THIS BLOG IS NOW INACTIVE.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

blake kathryn

JVL

Discoholic 🪩
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
i don't do bad sauce passes
🪼
dirt enthusiast
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird
Three Goblin Art

PR's Tumblrdome

oozey mess
Peter Solarz

#extradirty

shark vs the universe
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor

Love Begins
seen from New Zealand

seen from Netherlands

seen from South Korea

seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from Spain

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Spain

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@tremastersweb
THIS BLOG IS NOW INACTIVE.
The Doctor sits up when he receives the mug, remaining close to Arthur and carefully tucking the blankets in between him and his thigh. He then removes the protective plastic and begins to stir with the lolly, a profound sigh escapes him as he glances at the Magister for a second. He clearly knows what he's doing, a lot better than he does.
He looks back at the mug, focusing on the circular movement which seems to gradually and without his awareness blur his vision of everything that is real around him, silently flushing the crackling sounds of the fire with the swirl away from his perception. His body is unusually still, save for the stirring. He is breathing, in and out, slowly, automatically, as any and all sensations in his body that would usually be identified as emotions get relocated somewhere else within his psyche, away from the present, away from becoming an inconvenience.
He blinks, gently swaying his head as he notices the task had finished, much faster than he thought, or at least that's how he had perceived it. He brings the mug to his face, sniffing it, the heat and strawberry scent partially bringing him back to reality.
He then sets it on the floor, carefully, away enough from them so it doesn't accidentally spill when he turns to Arthur, slides an arm under his torso and gently lifts him to sit. Still supporting his weight, leaning him a bit on his shoulder, he adjusts the blankets so they cover as much of him as possible, then grabs the mug and brings it to him.
"Here, Arthur, drink this. It'll make you feel better."
He lifts it closer to his face, waiting to see if he can manage to grab it, not planning on letting go of it whether he did or not, after all, it'd be likely he'd drop it.
Arthur is distracted, looking at the Doctor, perceiving him through his blurry vision. He feels something slightly shift in the inner workings of his mind, the feeling of safety seems to latch onto the blurry image of the Doctor and fuse with it.
He isn't sure how long he's been staring, but he's woken up by the Doctor picking him up and offering him... Tea? No that's not tea... Arthur doesn't really feel like drinking anything.. He just wants to curl up against the Doctor and sleep, but the Doctor wants him to drink that.. sweet.. thing.. so he should probably do it. The Doctor is always right after all.
He brings his arms up to grab the mug, his hands still feel awfully stiff and cold. He takes a sip of the slightly sweet strawberry flavoured water, it's warm, well maybe a bit too warm.
"Ow-"
"Oh!"
The Doctor gently brings the mug away from his face, only by a few centimeters, carefully to not drop the liquid. "Right, sorry, maybe that's a bit much? Go slow with it, can you blow on it a bit?" He sighs once again, staring at the poor boy, thinking perhaps that's also a bit too much to ask. "Or... maybe I could, if that's too taxing for you."
He doesn't wait for an answer, and begins to blow on the liquid, offering the mug again after a bit, nudging it a little. "Hm?"
Arthur feels like sinking into the floor, the Doctor is here trying to help and he can't even endure drinking a little hot water. He's going to be angry with him for this, surely. And when people get angry, it hurts. He has to make this up to them somehow.. when he's not so cold...
"Um.. thank you."
He takes the mug and forces himself to drink the contents, despite it being a bit too hot still. It does him good in the long run though, making him feel less cold. He can actually feel his hands now, and they hurt. As if they were literally unfreezing. He hands the mug back to the Doctor, wrapping the blankets closer around himself.
Thank you for uh... Saving me.. it was scary here.. the ghosts..
The Doctor smiles when he receives the mug, looking up at the Magister and handing it to him.
"The ghosts, yes…"
He looks at the scattered frames, his lips pressing together, before he adjusts his position again to be closer to Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder and adjusting his tone with the hope he'd feel reassured.
"That must have been rather scary for you. Brave heart, Arthur, the Magister and I will help you get out of here soon, okay? Are you feeling any better?"
He gifts him a smile which surrounds the sentence like a particularly comforting hug, all the contrary to the rageful fit his counterpart expects, creating a nurturing memory that clearly wants to make its way into Arthur’s mind to never abandon it.
The Time Lord seeks the fragment’s eyes again, expectant for the next course of action.
The Doctor sits up when he receives the mug, remaining close to Arthur and carefully tucking the blankets in between him and his thigh. He then removes the protective plastic and begins to stir with the lolly, a profound sigh escapes him as he glances at the Magister for a second. He clearly knows what he's doing, a lot better than he does.
