hums towards him, just waiting for directions#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

He's a loser...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#wordless sputtering, is she literally throwing off sparks? Yup, those are literal sparks, they're burning through anything they fall on#*

Why, you little heretic! I should wipe your entire existence off for this!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Can't... great big para-dox...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she hisses, vicious and stifled, and lets out a keening trill towards Rassilon, leaning towards him in such a way as to both cover him from the little infidel's gaze and shield him from the little infidel's talons and fangs#*

My Lord? Please? Please, please, may I be permitted...?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I don't think you're allowed... there was a big inci-dent on Earth...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#louder hissing, she's straight up baring her teeth by that point#*

I was not asking you, you... Blemish!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

You're just mad cause mum is better than Rassy-lon

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#loud, disbelieving scoff#*

No, she isn't! Nobody is better than Lord Rassilon.

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

He's a loser...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#wordless sputtering, is she literally throwing off sparks? Yup, those are literal sparks, they're burning through anything they fall on#*

Why, you little heretic! I should wipe your entire existence off for this!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Can't... great big para-dox...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she hisses, vicious and stifled, and lets out a keening trill towards Rassilon, leaning towards him in such a way as to both cover him from the little infidel's gaze and shield him from the little infidel's talons and fangs#*

My Lord? Please? Please, please, may I be permitted...?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I don't think you're allowed... there was a big inci-dent on Earth...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#louder hissing, she's straight up baring her teeth by that point#*

I was not asking you, you... Blemish!

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

He's a loser...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#wordless sputtering, is she literally throwing off sparks? Yup, those are literal sparks, they're burning through anything they fall on#*

Why, you little heretic! I should wipe your entire existence off for this!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Can't... great big para-dox...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she hisses, vicious and stifled, and lets out a keening trill towards Rassilon, leaning towards him in such a way as to both cover him from the little infidel's gaze and shield him from the little infidel's talons and fangs#*

My Lord? Please? Please, please, may I be permitted...?

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

He's a loser...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#wordless sputtering, is she literally throwing off sparks? Yup, those are literal sparks, they're burning through anything they fall on#*

Why, you little heretic! I should wipe your entire existence off for this!

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I'm not a mistake, I'm a hy-brid!

[eternalgoblinfiend]

Which, if not allowed, is definitely a mistake. Not that you wouldn't be a mistake had you, somehow, been an allowable result of miscegenation, having attacked the Lord Rassilon. How could you even dare to consider such blasphemy?

[theblogof-rassilon]

The Illness of Rassilon has passed once more. Your president is stronger than ever

[little-raptor-hybrid]

I still don't like you

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Who are you talking to?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Rassy-lon

[random-cerulean-academy-student]

Oh…

Should we be worried he’s shown up again?

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Its ok he's just a voice, he can't do anything

[theblogof-rassilon]

I am not just a voice! I was resurrected and once more have corporeal form!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Then why don't you become Presy-dent?

[theblogof-rassilon]

What do you mean? I *am* president

[onebluedalek]

NO, PERSISTENT IS WHAT YOU ARE!

KILL THAT GUY, TINY BIRD CREATURE!

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Ok

*bites Rassilon*

[theblogof-rassilon]

OW! FUCK, YOU LITTLE BASTARD-

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Heh heh, you're a silly little man

[theblogof-rassilon]

Bigger than you! *Still swearing under his breath* Little fucker

[little-raptor-hybrid]

Not deadlier... *cuts his wrist*

[theblogof-rassilon]

YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Holds a hand over his slashed wrist, concentrating to slow the bleeding* @eternalgoblinfiend , take care of this wretched creature

[eternalgoblinfiend]

My Lord!

*#when did she even get there? It almost feels like she'd always been there, somehow, even though she was certainly not present at the start. Focusing on it brings forth a level of nausea, like the facts are being rearranged too swiftly for comprehension by an invisible hand#*

...what kind of wretched, horrid mistake are you, @little-raptor-hybrid?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#her eyes are still blown wide open, entranced by him, eyelids gaping so much they are minutely twitching even now in an impossible attempt to spread more, when he holds the energy from a sunbeam in his palm, forms it into flame, and bathes the threaded needle's point in a fire as much under his control as she is. Another of those bizarre, soundless keens escapes her as the light dancing on his fingers is extinguished with a simple snap, even though it is still burned into her vision - how easy, how right, that the flame is discarded as soon as it fulfils its purpose, having been allowed the privilege to be of use to him. How fitting, if it would turn out to be her fate as well, how envious she is of such faultless, sincere service. Her fingers on his elbow cling weakly at his robes as he hums, pushing the burning point up to her skin, and it takes everything in her not to press closer, to stay still and wait, to be good for him.

And then… Then he touches her mind, to ask her if she's ready for this, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for him, doesn't he know, there is absolutely nothing she isn't ready to go through for him, him, who made her fit into his universe, who didn't flinch away from how wrong and damning she was, who instead cut out and discarded the parts of her that were unsalvageable and made something out of the rest, who still touches her body, her mind, like they are not worse than excrement, who draws her closer and allows her to exist amongst his other possessions, who has yet to send her away, back to the room she occupied before. Her saviour, her redeemer, her Lord.

There is no need to answer him in kind, of course, and neither should she sully his mind with the touch of her reply; everything that she is clearly flutters in eager anticipation, her blood bubbling through her veins as she gazes at him in adoring reverence. The thread pushing through her skin, following the burn of the needle piercing it, feels like a reward, a cooling caress, a balm, the same thread pulled taut like the sweetest benediction, so sweet and overwhelming she can no longer stay completely still, and preens under his touch instinctively, her fingers around his elbow worshipfully rubbing at his robes, her mouth opening up in a tiny O as she very lightly sways closer and closer with each tightening of the thread sewing the hole in her head shut behind her skin, air whistling through her mouth and eyes unable to stray away#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He traces her skin with his little finger as he works, the slow way, the physical thread raking painfully through the holes he forms in her skin. He pushes the cells apart like curtains with his mind; a knife through butter. Sunbeams through a waterfall. It is too easy. Too easy...

No; he shakes it off. It is easy because he is so very good at this, at control; how can he not be? He created this. The universe, this universe, and everything in it. Even her.*

'Lin? Can you hear me?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#it feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world, letting herself exist like this, yielding to anything he wants, ceding all control to him, allowing him to manipulate her cells with his mind; each scratch and scrape of physical thread through the perforations in her skin, holes he wills into being for this exact purpose, rubbing at impossibly sensitive inner nerves forced into direct contact with the outside world just for him, gifting her the privilege of feeling this, each time feeling exactly like the first time, the process lulling her into a sort of meditative state.

He wills a hole through the skin covering the hole in her skull, he exposes her insides, he fills the hole with the thread, he pulls, his little finger tracing the skin throughout, on repeat. Over and over and over and over, steady and relentless and casual, like darning a sock, like signing a document that one has personally drafted.

Easy, natural, effortless, right. Of no consequence to the one doing it, but of the greatest importance for the object being gifted such consideration. She wants to hum her appreciation, her gratitude, her awe at it, she wants to do anything he wants, be anything he would like her to be, but she manages to constrain herself into simply preening at his touch and gazing at him with eyes unnaturally widened, the sclera almost entirely swallowed by her rapidly expanding pupils.

She is holding herself so still, her awareness narrowed down to the slow way he is stitching her closed, she almost forgets she is capable of making sounds when he asks; it takes her entirely too long (thirty seconds of not replying, thirty seconds more of being a horrid disappointment unworthy of his patience) to reply#*

Mmmmmmhm, I c'n hear you, milord.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Such a simple task, and one that could go so easily wrong. Threads are delicate and brittle things, they do tend to-

Ah, but he would never let this one snap. He wove the threads of history together, and now, he weaves another story, a simpler one, or so he tells himself. Yes; a single person cannot be more than a whole universe.

But she could have broken it. Snapped the thread.

Well, not anymore.*

How do you feel, my 'Lin? Now that the operation is complete? Has it fixed you?

*And he pours the same beat into every word: Am I your salvation?*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#there is something in his words this time, an added weight to each and every single one of them; his words are never trivial, always substantial and portentous, but this time every word feels laced with some surreptitious demand, like barbs coyly peeking out of an offered meal, ready to shred one's insides.

