♢ — @meitenie said: [ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders. ( from columbina )
EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS: THE FIVE SENSES PROMPTS
There are quite a few BENEFITS to being a segment rather than the original Dottore ; modifications made to overcome human limitations, removal from time (that perhaps is both a blessing and a curse), and many others. Unfortunately, being a mostly biological creation, there is still the need to sleep. And just as much as the original, Dottore has always been one to stave off sleep as long as possible in favor of his personal pursuits. Yet the body still demands it, even if it is much further out than what any ordinary person would require. ( And, even if sleep had not been strictly necessary biological function, it likely would have been necessary to allow the brain to reset and find a temporary break lest he get stuck on a problem and remain as trapped as the ancient OUROBORUS devouring its own tail. MULTIPLE SEGMENTS AND PERSPECTIVES ONLY WENT SO FAR.) And thus, it was not too uncommon to find the doctor asleep in a chair or at a desk despite having his own private quarters. At least for the very few brave enough to venture in.
Now was one such instance. The eternal chill of his labs, kept colder to best reject bacteria and preserve specimens and medicines best, hangs heavy even in the relative quiet. Most of the other segments are out, either retrieving items from far lands, or otherwise doing other duties far closer to the nation that had welcomed him in. HE WAS NOT OPERATING ; instead, it is rather evident that research had been the goal with the array of books spread out on the table and the ones he had fallen asleep on, hunched over.
A presence stirs his consciousness ; distrust so deeply rooted that his subconsciousness rouses the consciousness and renders it impossible to sleep when another comes. Just as Dottore does not remove the signature mask even in private ; even if the other harbingers here all know the chaotic red of his eyes thanks to the younger segments like Beta and Theta and Psi who all show their eyes. It is not the presence that truly makes him wake, but the weight of something draped over him. His mind struggles to come up with an explanation for what it is. A blanket, he realizes. But that knowledge does not answer why. He knows, of course, that it is likely to keep the chill at bay even if it is not so great that it bothers him. Rather, Dottore cannot fathom WHY someone would go out of their way to retrieve a blanket or drape it over him. Texture alone is proof it is not one of the medical blankets on hand. It only cuts the question deeper, letting more questions spill forth.
( As INSIGNIFICANT as it is, he cannot help noting the softness of the blanket where it drapes over and rests against the nape of his neck and his cheek. )
Dottore lifts his head slowly, grimacing at the ache from stiff muscles. WITH THE PLUMMAGE AND ACCESSORES, the blanket does not fall even when he sits a fraction more upright and sees Columbine not far from him. It . . . does not make it any easier for him to come up with an explanation. BUT PRIDE HAS HIM QUIET.
" I didn't expect you of all people would be paying me a visit today. " He finally speaks, turning to look at the blanket in silent contemplation that he does not ask upon. " I take it that Sandrone chased you off again? " . . . Why come here though? Why the blanket? That question still remained entirely untouched. He tries and fails to stifle the yawn as he props himself up, regarding her from his spot. " You can stay, if you wish. " He finally decides, though he finds it UNLIKELY she would. ( But on occasion even she could break the predictability statistics. )