He looks back at the mug, focusing on the circular movement which seems to gradually and without his awareness blur his vision of everything that is real around him, silently flushing the crackling sounds of the fire with the swirl away from his perception. His body is unusually still, save for the stirring. He is breathing, in and out, slowly, automatically, as any and all sensations in his body that would usually be identified as emotions get relocated somewhere else within his psyche, away from the present, away from becoming an inconvenience.
He blinks, gently swaying his head as he notices the task had finished, much faster than he thought, or at least that's how he had perceived it. He brings the mug to his face, sniffing it, the heat and strawberry scent partially bringing him back to reality.
He then sets it on the floor, carefully, away enough from them so it doesn't accidentally spill when he turns to Arthur, slides an arm under his torso and gently lifts him to sit. Still supporting his weight, leaning him a bit on his shoulder, he adjusts the blankets so they cover as much of him as possible, then grabs the mug and brings it to him.
"Here, Arthur, drink this. It'll make you feel better."
He lifts it closer to his face, waiting to see if he can manage to grab it, not planning on letting go of it whether he did or not, after all, it'd be likely he'd drop it.
Arthur is distracted, looking at the Doctor, perceiving him through his blurry vision. He feels something slightly shift in the inner workings of his mind, the feeling of safety seems to latch onto the blurry image of the Doctor and fuse with it.
He isn't sure how long he's been staring, but he's woken up by the Doctor picking him up and offering him... Tea? No that's not tea... Arthur doesn't really feel like drinking anything.. He just wants to curl up against the Doctor and sleep, but the Doctor wants him to drink that.. sweet.. thing.. so he should probably do it. The Doctor is always right after all.
He brings his arms up to grab the mug, his hands still feel awfully stiff and cold. He takes a sip of the slightly sweet strawberry flavoured water, it's warm, well maybe a bit too warm.
"Ow-"
"Oh!"
The Doctor gently brings the mug away from his face, only by a few centimeters, carefully to not drop the liquid. "Right, sorry, maybe that's a bit much? Go slow with it, can you blow on it a bit?" He sighs once again, staring at the poor boy, thinking perhaps that's also a bit too much to ask. "Or... maybe I could, if that's too taxing for you."
He doesn't wait for an answer, and begins to blow on the liquid, offering the mug again after a bit, nudging it a little. "Hm?"
She's secretly glad when he stops practically marching through the TARDIS'S corridors, stopping along with him and watching him lean on a wall and exhale from the corner of her eye - she is, after all, still quite worried about his health, and not getting the feeling that he'd be gentle with himself and accept his limitations because of his wounds, so she's very afraid he's liable to make his state worse.
...all her thoughts scatter like scared pigeons after a cat lunges at their midst when he asks her if this is a ruse in that tone, frustrated but somehow amused, his voice quieter than usual, though. She isn't sure what to even say in response to that, so she says nothing, just stares at him directly and very, very slowly blinks exaggeratedly back at him, her left hand going straight to the top of her toy radio to rub at it and her right hand worrying at the recent scorch mark on her shirt, needing something to do as he seemingly rests leaned on a wall.
Not that he stays resting for long enough, of course. Because why would he. No, he starts fiddling with a roundel and monologuing, then moves on the fiddling with different roundels, not consecutively, almost ignoring the existence of some.
And then his shoulder cracks, and she flinches like she's the one feeling pain from it, a rather wobbly smile carving itself on her face at his subsequent chuckle. Singular focus is something he carries well, and him seemingly voicing his thoughts feeds the still-warm coals of satisfaction making him relax slightly had ignited, sparks of contentment floating through her lazily and mixing with her worry into a nauseating, but somehow also pleasant, cocktail.
...her smile slides right off at the last word he directs to her, the implications of it hitting her like a sledgehammer. She... Freezes up. He... She wants to say he wouldn't expect that of her. But of course he would.
He said she was going to be quiet. She can be quiet no longer.
"...I can't bear to hurt her, please... Please, is there another way?"
Her whisper is warbly, terrified, but there. Both her hands are now cradling her toy radio, as if by shielding the TARDIS's gift to her from sight she can protect the TARDIS herself.
"Would you rather rot in these corridors, with only the supplies you have gathered to keep us alive?"
He turns his head, his eyes seeking the source of her minuscule whisper, and once again a chuckle bumps across the walls in the contained safety of what he has deduced to be a closed loop.
"Your amiable protectee is completely fixed. That is, as completely as she can be during this masterfully executed disaster. Everyone else appears to be occupied, correct? Therefore, I must conclude this architectural meddling is of her own intent!”