She swallows the figurative barbs willingly - she would do the same thing had they been literal barbs, if he wanted her to, if he, for some reason, wanted to fish out her internal organs like that, anything he wants, she's willing, she's eager to give - and allows them to drag words out of her that spill without a filter, bursting like arterial blood spray as she holds herself still against the overwhelming desire to curl closer to him, make herself as small and unobtrusive and tame as she can, and bask in his proximity and attention#*

Feels so good, my Lord. Feels right, finally. It feels like I finally fit, like everything wrong with me has been excised, gouged out, the diseased parts eradicated, the necessary incisions cauterised closed, like everything is closer, brighter, softer, like I'm finally, finally part of this world, safe and manageable and controlled. Feels like I was drowning all my life, and you dragged me out. You have saved me, milord, you have... Made me anew, better than I could have ever been on my own, so much better, that I can one day hope of being worthy of it and the hope does not feel doomed.

Milord, you...

You are my salvation personified. You are... Everything.

*#she has started shaking minutely in the middle of her speech, almost like a part of her was horrified by her openness, would have loved to have stopped but was unable to, and the yellow gold capillaries spiderwebbing through the whites of her eyes are pulsing to the beat of his veiled question by the end of her speech#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Rassilon did not laugh, as he had before; he ties the thread, pulling at the end as he cuts it after the new knot. His fingers. Perfect hands, still hands, not trembling as she did - the way she came apart beneath him made him almost see her as someone else whose wounds he'd tended to after a difficult day in the lab left him injured, long ago. Almost.

Her speech was... Perfect. Exactly what he'd wanted, no, needed to hear. Could she be too perfect? Or was he just that good?

Rassilon, perfection personified... A true God... The answer was clear.*

My greatest success. You are a testament to the truth of my birthright, sweet soldier. Come on. Let's leave this place and finish what I started. Let us show the universe we are not to be crossed. Eliminate those pesky heretics... How would you like that, my Lynchpin?

*He resumed petting her, not fingers trailing along the strands of her hair.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#the way he pulls at the end of the thread stitching her closed while cutting off the excess trailing after the knot he's tied pulls another of those bizarre, soundless keens out of her, eyelids fluttering spasmodically, caught between the instinct to never squander a millisecond of the sight of him before her and the burning need to slip shut so the sensation of his precious, blessed limits on her could sink through all her constrained folds even more quickly. She does manage to strangle that need before it robs her of the way he looks, resolute and stalwart, steady and steadying, perfect and still, firm and firmamental, both anchor and foundation to the world.

His subsequent words of praiseful affirmation and proprietary courteousness slide right inside her heart, easy and more natural than breathing could ever feel, and suffuse her with a warm contentment that tastes of flesh charred under a branding rod and the reassuring weight of shackles helping remind her of her proper place. She lets out an agreeable hum to his question, infinitesimally leaning into the fingers carding through her hair as her own fingers around his elbow rub lightly at his robes, a soft clench and release like a cat kneading#*

I would like that very much, my Lord. To be of use to you, to aid in the completion of your great work, to wipe the stain of the undeserving off this universe that owes its shape to you… What could ever be sweeter?

*#the gold capillaries in the whites of her eyes are definitely pulsing with xanthic light as she answers, words absorbed osmotically from him and molded so that their handles fit the form he ordained for her hands#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*For a moment, he thinks he sees a light in her eyes that surely shouldn't be there. Drunk on the moment, the state of things, he barely registers his own concern. Lost in the idea of himself on an altar-turned-plinth as he revels in his honour, his glory, how far he's come. It's his story now, and this is the next chapter he's writing. It's title is simply "'Lin".*

Rest now, my child; I shall return for you once you are recovered. And then, I have several jobs in mind...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#exhaustion barrels into her as soon as her Lord bids her rest, her physical body, not having allowed tiredness to even exist before given the cue by him, getting overwhelmed by the fatigue of being pinned in place in between one of his heartsbeats and the next. She lets out a surprised, soft mewl as her eyes get suddenly filmy and unfocused, lessening the crispness of his vision before her at the same time as the ocular glow dims to the vaguest, haziest luminescence of foxfire through thick fog.

Suddenly, her head is untenably heavy, her fingers nerveless and stiff and letting his robes slip through as her hands fall down to rest over her thighs. Another shaky, humming mewl escapes out of her as fatigue loosens the muscles of her jaw and turns her corded neck limp enough that her head is kept up just by the way he's keeping his fingers through her hair.

She's much too tired to fight back her need to lean closer to him by that point, too weak to both keep her eyes open a slit and not give into his gravity and nuzzle at his presence, so she can't stop bending towards him, magnetised#*

‘nythin’ for you… M’ Lord…

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#her eyes are still blown wide open, entranced by him, eyelids gaping so much they are minutely twitching even now in an impossible attempt to spread more, when he holds the energy from a sunbeam in his palm, forms it into flame, and bathes the threaded needle's point in a fire as much under his control as she is. Another of those bizarre, soundless keens escapes her as the light dancing on his fingers is extinguished with a simple snap, even though it is still burned into her vision - how easy, how right, that the flame is discarded as soon as it fulfils its purpose, having been allowed the privilege to be of use to him. How fitting, if it would turn out to be her fate as well, how envious she is of such faultless, sincere service. Her fingers on his elbow cling weakly at his robes as he hums, pushing the burning point up to her skin, and it takes everything in her not to press closer, to stay still and wait, to be good for him.

And then… Then he touches her mind, to ask her if she's ready for this, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for him, doesn't he know, there is absolutely nothing she isn't ready to go through for him, him, who made her fit into his universe, who didn't flinch away from how wrong and damning she was, who instead cut out and discarded the parts of her that were unsalvageable and made something out of the rest, who still touches her body, her mind, like they are not worse than excrement, who draws her closer and allows her to exist amongst his other possessions, who has yet to send her away, back to the room she occupied before. Her saviour, her redeemer, her Lord.

There is no need to answer him in kind, of course, and neither should she sully his mind with the touch of her reply; everything that she is clearly flutters in eager anticipation, her blood bubbling through her veins as she gazes at him in adoring reverence. The thread pushing through her skin, following the burn of the needle piercing it, feels like a reward, a cooling caress, a balm, the same thread pulled taut like the sweetest benediction, so sweet and overwhelming she can no longer stay completely still, and preens under his touch instinctively, her fingers around his elbow worshipfully rubbing at his robes, her mouth opening up in a tiny O as she very lightly sways closer and closer with each tightening of the thread sewing the hole in her head shut behind her skin, air whistling through her mouth and eyes unable to stray away#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He traces her skin with his little finger as he works, the slow way, the physical thread raking painfully through the holes he forms in her skin. He pushes the cells apart like curtains with his mind; a knife through butter. Sunbeams through a waterfall. It is too easy. Too easy...

No; he shakes it off. It is easy because he is so very good at this, at control; how can he not be? He created this. The universe, this universe, and everything in it. Even her.*

'Lin? Can you hear me?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#it feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world, letting herself exist like this, yielding to anything he wants, ceding all control to him, allowing him to manipulate her cells with his mind; each scratch and scrape of physical thread through the perforations in her skin, holes he wills into being for this exact purpose, rubbing at impossibly sensitive inner nerves forced into direct contact with the outside world just for him, gifting her the privilege of feeling this, each time feeling exactly like the first time, the process lulling her into a sort of meditative state.

He wills a hole through the skin covering the hole in her skull, he exposes her insides, he fills the hole with the thread, he pulls, his little finger tracing the skin throughout, on repeat. Over and over and over and over, steady and relentless and casual, like darning a sock, like signing a document that one has personally drafted.

Easy, natural, effortless, right. Of no consequence to the one doing it, but of the greatest importance for the object being gifted such consideration. She wants to hum her appreciation, her gratitude, her awe at it, she wants to do anything he wants, be anything he would like her to be, but she manages to constrain herself into simply preening at his touch and gazing at him with eyes unnaturally widened, the sclera almost entirely swallowed by her rapidly expanding pupils.

