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@masputn
Drumroll Please.
CJ - Pronouns: She/Her - ADHD, and other issues. Blog is 18+ - Mun is 25+ (b. 1995)
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LEGION 1.04 – Chapter 4
It's a relief that the other doesn't take too long to come to a decision, her eyes scanning, mind running rampant in the seconds between her protests and her choice. See the field, Doctor, notice the details, come up with the plan. It is what you did best.
"I believe jury's still out on that one!" Survival instinct was always stronger than 'reason', so it is no surprise that the other runs into the box, promptly turning behind after her and starting to stride towards the TARDIS. "It's not just any old wooden police box--!"
Her hands place on either sides of the box just as she's about to take a step in, momentarily pausing to glance around. That blue coated fence-- Surely not.
One thing at a time, Doctor.
A breath, and she steps in, starting to run towards the console as the doors close behind her. "And I promise we'll get around to answers!" Now, she was in her element, flipping switches and pressing various buttons as she runs circles around the rotor, mouth running mile a minute as she, for all intents and purposes, exposits.
"Cybermen aren't meant to be in this time zone-- Not the Mondasian kind, anyway. Likely fell through some sort of time rift or a dimensional pocket or a long forgotten remnant of an old expedition. --I mean, look at them, they're busted.-- But! That gives us an opportunity. Their shields are faulty, which means they are susceptible to any sudden bursts of concentrated energy and/or radiowaves, and/or energy-as-radiowaves. The same kind of energy my TARDIS just happens to give out if I ask very nicely--"
Was the other one even listening? That was hardly the point. What was the point was the way she grabbed onto the lever, pulling it at the end of her sentence as if to underline it; the rotors whooshing once, twice, before coming to an abrupt stop, the console room shaking but for a moment.
"--A bunny hop. Not the most elegant trick, mind you, but it should be sufficient to shut them down." Then, a smile, somewhat relieved, somewhat crazed. "So-- About those questions?"
It was a lot to take in.
Rather.
It would be, if this little act was something genuine. What to play with first, what little aspect to dig the jaws into and entertain. Usually they're still hung up on the box, weren't they? Even with death having been just so inelegantly at their hind still chomping its jaws. The doe eyed look was good for stalling just a moment or two for time.
"I-- I assume you know what you're doing, most of what-- It's a lot, whatever you're saying is a lot--" Cybermen, that was a thing said that causes the brow to furrow, as was TARDIS, and every other alien thing that she did her best to append as not normal for the purposes of this well rehearsed act.
"First-- What were those things out there, Cybermen? Like those ghosts or whatever from years ago? They look-- Different--" That was still within reason for someone her age to have remembered. But the frantics of having been chased for her life would surely stunt some manner of memory. "Second-- TARDIS??" Almost head scratchingly blunt it must be said, going down the list was quite hard to play for the cheap seats.
"Third?" She motions wildly toward their surroundings, the various whirring sounds and clinking metals, the spacial anomaly that would break these little ape's minds if they tried to think about it for too long.
"The box it's--" Oh how desperately she had been waiting for this stereotype of a moment. This one that surely was so very human. One statement along with one question that always fell upon the other Time Lord's ears. "It's bigger on the inside? I mean-- Did.. Did I hit my head, what's going on!?" Oh how poor little Astra had stumbled out of bed, on her way to the office all dressed plainly. Only to find herself chased by unusual robot aliens, and now here she was standing in impossibility. Woe was she, who'd had her life upturned in but a few moments.
To nearly faint, to be so overwhelmed. She must clench her hands upon the nearest item for support. World was suddenly so weird when once it had been mundane.
"Who... Who are you?"
sᴘʏ ᴋɪᴅs ₂₀₀₁
Aubrey Plaza as Lenny Busker Legion (2017-2019) | Chapter Five
Death was a curious thing for a Time Lord. Not a hard stop, as it was for many races of the universe, but rather...a gentle suggestion, often ignored by her kind. A life this long, many were her brushes with death, some much closer than others. Even cheating it, it had left its marks on her lives nonetheless. A traumatic muscle memory.
That little skip of her hearts whenever she climbed just a bit too high.
Perhaps that is precisely why the usual energy and bravado she puts out momentarily fizzles at the appearance of them. Still all-too-fresh in her mind. "Mondasian Cybermen?!" She exclaims, a noticeably Scottish tinge in her voice as she pulls her hands out of her pockets, now holding a cylindrical metallic object, whirring as she points it toward them.
"Here?" The other's attire and choice of words suggested 21st century Earth, which served to confound her even more. Mondasian Cybermen should not be here, not now.
Judging by how banged up they seemed, she had a feeling they'd be inclined to agree.
It is almost second nature, the way she runs towards her, her free hand extended outward while the other continued to point toward the Cybermen. They seemed damaged enough to be vulnerable. Maybe. Big maybe. Perhaps she could-- Focus on the panicked one first, Doctor.
"Into the box, now!"
Such a fun game to play, she has to stop the grin from stretching wide across those well mannered features of hers when the Doctor rushes in for her daring rescue. Oh how ever the beacon of chivalry even in such sordid moments. Her features instead twist into one of bewilderment, brows knitting tightly furrowed together. Oh such alien words, oh dear me I haven't the faintest--
"Mond-- What?!" Oh to seem so shocked at the other's apparent knowledge, the fear was deliciously the hardest part. Yet having instilled it upon many a face, she likes to think her impression borders on flawless. Carefully laid plans fall neatly together, and the lumbering automatons do their best to keep lingering. Relics, really, but fun ones all the same.