He firmly tugs at the roundel in front of him…
“Do you understand what that means?”
…and leaves it, as it won't budge, approaching then the human shaped creature as he cracks his fingers, and stretches his wrists.
"She has no qualms on trapping you here, in derivation from our menial dispute! Would you really trust such an insolent machine? You may attempt an alternative, if you so wish, but I shall stick to what I know to succeed."
He moves to the next roundel, which twists rather easily, and as he removes it…
“Mrrrp!”
…His velvet clothes, once again, begin to collect the shedded fur of a rather joyful cat as she jumps to his chest, and he does his best to catch her with an arm and not drop the heavy object.
“...Ooor that could work, too.”
He gives ‘Lin a look.
The Doctor sits up when he receives the mug, remaining close to Arthur and carefully tucking the blankets in between him and his thigh. He then removes the protective plastic and begins to stir with the lolly, a profound sigh escapes him as he glances at the Magister for a second. He clearly knows what he's doing, a lot better than he does.
He looks back at the mug, focusing on the circular movement which seems to gradually and without his awareness blur his vision of everything that is real around him, silently flushing the crackling sounds of the fire with the swirl away from his perception. His body is unusually still, save for the stirring. He is breathing, in and out, slowly, automatically, as any and all sensations in his body that would usually be identified as emotions get relocated somewhere else within his psyche, away from the present, away from becoming an inconvenience.
He blinks, gently swaying his head as he notices the task had finished, much faster than he thought, or at least that's how he had perceived it. He brings the mug to his face, sniffing it, the heat and strawberry scent partially bringing him back to reality.
He then sets it on the floor, carefully, away enough from them so it doesn't accidentally spill when he turns to Arthur, slides an arm under his torso and gently lifts him to sit. Still supporting his weight, leaning him a bit on his shoulder, he adjusts the blankets so they cover as much of him as possible, then grabs the mug and brings it to him.
"Here, Arthur, drink this. It'll make you feel better."
He lifts it closer to his face, waiting to see if he can manage to grab it, not planning on letting go of it whether he did or not, after all, it'd be likely he'd drop it.
Very grateful, just a little objection, could you tame your girlfriend next time?
...Right, I shall comment on your findings, giving them a proper rating if you wish. You will make your way back here.
-The Master ( @tremastersweb )
Not my girlfriend. I really wish you wouldn't make fun of her like that, but... You do what you do, no matter what anyone wants. It's just... Disrespectful? Insinuating something like that, about someone like her, and something like me.
Anyway, yeah, coming, gimme a mo, yeah?
- 'Lin
~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~
She winds back the braces to a manageable length, humming a gentle melody all the while, then kneels back to pick up the camera holder with her toy radio and hooks it back on its braces, smiling softly and patting the floor while she's down there.
"Thanks, for helping me give him stuff. I know you don't... Care for how he's behaving. But you helped anyway. It means a lot." Her words are quiet and intimate, warm, and she carefully caresses a groove on the floor before getting up.
Now, back to the medbay she goes! Adventure!
The TARDIS' hum sounds soft and floaty, reverberating, resembling the slightly dizzying sensation of having laughed a bit too much. Moments after, it almost appears to surround her, enjoying her melodies, tagging along with them for a while, until the while ends, and the TARDIS appears neutral and distant across her own vastness.
Reaching the medbay's door, sounds of scraping, clanking, adjusting, barely slip under it. The Master's ears perk up and backwards as he notices her melodies and her steps. He quickly adjusts something else, before wheels approach the door from the inside, and him with it.
"...A swift arrival, my dear. It would be in your best interest to avoid contact with the door. I suggest you step aside, now."
Then, a low sound progressively increasing in pitch.
"...Or not. Either way, you would survive, correct?"
Seconds after, an invisible ray collides with the door, near the handle, blasting a hole around the mechanisms and in so, exposing them. The machine responsible for the damage promptly ceases to function, to the catlike's audible disappointment. Well, we all work with what we have, and make the best of it. He peers through the hole, his eyes seeking the human shaped creature, as well as any signs of injury on her.
She enjoys the while of the TARDIS's hum accompanying her, almost dancing through the corridor during that time, but changing her melody to something a little more somber and reassuring once the feeling retreats, trying to soothe the TARDIS, and soon arriving close to the medbay.
As soon as she nears the door, she can discern clangs and scrapes from the other side, and then the characteristic sound of wheels on slick, smooth, linoleum-like floor, and she hums in curiosity, fingers curling over her toy radio in its camera holder. She really does hope the Cat Master won't do something completely ill-advised.