She is holding herself so still, her awareness narrowed down to the slow way he is stitching her closed, she almost forgets she is capable of making sounds when he asks; it takes her entirely too long (thirty seconds of not replying, thirty seconds more of being a horrid disappointment unworthy of his patience) to reply#*

Mmmmmmhm, I c'n hear you, milord.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Such a simple task, and one that could go so easily wrong. Threads are delicate and brittle things, they do tend to-

Ah, but he would never let this one snap. He wove the threads of history together, and now, he weaves another story, a simpler one, or so he tells himself. Yes; a single person cannot be more than a whole universe.

But she could have broken it. Snapped the thread.

Well, not anymore.*

How do you feel, my 'Lin? Now that the operation is complete? Has it fixed you?

*And he pours the same beat into every word: Am I your salvation?*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#there is something in his words this time, an added weight to each and every single one of them; his words are never trivial, always substantial and portentous, but this time every word feels laced with some surreptitious demand, like barbs coyly peeking out of an offered meal, ready to shred one's insides.

She swallows the figurative barbs willingly - she would do the same thing had they been literal barbs, if he wanted her to, if he, for some reason, wanted to fish out her internal organs like that, anything he wants, she's willing, she's eager to give - and allows them to drag words out of her that spill without a filter, bursting like arterial blood spray as she holds herself still against the overwhelming desire to curl closer to him, make herself as small and unobtrusive and tame as she can, and bask in his proximity and attention#*

Feels so good, my Lord. Feels right, finally. It feels like I finally fit, like everything wrong with me has been excised, gouged out, the diseased parts eradicated, the necessary incisions cauterised closed, like everything is closer, brighter, softer, like I'm finally, finally part of this world, safe and manageable and controlled. Feels like I was drowning all my life, and you dragged me out. You have saved me, milord, you have... Made me anew, better than I could have ever been on my own, so much better, that I can one day hope of being worthy of it and the hope does not feel doomed.

Milord, you...

You are my salvation personified. You are... Everything.

*#she has started shaking minutely in the middle of her speech, almost like a part of her was horrified by her openness, would have loved to have stopped but was unable to, and the yellow gold capillaries spiderwebbing through the whites of her eyes are pulsing to the beat of his veiled question by the end of her speech#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Rassilon did not laugh, as he had before; he ties the thread, pulling at the end as he cuts it after the new knot. His fingers. Perfect hands, still hands, not trembling as she did - the way she came apart beneath him made him almost see her as someone else whose wounds he'd tended to after a difficult day in the lab left him injured, long ago. Almost.

Her speech was... Perfect. Exactly what he'd wanted, no, needed to hear. Could she be too perfect? Or was he just that good?

Rassilon, perfection personified... A true God... The answer was clear.*

My greatest success. You are a testament to the truth of my birthright, sweet soldier. Come on. Let's leave this place and finish what I started. Let us show the universe we are not to be crossed. Eliminate those pesky heretics... How would you like that, my Lynchpin?

*He resumed petting her, not fingers trailing along the strands of her hair.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#the way he pulls at the end of the thread stitching her closed while cutting off the excess trailing after the knot he's tied pulls another of those bizarre, soundless keens out of her, eyelids fluttering spasmodically, caught between the instinct to never squander a millisecond of the sight of him before her and the burning need to slip shut so the sensation of his precious, blessed limits on her could sink through all her constrained folds even more quickly. She does manage to strangle that need before it robs her of the way he looks, resolute and stalwart, steady and steadying, perfect and still, firm and firmamental, both anchor and foundation to the world.

His subsequent words of praiseful affirmation and proprietary courteousness slide right inside her heart, easy and more natural than breathing could ever feel, and suffuse her with a warm contentment that tastes of flesh charred under a branding rod and the reassuring weight of shackles helping remind her of her proper place. She lets out an agreeable hum to his question, infinitesimally leaning into the fingers carding through her hair as her own fingers around his elbow rub lightly at his robes, a soft clench and release like a cat kneading#*

I would like that very much, my Lord. To be of use to you, to aid in the completion of your great work, to wipe the stain of the undeserving off this universe that owes its shape to you… What could ever be sweeter?

*#the gold capillaries in the whites of her eyes are definitely pulsing with xanthic light as she answers, words absorbed osmotically from him and molded so that their handles fit the form he ordained for her hands#*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#her eyes are still blown wide open, entranced by him, eyelids gaping so much they are minutely twitching even now in an impossible attempt to spread more, when he holds the energy from a sunbeam in his palm, forms it into flame, and bathes the threaded needle's point in a fire as much under his control as she is. Another of those bizarre, soundless keens escapes her as the light dancing on his fingers is extinguished with a simple snap, even though it is still burned into her vision - how easy, how right, that the flame is discarded as soon as it fulfils its purpose, having been allowed the privilege to be of use to him. How fitting, if it would turn out to be her fate as well, how envious she is of such faultless, sincere service. Her fingers on his elbow cling weakly at his robes as he hums, pushing the burning point up to her skin, and it takes everything in her not to press closer, to stay still and wait, to be good for him.

And then… Then he touches her mind, to ask her if she's ready for this, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for him, doesn't he know, there is absolutely nothing she isn't ready to go through for him, him, who made her fit into his universe, who didn't flinch away from how wrong and damning she was, who instead cut out and discarded the parts of her that were unsalvageable and made something out of the rest, who still touches her body, her mind, like they are not worse than excrement, who draws her closer and allows her to exist amongst his other possessions, who has yet to send her away, back to the room she occupied before. Her saviour, her redeemer, her Lord.

There is no need to answer him in kind, of course, and neither should she sully his mind with the touch of her reply; everything that she is clearly flutters in eager anticipation, her blood bubbling through her veins as she gazes at him in adoring reverence. The thread pushing through her skin, following the burn of the needle piercing it, feels like a reward, a cooling caress, a balm, the same thread pulled taut like the sweetest benediction, so sweet and overwhelming she can no longer stay completely still, and preens under his touch instinctively, her fingers around his elbow worshipfully rubbing at his robes, her mouth opening up in a tiny O as she very lightly sways closer and closer with each tightening of the thread sewing the hole in her head shut behind her skin, air whistling through her mouth and eyes unable to stray away#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He traces her skin with his little finger as he works, the slow way, the physical thread raking painfully through the holes he forms in her skin. He pushes the cells apart like curtains with his mind; a knife through butter. Sunbeams through a waterfall. It is too easy. Too easy...

No; he shakes it off. It is easy because he is so very good at this, at control; how can he not be? He created this. The universe, this universe, and everything in it. Even her.*

'Lin? Can you hear me?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#it feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world, letting herself exist like this, yielding to anything he wants, ceding all control to him, allowing him to manipulate her cells with his mind; each scratch and scrape of physical thread through the perforations in her skin, holes he wills into being for this exact purpose, rubbing at impossibly sensitive inner nerves forced into direct contact with the outside world just for him, gifting her the privilege of feeling this, each time feeling exactly like the first time, the process lulling her into a sort of meditative state.

He wills a hole through the skin covering the hole in her skull, he exposes her insides, he fills the hole with the thread, he pulls, his little finger tracing the skin throughout, on repeat. Over and over and over and over, steady and relentless and casual, like darning a sock, like signing a document that one has personally drafted.

Easy, natural, effortless, right. Of no consequence to the one doing it, but of the greatest importance for the object being gifted such consideration. She wants to hum her appreciation, her gratitude, her awe at it, she wants to do anything he wants, be anything he would like her to be, but she manages to constrain herself into simply preening at his touch and gazing at him with eyes unnaturally widened, the sclera almost entirely swallowed by her rapidly expanding pupils.

She is holding herself so still, her awareness narrowed down to the slow way he is stitching her closed, she almost forgets she is capable of making sounds when he asks; it takes her entirely too long (thirty seconds of not replying, thirty seconds more of being a horrid disappointment unworthy of his patience) to reply#*

Mmmmmmhm, I c'n hear you, milord.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Such a simple task, and one that could go so easily wrong. Threads are delicate and brittle things, they do tend to-

Ah, but he would never let this one snap. He wove the threads of history together, and now, he weaves another story, a simpler one, or so he tells himself. Yes; a single person cannot be more than a whole universe.