"In the box?! Are you insane?" A shrink away, oh so terrified the damsel was, initially frightful of this suddenly appearing from thin air being. "I think they'll be able to get through an old wooden police box!" How many seconds, how many did any of them usually wait in hesitation? Eyes flashing back and forth between the two options-- Death or mystery.
A brief flash of her cunning eyes to the deathly relics before she lets the decision come to this fictional girl's mind. She practically barrels passed the Doctor, trying to get to some invisible salvation. Barely catching herself as she stumbles into a space that was far larger than was to be expected--
Shock! Awe! Oh the immediate look of the mix of wonder and horror they all surely had. "But-- Wh-- It's--" Oh, Doctor, those words you love hearing so much would have to wait, yes? Danger was afoot, after all, you'd have to figure out who accidentally activated these Cybermen just so terribly dormant since the 80s in the very scrapyard that had been home to you and this very blue box for so many years.
"What is going on? I have-- Way too many questions right now!"
The universe was a great, vast place. An endless mystery, to some; A never ending treadmill, for others. Her opinion on it changed over time, as time was wont to do. For so long she had tried to make sense of it, steer the ship amidst the harsh storms with the hope of a destination. But that was not the point ultimately, was it? To see, to explore, to be surprised. What a great privilege that was.
So, when she lands, when she steps outside, the scene she finds is unsurprising in its surprise. A woman in distress, pursued by-- Murderous robots? Carnivorous poodles? Who was she to say!
"Oh, did I?" She spins on her heel to glance at the all-too-familiar blue box before facing her once more, hands idly in her pockets. "I suppose I did, yeah." She leans over, peering toward the corner, brows furrowed.
"Say, you wouldn't happen to be in a life or death scenario right about now, would you?"
Peril was a great thing, a motivator beyond all others. Quite the rush of adrenaline even if it was manufactured for the sake of adventure. The role of the companion was one that she had never truly understood. God, the Doctor was so entirely enthralled in the idea of taking these little insects on their journeys through time and space that it was like a film of wonder pulled over the eyes.
"Uh-- I guess you could say that--" A manner of speaking, this game started with some relics, a throwback to the old days-- Or future ones, it was all about perspective she supposed. Mondosian Cybermen, stumbling down the alleyway toward the pair of them. To which, she points at them rather shakily.
"Robot--alien-- Space guys-- I just-- I just wanted a coffee but they killed the barista--" Late nights, this guise would say, boring reports in a boring office, never ever dreaming she would see the stars.
"What are those things?! Who are you?! What--?!" Wildly motioning at the TARDIS and the approaching cyborgs with no sense of reason or calm, a burning bewilderment seared into her eyes. It was hard to gather the frantics of it all that these wild animals descended into the moment they ran into things so entirely mundane. Yet, after all these years, she would pride herself on learning them all just a little better.
@burnedself
In the grand microcosm of the universe, it was always so fun to see where the pair of them landed. Of course, she had always considered herself The Doctor's greatest enemy, though some may say the daleks, the Cybermen, any variable there within. No one knew them like she did. What made them tick, the lost little lambs that they flocked to in that big blue box. The stars in their big doe eyes, the look of wonder and amazement when The Doctor stepped in to save them from the danger. Oh, she could waste time muttering and listing off every little name, but who has the time?
Pounding a human heart would be in this moment. Back is frantically pressed to the wall, palm flat against the stone when the box makes its presence known. It's an easy act to play, a part she's played before of the pretend-human. Never so close to the endgame though, how exciting.
"You just-- Did you--" Oh, how pleasantly amusing to play the part of the sheep strayed from the flock standing in the field of wolves. Needing to be rescued all the same.
"Where did you come from?"
if i had a nickel for every time rtd introduced a time lady and it went absolutely nowhere by the time of a season finale because he's absolutely terrible at planning and preparing i'd have two nickels
which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice
rtd1 era is not all that much more cohesive than rtd2
we just have some other writers breaking up rtd nonsense and actors that we come to love so fucking much we skip the bad episodes in our brains
but i'm at the end of time on my re-watch and this story really makes no fucking sense
a child used and abused and manipulated is angry.
a child treated like a monster for being rightfully full of fury and rage is further buried by the rage and hate to become the self-fulfilling prophecy.
the sound of drums is the sound of them stealing away all that you were all that you could have been. they bound you, removed your regenerations that belonged to you all along, and then removed whatever life you had. then threw you away like another failed experiment.
Onto that, every bit of vengeance you seek to enact is undone by your better. a piece of you, a shard of what you could have been that should be lesser than anything you might ever become. A piece you once thought your friend, a piece that works with the ones who hurt you, ruined you.
after an extensive conversation with @burnedself it makes so much more sense all along if the master was the timeless child
thusly, i will be rubbing my grubby mits together about it
i implore everyone to rewatch 200x era who every so often like me and they'll find all their complaints about rtd were true then too, he just wasn't the ONLY writer
There is a god. Of that I promise you. But it speaks with a bloody tongue.
omega should have just been time in the pantheon of discord
lowkey, i think that a derek jacobi master could have held a whole season as good as simm if we had let him