...well, sounds like he is, indeed, going to do something ill-advised. She takes a step away and aside of the door, judging that he would probably attempt a sort of gaolbreak, and not wishing for her toy radio to be harmed in the blast radius of whatever he may unleash, shielding it carefully with her back.
When the ray blasts a hole through the door, she is just to the side, so that she's only lightly grazed by whatever that was and the toy radio is completely intact. Still, the impact makes her blink. Ticklish. Like scratching an itch.
She shakes it off, rubbing her thumb over the top of the toy radio to somehow attempt to communicate her regret to the TARDIS, and carefully nears the door, an apologetic look on her face. That probably hurt, being blasted through like that.
"...is everyone ok? Great and benevolent TARDIS, Cat Master?"
"Perfectly well, and by the looks of it, so are you. Alive, as per usual."
He raises his eyebrows in amusement, before stepping away from the hole. Of course, he wasn't attempting to kill her, nor harm her in the slightest really, yet had the ray hit any vital part, it wouldn't have taken long for her to fall... theoretically.
Soon after he leaves to search for another fork, which he bends into a makeshift pick, a small quantity of black smoke starts greeting 'Lin as it escapes the hole, only barely letting show what seems to be a surgical machine repurposed into a laser blaster of sorts, her candid gifts having helped the finishing touches. Shame, he thinks, that it didn't hold enough to provide himself with such a weapon, yet it did the work.
The TARDIS has certainly experienced worse, but she doesn't miss her chance to protest, opening and closing the top cabinets as he passes by, causing some objects to fall near him. He scoffs, stepping away from them and simply taking another route. He then picks apart the remaining pieces that hold the door closed, that of the security lock and the regular one, newly gloved hands preventing potential burns with the remaining heat. He then pushes with the wheeled machine, finally meeting his counterpart.
He stares, for a moment, considering the reply he didn't send, and her devastated expression. The felinelike's eyelids close slowly, before opening again with his gaze pointing in any other direction. He'd rather have her as an ally, after all.
"...Well, did you think asking nicely would have freed me, hm?"
He grabs the bag from his side, before going out.
"Right, 'Lin, you know her better than I do. I shall need a sheltered place, one less depressing, if you wish for me to properly appreciate your thoughtful offerings... Somewhere to exist unbothered. You will lead the way."
She can't help but sigh at his words. Does he not realise he could have been hurt? Or that he hurt the TARDIS? Or that it's not safe for him to be out yet? ...of course he does. Well. It's not like that's going to stop him. She already knew who he is, and what he is, before she brought him stuff, thus helping him, so. There's only herself to blame for the TARDIS getting hurt, isn't there.
"I'm sorry..."
Her words are a barely perceptible whisper, too quiet for a normal hearing range, but hopefully perceivable to the TARDIS. Her hand leaves the toy radio to worry at her shirt, finding a charred circular mark on the fabric over the part of her skin covering where her stomach meets her bowels, and sighing again.
"I wish things could be less bellicose, between you."
This whisper is accompanied by a tremulous, fragile smile, directly followed by a forceful shaking-off of this maudlin mood. She stares at the smoking hole (what the hell is he doing in there?), and listens to the crash and bang of falling objects.
No, really, what the hell is he doing in there?
She waits with bated breath until he manages to open the door, then just... Stares at him. He... Doesn't seem to have managed to injure himself further, but...
She still puts on a disappointed, sad look. It's not even fake! He didn't have to do that, she's sure of it, didn't have to harm the TARDIS. She could have helped disengage the security lock, she's sure of it, if he gave her some pointers. ...and that way he'd still have his laser blaster thingy. ...actually, he could hurt himself badly with that, best it's out of commission.
She gives him a very gentle, slow blink towards him, trying to tell him that it's still ok, even though he did something that upset her, for multiple reasons.
"Well, it wouldn't have hurt much, trying that first."
She sighs yet again at his words, suddenly a little tired. Of course, using her name to engender trust so he can use her - completely unnecessary. ...but she can't fault him for not asking.
"...alright, I don't think so, but... Let's say I do, hm? How much can you walk?"
She hasn't taken her eyes, or at least the edge of her vision, off of him the entire time, trying to gauge his state. Her fingers pat at her toy radio absently.
"...Enough."
He gives no further explanation, a gelid affirmation in contrast with the turning and stretching of his neck that follows, well, he is able to perform the movement without risking losing his head, and a little stroll would not defeat his will.