But she could have broken it. Snapped the thread.

Well, not anymore.*

How do you feel, my 'Lin? Now that the operation is complete? Has it fixed you?

*And he pours the same beat into every word: Am I your salvation?*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#there is something in his words this time, an added weight to each and every single one of them; his words are never trivial, always substantial and portentous, but this time every word feels laced with some surreptitious demand, like barbs coyly peeking out of an offered meal, ready to shred one's insides.

She swallows the figurative barbs willingly - she would do the same thing had they been literal barbs, if he wanted her to, if he, for some reason, wanted to fish out her internal organs like that, anything he wants, she's willing, she's eager to give - and allows them to drag words out of her that spill without a filter, bursting like arterial blood spray as she holds herself still against the overwhelming desire to curl closer to him, make herself as small and unobtrusive and tame as she can, and bask in his proximity and attention#*

Feels so good, my Lord. Feels right, finally. It feels like I finally fit, like everything wrong with me has been excised, gouged out, the diseased parts eradicated, the necessary incisions cauterised closed, like everything is closer, brighter, softer, like I'm finally, finally part of this world, safe and manageable and controlled. Feels like I was drowning all my life, and you dragged me out. You have saved me, milord, you have... Made me anew, better than I could have ever been on my own, so much better, that I can one day hope of being worthy of it and the hope does not feel doomed.

Milord, you...

You are my salvation personified. You are... Everything.

*#she has started shaking minutely in the middle of her speech, almost like a part of her was horrified by her openness, would have loved to have stopped but was unable to, and the yellow gold capillaries spiderwebbing through the whites of her eyes are pulsing to the beat of his veiled question by the end of her speech#*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#her eyes are still blown wide open, entranced by him, eyelids gaping so much they are minutely twitching even now in an impossible attempt to spread more, when he holds the energy from a sunbeam in his palm, forms it into flame, and bathes the threaded needle's point in a fire as much under his control as she is. Another of those bizarre, soundless keens escapes her as the light dancing on his fingers is extinguished with a simple snap, even though it is still burned into her vision - how easy, how right, that the flame is discarded as soon as it fulfils its purpose, having been allowed the privilege to be of use to him. How fitting, if it would turn out to be her fate as well, how envious she is of such faultless, sincere service. Her fingers on his elbow cling weakly at his robes as he hums, pushing the burning point up to her skin, and it takes everything in her not to press closer, to stay still and wait, to be good for him.

And then… Then he touches her mind, to ask her if she's ready for this, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for him, doesn't he know, there is absolutely nothing she isn't ready to go through for him, him, who made her fit into his universe, who didn't flinch away from how wrong and damning she was, who instead cut out and discarded the parts of her that were unsalvageable and made something out of the rest, who still touches her body, her mind, like they are not worse than excrement, who draws her closer and allows her to exist amongst his other possessions, who has yet to send her away, back to the room she occupied before. Her saviour, her redeemer, her Lord.

There is no need to answer him in kind, of course, and neither should she sully his mind with the touch of her reply; everything that she is clearly flutters in eager anticipation, her blood bubbling through her veins as she gazes at him in adoring reverence. The thread pushing through her skin, following the burn of the needle piercing it, feels like a reward, a cooling caress, a balm, the same thread pulled taut like the sweetest benediction, so sweet and overwhelming she can no longer stay completely still, and preens under his touch instinctively, her fingers around his elbow worshipfully rubbing at his robes, her mouth opening up in a tiny O as she very lightly sways closer and closer with each tightening of the thread sewing the hole in her head shut behind her skin, air whistling through her mouth and eyes unable to stray away#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He traces her skin with his little finger as he works, the slow way, the physical thread raking painfully through the holes he forms in her skin. He pushes the cells apart like curtains with his mind; a knife through butter. Sunbeams through a waterfall. It is too easy. Too easy...

No; he shakes it off. It is easy because he is so very good at this, at control; how can he not be? He created this. The universe, this universe, and everything in it. Even her.*

'Lin? Can you hear me?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#it feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world, letting herself exist like this, yielding to anything he wants, ceding all control to him, allowing him to manipulate her cells with his mind; each scratch and scrape of physical thread through the perforations in her skin, holes he wills into being for this exact purpose, rubbing at impossibly sensitive inner nerves forced into direct contact with the outside world just for him, gifting her the privilege of feeling this, each time feeling exactly like the first time, the process lulling her into a sort of meditative state.

He wills a hole through the skin covering the hole in her skull, he exposes her insides, he fills the hole with the thread, he pulls, his little finger tracing the skin throughout, on repeat. Over and over and over and over, steady and relentless and casual, like darning a sock, like signing a document that one has personally drafted.

Easy, natural, effortless, right. Of no consequence to the one doing it, but of the greatest importance for the object being gifted such consideration. She wants to hum her appreciation, her gratitude, her awe at it, she wants to do anything he wants, be anything he would like her to be, but she manages to constrain herself into simply preening at his touch and gazing at him with eyes unnaturally widened, the sclera almost entirely swallowed by her rapidly expanding pupils.

She is holding herself so still, her awareness narrowed down to the slow way he is stitching her closed, she almost forgets she is capable of making sounds when he asks; it takes her entirely too long (thirty seconds of not replying, thirty seconds more of being a horrid disappointment unworthy of his patience) to reply#*

Mmmmmmhm, I c'n hear you, milord.

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#her eyes are still blown wide open, entranced by him, eyelids gaping so much they are minutely twitching even now in an impossible attempt to spread more, when he holds the energy from a sunbeam in his palm, forms it into flame, and bathes the threaded needle's point in a fire as much under his control as she is. Another of those bizarre, soundless keens escapes her as the light dancing on his fingers is extinguished with a simple snap, even though it is still burned into her vision - how easy, how right, that the flame is discarded as soon as it fulfils its purpose, having been allowed the privilege to be of use to him. How fitting, if it would turn out to be her fate as well, how envious she is of such faultless, sincere service. Her fingers on his elbow cling weakly at his robes as he hums, pushing the burning point up to her skin, and it takes everything in her not to press closer, to stay still and wait, to be good for him.

And then… Then he touches her mind, to ask her if she's ready for this, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for him, doesn't he know, there is absolutely nothing she isn't ready to go through for him, him, who made her fit into his universe, who didn't flinch away from how wrong and damning she was, who instead cut out and discarded the parts of her that were unsalvageable and made something out of the rest, who still touches her body, her mind, like they are not worse than excrement, who draws her closer and allows her to exist amongst his other possessions, who has yet to send her away, back to the room she occupied before. Her saviour, her redeemer, her Lord.

There is no need to answer him in kind, of course, and neither should she sully his mind with the touch of her reply; everything that she is clearly flutters in eager anticipation, her blood bubbling through her veins as she gazes at him in adoring reverence. The thread pushing through her skin, following the burn of the needle piercing it, feels like a reward, a cooling caress, a balm, the same thread pulled taut like the sweetest benediction, so sweet and overwhelming she can no longer stay completely still, and preens under his touch instinctively, her fingers around his elbow worshipfully rubbing at his robes, her mouth opening up in a tiny O as she very lightly sways closer and closer with each tightening of the thread sewing the hole in her head shut behind her skin, air whistling through her mouth and eyes unable to stray away#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

@eternalgoblinfiend my darling Lynchpin must have all the knowledge needed to do a good job... What would you say to some Gallifreyan history lessons? I can teach you the truth about the universe...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

...I would be honoured, my Lord. There is so much to know, so much that has been distorted or obfuscated, it appears. Being given the opportunity to correct any misconceptions I might harbour would only aid me in enacting your will.

...And I would trust none but you to teach me the truth of the universe.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He breathes in the air, savouring the moment. Never did he imagine the process to work so completely... To have someone so utterly dependent upon him and his li- his *truth*. Or, his favourite version, anyway.*

Well, my dear pupil... *He sits beside her, delighting as she freezes* where shall we begin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she instantly freezes completely when he sits beside her, her formerly deep and steady breaths shifting to shallow, soundless inhales and exhales that are invisible and imperceptible, everything that's left of her scrabbling to remain unobjectionable and right for him, a useful and unobtrusive tool.

