#mattellaneous

[msetra]

( ♤ ◦ κχ ) DIALOGUE PROMTS « 𝘈𝘊𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 .

one could claim that by their very nature, gallifreyans are infinitely adaptable. creatures not bound by flesh or physicality who have withstood the ravages of time itself, grasped the raw power of the vortex in their hands & claimed history as their own. any force that would tear the lower species from their continuity is a mere prickle on their skin, & the master imagines she embodies that more than any other time lord, the need to survive, to change. to mold yourself to your surroundings so that you may live when others don't. narvin, on the other hand, is a sad pathetic excuse of a time lord. more pigrat than man, more conniving than intellectual, & she talks to him like something lesser, “ you insolent buffoon. ” she enjoys his desperation when she is its cause but when his incompetence interferes with her schemes, the play-acting & teasing she sneaks into her words melts away to anger.

@mattellaneous « “ let us not be so quick to lay blame. ”

the master can see he is on the backfoot, planning a retreat like the coward that he is. he would not dare face her wrath & before he can take another step back her hand clasps around his throat. for the moment neither rank nor sense matter & even despite superior gallifreyan physiology, his neck would be so easy to snap. one motion, one gesture, & she is rid of a thorn in her side.

it would be bad form to kill one's boss even when you are the master. despite the idiot in charge the CIA's reach & power is such that she is unwilling to pay the price for the brief catharsis of narvin's death. instead her fingers press on his windpipe & she drags him just a little closer, so that he may see the scorn on her face more clearly & she his terror. “ listen to me, ” narvin struggles, she doesn't relent. “ listen, consider this your first & only warning. killing you now would an act of stupidity equal to your own, but arrangements can be made, & nobody's better at planning a murder than me. ” for as cunning as he thinks himself, the master is twice & more, & she affirms it with a self-assured grin.

“ i don't need you as much as you need me, coordinator, go babysit whatever fledging operatives crawled out of the academy & leave me to my own. ” she frees him from her grasp, her point is made, & she bookends her threat with an inquisitive hmm?

[liviacaralis]

it's haste, the negligence that comes with being the sole proprietor of a coverup that needn't be, her hand struggling less to write & more so scribble some kind of response before today's duties clink around her ankle. but oh, romana did insist, & she was in such a rush to escape the trappings of the presidency that carelessness took hold, & how ever so graceful would it be for livia to take the brunt of her quick gateway?

grace has always been her weakness, it appears, & so has power. livia did so easily capitulate to romana's plan of sabbatical by subterfuge as long as the presidency was hers to wield, for however long romana was off-world, running hand in hand with her beloved vagrant. there's a bitter aftertaste to this whole ordeal, the choice between spending a few weeks by lake abydos to unwind at livia's family retreats, or all the danger & disaster that followed the doctor. maybe romana's hearts were never meant to settle, but at least there's comfort in her letters. all penned in ink, all written on the finest paper woven this side of the seven systems, all skirting by every method & manner by which the celestial intervention agency monitors information.

they speak of mystery & adventure, of thrills beyond imagination, entire aspects of the universe that livia's never really held consideration for. more importantly, they speak of a better state of mind, the whole dastardly reason livia's agreed to this ordeal. an interesting form of self therapy, if nothing else, but for romana regret seems to be a cursed thing, & if reconciling with the doctor aids her in feeling a little less of it, it might just make this escapade worth it.

livia's own responses are short & courteous, there are no gods or devils on gallifrey at the moment, & maintaining the status quo is what time lords are good at. she wants a tenure without incident, to make way for the election that will follow romana's final term in office, & so far the only threat to that stability is the CIA's head coordinator & his habit of blundering in unannounced. it's a passing thought, of course, a diversion from her writings, but just as her mind settles back to her task, the door to the presidential office slides open without as much as a warning. livia quickly hides her letter beneath a stack of reports on her desk, picking one at random.

“ ah— narvin. ” livia clears her throat, the most polite form of contempt curving her smile as her golden eyes turn to his. “ she was right, you really don't ever knock. ”

starter for @mattellaneous

[msetra]

Name: Narvin

Age: *Vague noncommittal hand gesture*

Do you like to cuddle?: No. You know why.

Can we make-out?: No. Would you want to?

A night in or dinner out?: A dinner out will inevitably lead to us being dragged into various situations, most likely the results of any exploits you engaged in while not in the employ of the CIA. A night in would mean the two of us being in close proximity for an extended period of time. I am choosing the dinner out.

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Neither, though if you twist my arm I will choose the strawberries.

What makes you a good Valentine?: You would be able to spend the day riling me up, apparently it's "fun" because of my "borderline melodramatic reactions". Other than that, I am generally good looking and would even say I'm an interesting person.

Would you cook for me?: I don't think that would be a good idea.

Would you let me cook for you?: I don't think that would be necessary. Can you cook?

( ♤ ◦ κχ ) VALENTINE'S DAY APPLICATIONS « 𝘈𝘊𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 .

there's enough comedy here to fuel a whole civilization, & the master smiles in response, not devilishly nor coyly, but the smug self-assurance of an ego fed.

“ my dear narvin, ” she begins, her voice playful in the way a cat is with its food, sweet as a lure to catch its prey, “ if i'd known my teasing to push you to fantasize, we'd be far further along our little dance. you really should have said. ”

[driftvoid]

His office door was usually always open – an invitation to just come in without having to make an appointment with him or his secretary first. Ms Brown also knew the deal; telling everyone to just step into his office after a short knock (out of politeness, as she always highlighted). It was not rare that people just came to his office to have a cup of tea or coffee with him and a little chat. Daily business. He liked it this way. What was rare, was serious cases just showing up and using the open-door-policy to address their issues.

– And when Osgood stepped into his office, he could tell she wasn’t here for a light chat, a cup of tea and a few biscuits from the tin he was storing in his desk. It was the look on her face as well as the events that were still heavy on all their shoulders, even if some time had passed now. Grief didn’t simply vanish in a few weeks now, did it?

Nonetheless, he put a smile on his lips, HOPING that he would be wrong with his suspicions. Osgood wasn’t here to hand in her notice, was she? No. Was she here to get a few days off? He would, of course, sign these papers immediately. They all understood she was still dealing with the loss of someone who had been even closer than a sister. Or at least so he thought.

“What can I do for you, Osgood? I can still offer you some biscuits. Vegan, of course.” | @mattellaneous wanted pain!

[driftvoid]

“– Not quite the comment I’ve expected. – But I have to admit, even if in my nightmares, I didn’t imagine you meeting my ex-wife.” Well, who could have known they would have to bring in Evelyn for questioning. | @mattellaneous LIKED.