He then takes a few steps towards her, inspecting the strange yet familiar shapes her facial features had morphed into, curving his own eyebrow as he makes no conscious attempt at deciphering the emotional fugue.
He opens his mouth, his next command made inaudible, interrupted by distant sounds, rushed steps arriving at the console room to their left lifting up his spine by a thread, so he carefully ghosts to their right instead, tilting his head and indicating his guide with his eyes the initial path to follow.
She... Is getting ready to sigh again and brave offering her help, should he want it (the way he turned and stretched his head looked a little too much like a testing movement to her eyes for her to be altogether confident with the accuracy of his rather cold answer), when she gets distracted by the way his eyebrows resemble fish-hooks as he just seems to... Stare at her, moving closer.
A small part of her wonders if the movements, reminiscent of a big cat approaching possible prey with curiosity, are meant to make her feel anxious or something - they don't. She's just relieved he appears to have no major difficulty walking, honestly. ...and also successfully fighting the urge to come closer and pat his bicep lightly.
...Which causes her face to scrunch up in confusion, completely derailing her train of thought for a second, until he opens his mouth again, and is interrupted by something that sounds like the echo of hurried steps from the direction of... The console room? She blinks, more intrigued by his reaction to the sound than the sound itself, nodding lightly at him and moving to the right, a thumb distractedly rubbing over the top of her toy radio, and her free hand instinctively grasping his own, gloved, one, to better guide him, since he appears to want her to be the one to take the lead.
It takes a few seconds for him to register the feeling of the hand contact, and immediately as he does, he slaps her hand and retires his own, glaring at her. He wishes he could use words, and say exactly what he thinks, or rather what he thinks he thinks, such as I will kill you if you insist on misinterpreting me, or, I am not a toddler, I am completely capable of walking on my own, or perhaps, simply, do not touch me unless you wish to experience absolute agony.
He frowns, still not taking his eyes off her, hoping she gets the message, not for her own good, but for his temper. He resists a hiss that would certainly resonate across the corridors, and instead takes a slow, silent, deep breath, before rolling his eyes and continuing to follow her.
She... Blinks owlishly at her hand getting slapped off, a big part of her having been unaware of her holding onto his hand in the first place - it had felt disquietingly natural, like when she holds her own hand to simulate contact, she hadn't even thought about it. She stares at her hand, betrayed by her own actions, and tries to convey her sincere apology through her gaze, very slowly blinking back at him and lowering her chin contritely.
"Sorry, don't know what came over me, do you think you could forget this happened?" She deliberates, wondering if she ought to continue, lightly rubbing the top of her toy radio, then decides to take the plunge. "...if you think you are likely to lose me in the corridors, I can find something more palatable than tactile contact, like... I can wear a leash?"
Her proposition causes his eyebrows to rise in disbelief, followed by a confused huff that turns into slight amusement. He stares, for a second, wondering in his perplexity why the apparently indestructible creature appears to continuously accept his will through her own self depreciation, clearly, she's not aware of her qualities. His body then relaxes, slightly.
"Let us hope it doesn't come to that."
He then lifts his chin, and gestures at her to continue the walk, once again testing her servile demeanor.
"If you wish me to trust your competence, you will move now, before anyone finds me. This is your priority. You will do so quietly."
The catlike individual then smiles to himself. The only leash he should need, her minuscule sense of self-worth.
She's watching his reactions keenly, cataloguing the way he slightly relaxes after he thinks of her offer. Him relaxing makes her calmer, tension she wasn't consciously holding onto slipping through her fingers, leaving her looser, the warmth of a successful stratagem suffusing her and making her grin widely. She hums quietly at his words, lowering her head in acquiescence to his demands (well, not demands exactly - he's telling her what is to happen, basically. She wonders if it's easier, for him, than ordering her around, since orders can be defied. It's obviously more palatable than asking for what he wants, and it's not like she minds it. She's just curious.).
She'd hum something, it feels like an occasion deserving of a soundtrack, but he said she was going to be quiet, so, quiet she shall be. A pity, she thinks Fiona Apple's "Better Version Of Me" would have suited the moment wonderfully; maybe later, when they get to somewhere he can be safe.
...which might take a while. After all, she's almost certain they're back in the same corridor they started in. Are they going in loops?
It doesn't take him long to notice the repetitive pattern of the obnoxiously basic walls. He looks around, furrowing his brow, eventually leaning on one of them, stopping his light march and promptly expelling the accumulated carbon dioxide from his lungs.
"...Well, my dear? Is this a ruse?"
His lip twitches as he sends his coalmine canary a frustrated look, which he then transfers to the surface supporting his weight. In fact, he hasn't seen any doors yet. Playing his own game? Oh, if that isn't petty.