She carefully turns her face towards him, her eyes demurely lowered at a point on his right shoulder#*

I do not know, my Lord. What would the best place to begin be, according to your wisdom? What do I require most desperately to be aware of, to act accordingly to your will?

[theblogof-rassilon]

Hmm... *He sits still and stares off into the distance for a moment, as if in thought, when in reality he has planned this, every moment. His eyes are still sharp, and he's watching Lin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her trembling breaths. She'll hang on to his every word...

Exactly as it should be.*

We should start at the beginning. *His voice is thunderous as he snaps back to reality.* We should start with the truth! With how I, Rassilon, commanded the true nature of the universe to show itself, chipping away at the deceit and disorder until I unearthed the one true timeline, and the true laws... Would you like that, my Lynchpin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she attempts to regulate her rapid breathing whilst he appears lost in thought, not wanting to distract him or disturb his obviously elevated mental pursuits, and is moderately successful until his thunderous voice cracks open the silence like a talon piercing an egg from the inside. An almost soundless whine escapes her at this, surprised at the abruptness and dismayed at having failed to expect it, a couple of stray tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, brought forth by her perceived defect.

She blinks them resolutely away, focusing entirely on his words, treating each and every single one like a priceless gift#*

...my Lord, I would like nothing more. To be offered such a privilege as to hear the truth of the universe , its laws and its nature from you, who revealed it...

There are no words to describe how much I would like that.

*#she unconsciously, infinitesimally leans closer to him, a sunflower to the sun, quite out of her own control and unaware of her shift#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He smiles greedily, allowing her to lean into him just slightly, then wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in when he gets impatient. He threads his fingers through her hair; once, twice. Now he can begin*

Once upon a no-time, the universe was a disordered jumble of chaos and confusion. No version of events lined up with any other; there was no cause and effect, no rationality. It was a terrible time. It was the time which I was born into, and the time which I would grow to end.

*He makes sure Lin is still listening; he needn't have bothered. She'd never be able to turn away.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#a subvocal, keening hum breaks free from her when he swiftly pulls her in to his side, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings as he threads his fingers through her hair; any hint of vigor melts off her, and she grows completely pliant and pliable in his grasp, wanting so much to nestle closer to his presence but staying passive and good for him, a vessel to fill with his words and his truth and anything else he deigns to pour into her.

His words and descriptions resonate with something folded very far inside her, his obvious contempt for how things had been swirling through her and seeping in, tinting this past of no-time in horror and fear. She sluggishly turns her entire head more obviously towards him, the movement almost a nuzzle#*

It must have been a treacherous, lonely time, my Lord. The universe is fortunate you saw fit to end it.

*#she is hanging onto his every word, willingly. There's nothing within her that would even consider turning away, not even briefly, not even as a terrible nightmare scenario; turn away from him, him who has helped her so much, him who has turned her safe and docile and right, for once in her cursed life? Never! What could be able to force her into such a thing?#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Rassilon smiles absent-mindedly, hand coming to rest on top of her head. His fingers dip down further than they should - he startles, realising that the hole from the lobotomy hasn't closed. It doesn't seem to be causing her any pain, however, so he pushes aside his gut disgust over how unhygienic this was, and let his fingers dangle in through the hole in her head.*

Can you feel that? *He wonders softly, but quickly clears his throat and resumes his lecture*

It was. Thankfully, I had... Someone to help me through it. Other like-minded souls... Though, none with the passion, the vision necessary to carry through and achieve what I did. It took a lot of work, but I eventually made it to the top, in my rightful place, commander of Gallifrey. Of her scientific pursuits, her knowledge... And I saw I could do more. For, tragically, my regime taking control was spurned by the old ruler, who cursed the land to infertility. Desperate to help my people, to continue our society, I devised a way to bear children, outside the womb. To weave them from the fabric of spacetime itself... Crochet them from scraps into a whole being. My new race. My Time Lords.

Only a true Lord of Time may inherit my secrets, you understand - all that I built, all the wondrous technology and advancements that were made as a result of our misfortune, they pushed us into something greater. No longer were we merely things of three dimensions; we graduated with control over time itself! But still, our control was not complete. Not until the day that I undertook a task that would change the universe forever...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#as soon as his fingers dip into the kerf on top of her head, easily unraveling the stitching he'd himself put there to close up the divet after he was done with rearranging her brain to his liking, she loses all laxness and freezes up, eyes widening as his fingers press into the opening and practically tease at the outside of her brain. It feels like a caress, it feels like the tickling of a feather, like a gentle breath on the surface of her mind; her pupils expand until there's only a tiny halo of grey encircling shining black, riveted on him, the centre of everything#*

It feels perfect, my Lord...

*#she listens to him talk about all he accomplished, with minimal support from the ones around him, about how the former, inferior ruler had cursed everyone out of spite and how he'd managed to find a way to overcome this curse, indelibly changing the nature of his people in the process. There is a brief spike of hopeless, vicious grief mixed with envy over his words about only a true Lord of Time being a worthy inheritor of his secrets — it's not like she's unaware of how damningly lesser, how glaringly insufficient she is compared to him, and it's not like she believes she could ever help shoulder such a responsibility, but she still craves helping him in any way she can, like he helped her, a foolish wish she hasn't managed to drown out yet — and then she fights the way she's frozen to the spot, pulled into his orbit and nestled by his side, managing to carefully raise a limp, weak hand to ghost over the elbow of the arm he's currently resting on her head. She wants so much to indicate she's listening to everything he's telling her, appreciating it and taking it in, and she simultaneously doesn't want to interrupt him or dare to speak over him, even by accident, so she settles for letting out a soft, encouraging hum to prompt him to keep talking, her fingers gently curling at his elbow like waves lapping at the shore#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He can feel her rapid emotions firing under her skin, the electrical impulses in her brain going haywire as he encourages her adoration.

He wonders if that would change, her eyes filling with revulsion if she learned what he did. Despite everything he's done since, the wars, the genocide, the backstabbing and dictatorship and bans and erasures, he still views it as his original sin. The first step on his path to power and victory.*

It has to be done, what I did that day. I made a choice no man should have to make - his people, or his lover. I did what was best for Gallifrey - for the whole universe! And were they grateful? No, they locked me away! Forced me back! Traitorous dogs.

*He can't help the anger bursting out, his hand curling around the edge of 'Lin's head wound. If she flinches, he doesn't notice, caught up in the memories of him and Omega, a scientific journey that allowed the birth of the greatest civilisation known to the universe... And at such a cost. It must have been worth it.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she really, really can't stifle the silent tears escaping her at his words, feeling a want so scorching it could easily be mistaken for need at the thrum of pain in his voice, a want to draw closer and soothe him as much as she can, to shower him in gratefulness, as if that would make up for even a fraction for his people's treason. She tries to surge even closer to him, practically bumping her forehead on the grip of his hand, uncaring about the way the skin flaps over the hole in her skull flutter at his palm like a butterfly proboscis nosing for pollen. She releases stifled, tiny keening whines, attempting to placate his anger, or at least, if she can't mitigate it, redirect it instead. Her fingers curled at his elbow twitch, gently trying to tug him closer.

His fury burns through her like a flash fire, leaving her feeling even weaker than before, woozy and unsteady even though he's got her securely pinned at his side, safe and still and kept perfectly restrained - finally, finally safe and right, finally useful, her mind flat and frozen solid like a lake during a thousand years of an ice age, all sleek like a mirror and empty like fresh, unused bandages, unable to unfold without his blessing - his hand curled around the edges of the opening to the inside of her head feeling like both a reassurance and a brand, a crown and a cage, a protection, a lid and a martingale.

She tries to curl even closer, admiration for his actions and grief for what he'd sacrificed and righteous ire over how he was treated after it weaving through her and almost choking her words#*

My Lord... Oh, my Lord, how could they have been so ungrateful? How could they not realise how blessed they are, to have your guidance? You, who selflessly gave up on your personal happiness so they could flourish?