After his short rest, he begins to inspect one of the roundels, pushing, pulling, attempting to twist.
"...The Doctor must have worked a successful repair, if she's able to reorganise with such ease."
He moves to another, skipping some, as if following a specific pattern. Something in his shoulder makes a cracking sound, to which he reacts with a simple chuckle, his eyes fixated on the task.
"Is she insulting my intelligence, or merely attempting to exhaust my patience? Yet, every loop must have a starting point. Don't just stand there, find something to disassemble."
By the time the pair had reached the mountain, the sun had set and the cold had become apparent. The Doctor hadn't complained at all during their hike as to not alert his counterpart of his strain, yet he was about to do so for a different reason.
"Ah. What use is a torch when you can't see anything?"
He let out a frustrated huff, and as if the old torch had taken offense to his comment, it turned off. He gave it a few smacks to get it working again, its light illuminating the thick fog that surrounded them and mixed with the clouds of used air the cold made visible out of their mouths. He looked at the tracker, still nothing in sight.
"...Arthur was not lying about the cold... are we near? We have been walking for a while, we should be near, unless we're lost, but we can't- are we lost?"
...He was clearly frustrated. He looked at the Magister, expectant.
He remained quiet for a long moment, looking calm, too calm, almost a practiced level of calm, even, as he slowed to a stop and looked down at his phone, humming and lifting his head slightly and sniffing.
"Can you smell that?"
He doesn't wait for his response and turns sharply on his heels and pushed his way into the woods, stopping at the edge to wait for him to follow, and then heading through the thin treeline and into a clearing with a cabin, it was dark from the shade of the trees and the fog, but even with the faint light from the torch, it was obvious that there was a path through the woods on the other side of the small clearing.
"Signal is coming from in there and- ah... his phone's just died."
He frowned, staring at the cabin for a moment, before gesturing towards it.
"After you, my dear."
"Smell wh-? Hey!"
He followed, quick as he could, and as he walked he noticed the smell as well, which instead of bringing him relief seemed to further intensify the dread in his hearts.
The Doctor ran off to the door, only registering the Magister's words after he had reached it, thinking just cabin and person in danger. He knocked, not expecting someone to greet him, but just to announce himself.
"Arthur! Arthur, it's me, the Doctor!"
He exhaled, then allowing himself to catch his breath a bit, then attempting to open the door, which was a bit stuck. He managed to push it open with a few tries, then rushing inside to find the source of the fire, where he had said he was sleeping.
"Arthur?"
The cabin is dark, in the light of the torch the Doctor can see the fire in the fireplace that's now merely hot coals. The room looks.. messy, whatever pictures were on the walls are all torn down, lying on the floor, all face down. The chairs and other furniture are pushed aside haphazardly. In front of the fireplace is a pile of blankets and pillows from which he can faintly see a few strands of bright red hair peeking out.
The air inside the cabin may be slightly warmer than outside but not by more than a degree or two.
"Doctor...? You're not... Real though... You.. said.. told me..."
The pile of blankets shifts slightly as Arthur speaks, his voice is quiet and a bit raspy, he trails off with each word, as if it was too difficult to string together a coherent sentence.
He'd followed in behind him, glancing around the cabin for a moment, and then closing the door behind them to keep as much heat in as possible as he noticed the lack of heat inside the building.
His eyes land on Arthur, bundled under the blankets and he frowns at his mumbling, then moves around him, grabbing a chair and moving to the fireplace, breaking it up and setting the wooden shards inside it and digging through his pocket, pulling out a lighter and carefully setting it alight, making sure the fire didn't grow too quickly, and once it was at a manageble level, grabbing a nearby pot and pulling a bottle of water out of his pocket, pouring it into the pot, and setting it by the fire to boil.
While that was boiling, he turned to watch the Doctor and Arthur, keeping an eye on them, on Arthur mostly, but not making any comments, not yet, anyway, he had to focus on making sure Arthur could survive the walk back to the van, to the TARDISes, Vera's would be best, he needed the medbay, and the one in the Doctor's was in use and his two... well-
"Well that's not... good..."
The Doctor crouched, gently sliding a hand over his forehead, far too cold to the touch for his liking. He carefully lifted his head, so he'd look at him, his eyes darting across his face and chest as if it wasn't obvious yet to him that his breath was considerably slow, and his mumblings incoherent. He searched for his pulse, his hearts were clearly struggling. The guilt-ridden Time Lord sent a concerned look to the Magister, which softened slightly as he noticed he had been taking care of the fire.
He returned his attention to Arthur, lowering his head again and sliding himself under the blankets, pressing his body against him as to share some of his body heat, and then tucking in the blankets. It was the least he could do.
"I'm here now, okay? I am terribly sorry, I... if I hadn't delayed you wouldn't be this bad, but I'm here now."
He stayed silent for a moment, pondering, that the young, freezing Time Lord had waited long enough to assimilate his absence might as well have meant he did not exist, that he could have been a moment too late, that his neglect could have resulted in a rather excruciating regeneration, and worse, a failing attempt, if his organs were to struggle as much as to keep his body working.
Of course, it was solely his fault, and he did not deserve the help the Magister was offering with managing the situation. Yet, Arthur did. He barely noticed his own body had begun to generate a small, soothing rocking motion, as if from instinct.
"...We are here. And we'll get you to safety, okay...?"
He looked over at the Magister again, worry all over his face.
"I'm afraid one of his hearts has a slight arrhythmia, I... will we be able to move him safely? It's a long walk..."
Arthur mumbles something incoherently about 'ghosts' and 'the cold'. He struggles to keep his eyes open, this Doctor looks.. different... Blurry.. for one. And not like the one that was there before... Or wasn't..
Arthur's eyes close and when he opens them again, he notices time has passed by, far too quickly.. everyone has moved. He knows someone is next to him, instinctively he moves closer to them, curling up like a cat to absorb as much warmth as he can. When his rational mind catches up, he realises it is the Doctor that's next to him. He doesn't really think of the implications of any of it. He just knows this is good. The Doctor always fixes things... Everything will be alright now.
He hums at the Doctor's questions, then glances at Arthur again.
"Not right now, no, he's too out of it, going out there right now would very likely kill him, and we don't have the equipment to deal with a regeneration out in the cold like this on us..."
He turns back to the pot, watching as the water starts bubbling slightly, not quite boiled, but getting there.
"But, we have to get him to the medbay, he won't survive the night here, I'm afraid, so our current goal should be to get him in a state where we can get him safely to the TARDISes and into the medbay of Vera's one, where I'll be able to get him into a safe state."
He looks at him, making eye contact for a moment before looking away, doing his best to convey just how serious this was.
"You cannot rub his body to heat him up or help his circulation, this could cause more complications, but keeping him next to you like that is helping, as is talking to him, you're keeping him awake and focused on something, so keep talking to him, I'm making a hot drink for him, and we need to get him some sugar too to help his body regulate his temperature up a bit..."
He stares at the pot again and frowns.
"This would be better if it had something in it to flavour it, but the only thing I have on hand is a tea bag, and that contains caffeine, which he cannot have in his state, so... hot water it'll have to be."
He pulls a face at that, plain hot water, nasty.
"Do cover his head with the blankets, won't you? The skin there is still exposed, which isn't helping him to retain heat right now... just make sure he can breathe while his head is covered, alright? This shouldn't take too much longer to boil, keep him awake, don't let him sleep."
The Doctor stares back at the Magister, processing the information, swallowing and then taking a deep breath. He does as he instructs, carefully covering Arthur's head and then gently scooping it up by placing a hand to the back of his neck, so he can have a good look at his face.
"Alright, no rubbing... Arthur, awake, stay awake, stay with me. Try and look at me, okay? You'll make it, but I need you to try to focus. It's very important. Can you try and answer my questions? Simple yes or no...?"
He moves his head again, giving it a slight shake, to call his attention.
"Arthur. The Magister is making you something warm to drink. Would you like that? Right, sugar! I should have sugar..."
He puts his other hand in his pocket, bigger on the inside, and starts feeling the objects around. Not that... no, not that either... Eugh. That was oddly soft. His face scrunches up.
"...I think that was a fish. Do you like fish, Arthur?
He raises an eyebrow, inhaling, frustrated at his own lack of organisation, still hoping for an answer from Arthur. Then, he gets out a bottle... He squints at it, it has mould in it, he's putting it back, slowly.
"I don't think you'd like to drink that... Alright, third time's the charm, they say... "
A lollypop! Strawberry. Not what he was looking for, but... He lifts it, and shakes his hand in the air to get the Magister's attention.
"...Would this help?"
Very grateful, just a little objection, could you tame your girlfriend next time?
...Right, I shall comment on your findings, giving them a proper rating if you wish. You will make your way back here.
-The Master ( @tremastersweb )
Not my girlfriend. I really wish you wouldn't make fun of her like that, but... You do what you do, no matter what anyone wants. It's just... Disrespectful? Insinuating something like that, about someone like her, and something like me.