*#she hasn't stopped crying throughout, she can't stop, the tears licking down her cheeks and pooling at the hollow of her throat#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Salt fills the air as he basks in her attention, her pity a balm on his... No, not pity. Adoration. Worship. Her belief was so strong it was as though she were emitting sunbeams, and he was absorbing the light. For too long, he has been denied the right to the godhood he earned the day he elevated his people; she saw the truth, his disciple, his truest follower.

Together, they would smite the non-believers; but first, there was something he must do. A benevolent god rewards his loyal subjects, shows care towards them... Heals them. The miracle of a true deity. Slowly, he crooked the finger that sat just inside her wound, not noticing if she shivered or flinched in response. Delicately, he reaches his other hand and wipes the tears from her eyes. Such a disgustingly mortal affliction, tears. He'll have to train it out of her.*

Oh, but my most devoted child, I am flourishing now. I am happy, for my Lynchpin knows the truth, and will obey my will. All of that is in the past; I am a Lord of Time, the first one, and I can tell of the future. The future will be happy, for my obedient Lynchpin will help me save the universe from itself, put back on track those misguided souls who do not believe in the truth... You shall help me build a new divine cosmos, my 'Lin.

Come now. Let your Lord heal you. *He retrieves some thread and a needle.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#as soon as she feels his finger hook to the inside of her skull, crooking on the edge of the circle of missing periosteum on her frontal bone and pushing the skin flaps covering the hole inside the endocranium, the edges of the skin scraping over her brain, a bizarre whine is jolted loose out of her, inaudible as sound but perceptible as a rippling thrum in the atmosphere. Her eyelids, previously drooping over wet, tearful eyes, slam open, showcasing the whites around her irises - spiderwebbed with hair-thin, yellow gold, glowing arteries breaking up the whiteness of her scleras - and the voids of her pupils - now practically having eclipsed her irises. The fingers she's curled gently on his elbow twitch minutely when his other hand makes contact with the skin under her bottom lids, delicately wiping off her tears; very few tears leak down after, her eyes too open for her tear ducts to work like this.

Every word he deigns to share with her swirls around and around her mind, flensing out any sort of possibility that even lightly contradicts his Word and eviscerating it, while his terms of ownership and claim - "my most devoted child", "my Lynchpin", "my obedient Lynchpin", "my 'Lin", each one a hook straight through her core, bait she willingly swallows - blanket her in dizzying certainty, so that she's a limp, dazed specimen being dipped in the burning amber of his convictions, ready for them to harden over her like armour she'd be a wretched fool to try to get out of.

She can do nothing more than attempt to curl even closer than she is, gently nuzzling at his hands and still letting out intermittent soundless keens that ripple around the room, eyes beholding him with overflowing fealty.#*

Yes. As my Lord wishes.

[theblogof-rassilon]

@eternalgoblinfiend my darling Lynchpin must have all the knowledge needed to do a good job... What would you say to some Gallifreyan history lessons? I can teach you the truth about the universe...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

...I would be honoured, my Lord. There is so much to know, so much that has been distorted or obfuscated, it appears. Being given the opportunity to correct any misconceptions I might harbour would only aid me in enacting your will.

...And I would trust none but you to teach me the truth of the universe.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He breathes in the air, savouring the moment. Never did he imagine the process to work so completely... To have someone so utterly dependent upon him and his li- his *truth*. Or, his favourite version, anyway.*

Well, my dear pupil... *He sits beside her, delighting as she freezes* where shall we begin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she instantly freezes completely when he sits beside her, her formerly deep and steady breaths shifting to shallow, soundless inhales and exhales that are invisible and imperceptible, everything that's left of her scrabbling to remain unobjectionable and right for him, a useful and unobtrusive tool.

She carefully turns her face towards him, her eyes demurely lowered at a point on his right shoulder#*

I do not know, my Lord. What would the best place to begin be, according to your wisdom? What do I require most desperately to be aware of, to act accordingly to your will?

[theblogof-rassilon]

Hmm... *He sits still and stares off into the distance for a moment, as if in thought, when in reality he has planned this, every moment. His eyes are still sharp, and he's watching Lin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her trembling breaths. She'll hang on to his every word...

Exactly as it should be.*

We should start at the beginning. *His voice is thunderous as he snaps back to reality.* We should start with the truth! With how I, Rassilon, commanded the true nature of the universe to show itself, chipping away at the deceit and disorder until I unearthed the one true timeline, and the true laws... Would you like that, my Lynchpin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she attempts to regulate her rapid breathing whilst he appears lost in thought, not wanting to distract him or disturb his obviously elevated mental pursuits, and is moderately successful until his thunderous voice cracks open the silence like a talon piercing an egg from the inside. An almost soundless whine escapes her at this, surprised at the abruptness and dismayed at having failed to expect it, a couple of stray tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, brought forth by her perceived defect.

She blinks them resolutely away, focusing entirely on his words, treating each and every single one like a priceless gift#*

...my Lord, I would like nothing more. To be offered such a privilege as to hear the truth of the universe , its laws and its nature from you, who revealed it...

There are no words to describe how much I would like that.

*#she unconsciously, infinitesimally leans closer to him, a sunflower to the sun, quite out of her own control and unaware of her shift#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He smiles greedily, allowing her to lean into him just slightly, then wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in when he gets impatient. He threads his fingers through her hair; once, twice. Now he can begin*

Once upon a no-time, the universe was a disordered jumble of chaos and confusion. No version of events lined up with any other; there was no cause and effect, no rationality. It was a terrible time. It was the time which I was born into, and the time which I would grow to end.

*He makes sure Lin is still listening; he needn't have bothered. She'd never be able to turn away.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#a subvocal, keening hum breaks free from her when he swiftly pulls her in to his side, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings as he threads his fingers through her hair; any hint of vigor melts off her, and she grows completely pliant and pliable in his grasp, wanting so much to nestle closer to his presence but staying passive and good for him, a vessel to fill with his words and his truth and anything else he deigns to pour into her.

His words and descriptions resonate with something folded very far inside her, his obvious contempt for how things had been swirling through her and seeping in, tinting this past of no-time in horror and fear. She sluggishly turns her entire head more obviously towards him, the movement almost a nuzzle#*

It must have been a treacherous, lonely time, my Lord. The universe is fortunate you saw fit to end it.

*#she is hanging onto his every word, willingly. There's nothing within her that would even consider turning away, not even briefly, not even as a terrible nightmare scenario; turn away from him, him who has helped her so much, him who has turned her safe and docile and right, for once in her cursed life? Never! What could be able to force her into such a thing?#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Rassilon smiles absent-mindedly, hand coming to rest on top of her head. His fingers dip down further than they should - he startles, realising that the hole from the lobotomy hasn't closed. It doesn't seem to be causing her any pain, however, so he pushes aside his gut disgust over how unhygienic this was, and let his fingers dangle in through the hole in her head.*

Can you feel that? *He wonders softly, but quickly clears his throat and resumes his lecture*

It was. Thankfully, I had... Someone to help me through it. Other like-minded souls... Though, none with the passion, the vision necessary to carry through and achieve what I did. It took a lot of work, but I eventually made it to the top, in my rightful place, commander of Gallifrey. Of her scientific pursuits, her knowledge... And I saw I could do more. For, tragically, my regime taking control was spurned by the old ruler, who cursed the land to infertility. Desperate to help my people, to continue our society, I devised a way to bear children, outside the womb. To weave them from the fabric of spacetime itself... Crochet them from scraps into a whole being. My new race. My Time Lords.

Only a true Lord of Time may inherit my secrets, you understand - all that I built, all the wondrous technology and advancements that were made as a result of our misfortune, they pushed us into something greater. No longer were we merely things of three dimensions; we graduated with control over time itself! But still, our control was not complete. Not until the day that I undertook a task that would change the universe forever...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#as soon as his fingers dip into the kerf on top of her head, easily unraveling the stitching he'd himself put there to close up the divet after he was done with rearranging her brain to his liking, she loses all laxness and freezes up, eyes widening as his fingers press into the opening and practically tease at the outside of her brain. It feels like a caress, it feels like the tickling of a feather, like a gentle breath on the surface of her mind; her pupils expand until there's only a tiny halo of grey encircling shining black, riveted on him, the centre of everything#*

It feels perfect, my Lord...

*#she listens to him talk about all he accomplished, with minimal support from the ones around him, about how the former, inferior ruler had cursed everyone out of spite and how he'd managed to find a way to overcome this curse, indelibly changing the nature of his people in the process. There is a brief spike of hopeless, vicious grief mixed with envy over his words about only a true Lord of Time being a worthy inheritor of his secrets — it's not like she's unaware of how damningly lesser, how glaringly insufficient she is compared to him, and it's not like she believes she could ever help shoulder such a responsibility, but she still craves helping him in any way she can, like he helped her, a foolish wish she hasn't managed to drown out yet — and then she fights the way she's frozen to the spot, pulled into his orbit and nestled by his side, managing to carefully raise a limp, weak hand to ghost over the elbow of the arm he's currently resting on her head. She wants so much to indicate she's listening to everything he's telling her, appreciating it and taking it in, and she simultaneously doesn't want to interrupt him or dare to speak over him, even by accident, so she settles for letting out a soft, encouraging hum to prompt him to keep talking, her fingers gently curling at his elbow like waves lapping at the shore#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He can feel her rapid emotions firing under her skin, the electrical impulses in her brain going haywire as he encourages her adoration.

He wonders if that would change, her eyes filling with revulsion if she learned what he did. Despite everything he's done since, the wars, the genocide, the backstabbing and dictatorship and bans and erasures, he still views it as his original sin. The first step on his path to power and victory.*

It has to be done, what I did that day. I made a choice no man should have to make - his people, or his lover. I did what was best for Gallifrey - for the whole universe! And were they grateful? No, they locked me away! Forced me back! Traitorous dogs.

*He can't help the anger bursting out, his hand curling around the edge of 'Lin's head wound. If she flinches, he doesn't notice, caught up in the memories of him and Omega, a scientific journey that allowed the birth of the greatest civilisation known to the universe... And at such a cost. It must have been worth it.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she really, really can't stifle the silent tears escaping her at his words, feeling a want so scorching it could easily be mistaken for need at the thrum of pain in his voice, a want to draw closer and soothe him as much as she can, to shower him in gratefulness, as if that would make up for even a fraction for his people's treason. She tries to surge even closer to him, practically bumping her forehead on the grip of his hand, uncaring about the way the skin flaps over the hole in her skull flutter at his palm like a butterfly proboscis nosing for pollen. She releases stifled, tiny keening whines, attempting to placate his anger, or at least, if she can't mitigate it, redirect it instead. Her fingers curled at his elbow twitch, gently trying to tug him closer.

His fury burns through her like a flash fire, leaving her feeling even weaker than before, woozy and unsteady even though he's got her securely pinned at his side, safe and still and kept perfectly restrained - finally, finally safe and right, finally useful, her mind flat and frozen solid like a lake during a thousand years of an ice age, all sleek like a mirror and empty like fresh, unused bandages, unable to unfold without his blessing - his hand curled around the edges of the opening to the inside of her head feeling like both a reassurance and a brand, a crown and a cage, a protection, a lid and a martingale.

She tries to curl even closer, admiration for his actions and grief for what he'd sacrificed and righteous ire over how he was treated after it weaving through her and almost choking her words#*

My Lord... Oh, my Lord, how could they have been so ungrateful? How could they not realise how blessed they are, to have your guidance? You, who selflessly gave up on your personal happiness so they could flourish?

*#she hasn't stopped crying throughout, she can't stop, the tears licking down her cheeks and pooling at the hollow of her throat#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

@eternalgoblinfiend my darling Lynchpin must have all the knowledge needed to do a good job... What would you say to some Gallifreyan history lessons? I can teach you the truth about the universe...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

...I would be honoured, my Lord. There is so much to know, so much that has been distorted or obfuscated, it appears. Being given the opportunity to correct any misconceptions I might harbour would only aid me in enacting your will.

...And I would trust none but you to teach me the truth of the universe.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He breathes in the air, savouring the moment. Never did he imagine the process to work so completely... To have someone so utterly dependent upon him and his li- his *truth*. Or, his favourite version, anyway.*

Well, my dear pupil... *He sits beside her, delighting as she freezes* where shall we begin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she instantly freezes completely when he sits beside her, her formerly deep and steady breaths shifting to shallow, soundless inhales and exhales that are invisible and imperceptible, everything that's left of her scrabbling to remain unobjectionable and right for him, a useful and unobtrusive tool.

She carefully turns her face towards him, her eyes demurely lowered at a point on his right shoulder#*

I do not know, my Lord. What would the best place to begin be, according to your wisdom? What do I require most desperately to be aware of, to act accordingly to your will?

[theblogof-rassilon]

Hmm... *He sits still and stares off into the distance for a moment, as if in thought, when in reality he has planned this, every moment. His eyes are still sharp, and he's watching Lin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her trembling breaths. She'll hang on to his every word...

Exactly as it should be.*

We should start at the beginning. *His voice is thunderous as he snaps back to reality.* We should start with the truth! With how I, Rassilon, commanded the true nature of the universe to show itself, chipping away at the deceit and disorder until I unearthed the one true timeline, and the true laws... Would you like that, my Lynchpin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she attempts to regulate her rapid breathing whilst he appears lost in thought, not wanting to distract him or disturb his obviously elevated mental pursuits, and is moderately successful until his thunderous voice cracks open the silence like a talon piercing an egg from the inside. An almost soundless whine escapes her at this, surprised at the abruptness and dismayed at having failed to expect it, a couple of stray tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, brought forth by her perceived defect.

She blinks them resolutely away, focusing entirely on his words, treating each and every single one like a priceless gift#*

...my Lord, I would like nothing more. To be offered such a privilege as to hear the truth of the universe , its laws and its nature from you, who revealed it...

There are no words to describe how much I would like that.

*#she unconsciously, infinitesimally leans closer to him, a sunflower to the sun, quite out of her own control and unaware of her shift#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He smiles greedily, allowing her to lean into him just slightly, then wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in when he gets impatient. He threads his fingers through her hair; once, twice. Now he can begin*

Once upon a no-time, the universe was a disordered jumble of chaos and confusion. No version of events lined up with any other; there was no cause and effect, no rationality. It was a terrible time. It was the time which I was born into, and the time which I would grow to end.

*He makes sure Lin is still listening; he needn't have bothered. She'd never be able to turn away.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#a subvocal, keening hum breaks free from her when he swiftly pulls her in to his side, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings as he threads his fingers through her hair; any hint of vigor melts off her, and she grows completely pliant and pliable in his grasp, wanting so much to nestle closer to his presence but staying passive and good for him, a vessel to fill with his words and his truth and anything else he deigns to pour into her.

His words and descriptions resonate with something folded very far inside her, his obvious contempt for how things had been swirling through her and seeping in, tinting this past of no-time in horror and fear. She sluggishly turns her entire head more obviously towards him, the movement almost a nuzzle#*

It must have been a treacherous, lonely time, my Lord. The universe is fortunate you saw fit to end it.

*#she is hanging onto his every word, willingly. There's nothing within her that would even consider turning away, not even briefly, not even as a terrible nightmare scenario; turn away from him, him who has helped her so much, him who has turned her safe and docile and right, for once in her cursed life? Never! What could be able to force her into such a thing?#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*Rassilon smiles absent-mindedly, hand coming to rest on top of her head. His fingers dip down further than they should - he startles, realising that the hole from the lobotomy hasn't closed. It doesn't seem to be causing her any pain, however, so he pushes aside his gut disgust over how unhygienic this was, and let his fingers dangle in through the hole in her head.*

Can you feel that? *He wonders softly, but quickly clears his throat and resumes his lecture*

It was. Thankfully, I had... Someone to help me through it. Other like-minded souls... Though, none with the passion, the vision necessary to carry through and achieve what I did. It took a lot of work, but I eventually made it to the top, in my rightful place, commander of Gallifrey. Of her scientific pursuits, her knowledge... And I saw I could do more. For, tragically, my regime taking control was spurned by the old ruler, who cursed the land to infertility. Desperate to help my people, to continue our society, I devised a way to bear children, outside the womb. To weave them from the fabric of spacetime itself... Crochet them from scraps into a whole being. My new race. My Time Lords.

Only a true Lord of Time may inherit my secrets, you understand - all that I built, all the wondrous technology and advancements that were made as a result of our misfortune, they pushed us into something greater. No longer were we merely things of three dimensions; we graduated with control over time itself! But still, our control was not complete. Not until the day that I undertook a task that would change the universe forever...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#as soon as his fingers dip into the kerf on top of her head, easily unraveling the stitching he'd himself put there to close up the divet after he was done with rearranging her brain to his liking, she loses all laxness and freezes up, eyes widening as his fingers press into the opening and practically tease at the outside of her brain. It feels like a caress, it feels like the tickling of a feather, like a gentle breath on the surface of her mind; her pupils expand until there's only a tiny halo of grey encircling shining black, riveted on him, the centre of everything#*

It feels perfect, my Lord...

*#she listens to him talk about all he accomplished, with minimal support from the ones around him, about how the former, inferior ruler had cursed everyone out of spite and how he'd managed to find a way to overcome this curse, indelibly changing the nature of his people in the process. There is a brief spike of hopeless, vicious grief mixed with envy over his words about only a true Lord of Time being a worthy inheritor of his secrets — it's not like she's unaware of how damningly lesser, how glaringly insufficient she is compared to him, and it's not like she believes she could ever help shoulder such a responsibility, but she still craves helping him in any way she can, like he helped her, a foolish wish she hasn't managed to drown out yet — and then she fights the way she's frozen to the spot, pulled into his orbit and nestled by his side, managing to carefully raise a limp, weak hand to ghost over the elbow of the arm he's currently resting on her head. She wants so much to indicate she's listening to everything he's telling her, appreciating it and taking it in, and she simultaneously doesn't want to interrupt him or dare to speak over him, even by accident, so she settles for letting out a soft, encouraging hum to prompt him to keep talking, her fingers gently curling at his elbow like waves lapping at the shore#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

@eternalgoblinfiend my darling Lynchpin must have all the knowledge needed to do a good job... What would you say to some Gallifreyan history lessons? I can teach you the truth about the universe...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

...I would be honoured, my Lord. There is so much to know, so much that has been distorted or obfuscated, it appears. Being given the opportunity to correct any misconceptions I might harbour would only aid me in enacting your will.

...And I would trust none but you to teach me the truth of the universe.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He breathes in the air, savouring the moment. Never did he imagine the process to work so completely... To have someone so utterly dependent upon him and his li- his *truth*. Or, his favourite version, anyway.*

Well, my dear pupil... *He sits beside her, delighting as she freezes* where shall we begin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she instantly freezes completely when he sits beside her, her formerly deep and steady breaths shifting to shallow, soundless inhales and exhales that are invisible and imperceptible, everything that's left of her scrabbling to remain unobjectionable and right for him, a useful and unobtrusive tool.

She carefully turns her face towards him, her eyes demurely lowered at a point on his right shoulder#*

I do not know, my Lord. What would the best place to begin be, according to your wisdom? What do I require most desperately to be aware of, to act accordingly to your will?

[theblogof-rassilon]

Hmm... *He sits still and stares off into the distance for a moment, as if in thought, when in reality he has planned this, every moment. His eyes are still sharp, and he's watching Lin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her trembling breaths. She'll hang on to his every word...

Exactly as it should be.*

We should start at the beginning. *His voice is thunderous as he snaps back to reality.* We should start with the truth! With how I, Rassilon, commanded the true nature of the universe to show itself, chipping away at the deceit and disorder until I unearthed the one true timeline, and the true laws... Would you like that, my Lynchpin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she attempts to regulate her rapid breathing whilst he appears lost in thought, not wanting to distract him or disturb his obviously elevated mental pursuits, and is moderately successful until his thunderous voice cracks open the silence like a talon piercing an egg from the inside. An almost soundless whine escapes her at this, surprised at the abruptness and dismayed at having failed to expect it, a couple of stray tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, brought forth by her perceived defect.

She blinks them resolutely away, focusing entirely on his words, treating each and every single one like a priceless gift#*

...my Lord, I would like nothing more. To be offered such a privilege as to hear the truth of the universe , its laws and its nature from you, who revealed it...

There are no words to describe how much I would like that.

*#she unconsciously, infinitesimally leans closer to him, a sunflower to the sun, quite out of her own control and unaware of her shift#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He smiles greedily, allowing her to lean into him just slightly, then wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in when he gets impatient. He threads his fingers through her hair; once, twice. Now he can begin*

Once upon a no-time, the universe was a disordered jumble of chaos and confusion. No version of events lined up with any other; there was no cause and effect, no rationality. It was a terrible time. It was the time which I was born into, and the time which I would grow to end.

*He makes sure Lin is still listening; he needn't have bothered. She'd never be able to turn away.*

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#a subvocal, keening hum breaks free from her when he swiftly pulls her in to his side, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings as he threads his fingers through her hair; any hint of vigor melts off her, and she grows completely pliant and pliable in his grasp, wanting so much to nestle closer to his presence but staying passive and good for him, a vessel to fill with his words and his truth and anything else he deigns to pour into her.

His words and descriptions resonate with something folded very far inside her, his obvious contempt for how things had been swirling through her and seeping in, tinting this past of no-time in horror and fear. She sluggishly turns her entire head more obviously towards him, the movement almost a nuzzle#*

It must have been a treacherous, lonely time, my Lord. The universe is fortunate you saw fit to end it.

*#she is hanging onto his every word, willingly. There's nothing within her that would even consider turning away, not even briefly, not even as a terrible nightmare scenario; turn away from him, him who has helped her so much, him who has turned her safe and docile and right, for once in her cursed life? Never! What could be able to force her into such a thing?#*

[theblogof-rassilon]

@eternalgoblinfiend my darling Lynchpin must have all the knowledge needed to do a good job... What would you say to some Gallifreyan history lessons? I can teach you the truth about the universe...

[eternalgoblinfiend]

...I would be honoured, my Lord. There is so much to know, so much that has been distorted or obfuscated, it appears. Being given the opportunity to correct any misconceptions I might harbour would only aid me in enacting your will.

...And I would trust none but you to teach me the truth of the universe.

[theblogof-rassilon]

*He breathes in the air, savouring the moment. Never did he imagine the process to work so completely... To have someone so utterly dependent upon him and his li- his *truth*. Or, his favourite version, anyway.*

Well, my dear pupil... *He sits beside her, delighting as she freezes* where shall we begin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she instantly freezes completely when he sits beside her, her formerly deep and steady breaths shifting to shallow, soundless inhales and exhales that are invisible and imperceptible, everything that's left of her scrabbling to remain unobjectionable and right for him, a useful and unobtrusive tool.

She carefully turns her face towards him, her eyes demurely lowered at a point on his right shoulder#*

I do not know, my Lord. What would the best place to begin be, according to your wisdom? What do I require most desperately to be aware of, to act accordingly to your will?

[theblogof-rassilon]

Hmm... *He sits still and stares off into the distance for a moment, as if in thought, when in reality he has planned this, every moment. His eyes are still sharp, and he's watching Lin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her trembling breaths. She'll hang on to his every word...

Exactly as it should be.*

We should start at the beginning. *His voice is thunderous as he snaps back to reality.* We should start with the truth! With how I, Rassilon, commanded the true nature of the universe to show itself, chipping away at the deceit and disorder until I unearthed the one true timeline, and the true laws... Would you like that, my Lynchpin?

[eternalgoblinfiend]

*#she attempts to regulate her rapid breathing whilst he appears lost in thought, not wanting to distract him or disturb his obviously elevated mental pursuits, and is moderately successful until his thunderous voice cracks open the silence like a talon piercing an egg from the inside. An almost soundless whine escapes her at this, surprised at the abruptness and dismayed at having failed to expect it, a couple of stray tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, brought forth by her perceived defect.

She blinks them resolutely away, focusing entirely on his words, treating each and every single one like a priceless gift#*

...my Lord, I would like nothing more. To be offered such a privilege as to hear the truth of the universe , its laws and its nature from you, who revealed it...

There are no words to describe how much I would like that.

*#she unconsciously, infinitesimally leans closer to him, a sunflower to the sun, quite out of her own control and unaware of her shift#*