Anyway, yeah, coming, gimme a mo, yeah?
- 'Lin
~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~
She winds back the braces to a manageable length, humming a gentle melody all the while, then kneels back to pick up the camera holder with her toy radio and hooks it back on its braces, smiling softly and patting the floor while she's down there.
"Thanks, for helping me give him stuff. I know you don't... Care for how he's behaving. But you helped anyway. It means a lot." Her words are quiet and intimate, warm, and she carefully caresses a groove on the floor before getting up.
Now, back to the medbay she goes! Adventure!
The TARDIS' hum sounds soft and floaty, reverberating, resembling the slightly dizzying sensation of having laughed a bit too much. Moments after, it almost appears to surround her, enjoying her melodies, tagging along with them for a while, until the while ends, and the TARDIS appears neutral and distant across her own vastness.
Reaching the medbay's door, sounds of scraping, clanking, adjusting, barely slip under it. The Master's ears perk up and backwards as he notices her melodies and her steps. He quickly adjusts something else, before wheels approach the door from the inside, and him with it.
"...A swift arrival, my dear. It would be in your best interest to avoid contact with the door. I suggest you step aside, now."
Then, a low sound progressively increasing in pitch.
"...Or not. Either way, you would survive, correct?"
Seconds after, an invisible ray collides with the door, near the handle, blasting a hole around the mechanisms and in so, exposing them. The machine responsible for the damage promptly ceases to function, to the catlike's audible disappointment. Well, we all work with what we have, and make the best of it. He peers through the hole, his eyes seeking the human shaped creature, as well as any signs of injury on her.
She enjoys the while of the TARDIS's hum accompanying her, almost dancing through the corridor during that time, but changing her melody to something a little more somber and reassuring once the feeling retreats, trying to soothe the TARDIS, and soon arriving close to the medbay.
As soon as she nears the door, she can discern clangs and scrapes from the other side, and then the characteristic sound of wheels on slick, smooth, linoleum-like floor, and she hums in curiosity, fingers curling over her toy radio in its camera holder. She really does hope the Cat Master won't do something completely ill-advised.
...well, sounds like he is, indeed, going to do something ill-advised. She takes a step away and aside of the door, judging that he would probably attempt a sort of gaolbreak, and not wishing for her toy radio to be harmed in the blast radius of whatever he may unleash, shielding it carefully with her back.
When the ray blasts a hole through the door, she is just to the side, so that she's only lightly grazed by whatever that was and the toy radio is completely intact. Still, the impact makes her blink. Ticklish. Like scratching an itch.
She shakes it off, rubbing her thumb over the top of the toy radio to somehow attempt to communicate her regret to the TARDIS, and carefully nears the door, an apologetic look on her face. That probably hurt, being blasted through like that.
"...is everyone ok? Great and benevolent TARDIS, Cat Master?"
"Perfectly well, and by the looks of it, so are you. Alive, as per usual."
He raises his eyebrows in amusement, before stepping away from the hole. Of course, he wasn't attempting to kill her, nor harm her in the slightest really, yet had the ray hit any vital part, it wouldn't have taken long for her to fall... theoretically.
Soon after he leaves to search for another fork, which he bends into a makeshift pick, a small quantity of black smoke starts greeting 'Lin as it escapes the hole, only barely letting show what seems to be a surgical machine repurposed into a laser blaster of sorts, her candid gifts having helped the finishing touches. Shame, he thinks, that it didn't hold enough to provide himself with such a weapon, yet it did the work.
The TARDIS has certainly experienced worse, but she doesn't miss her chance to protest, opening and closing the top cabinets as he passes by, causing some objects to fall near him. He scoffs, stepping away from them and simply taking another route. He then picks apart the remaining pieces that hold the door closed, that of the security lock and the regular one, newly gloved hands preventing potential burns with the remaining heat. He then pushes with the wheeled machine, finally meeting his counterpart.
He stares, for a moment, considering the reply he didn't send, and her devastated expression. The felinelike's eyelids close slowly, before opening again with his gaze pointing in any other direction. He'd rather have her as an ally, after all.
"...Well, did you think asking nicely would have freed me, hm?"
He grabs the bag from his side, before going out.
"Right, 'Lin, you know her better than I do. I shall need a sheltered place, one less depressing, if you wish for me to properly appreciate your thoughtful offerings... Somewhere to exist unbothered. You will lead the way."
She can't help but sigh at his words. Does he not realise he could have been hurt? Or that he hurt the TARDIS? Or that it's not safe for him to be out yet? ...of course he does. Well. It's not like that's going to stop him. She already knew who he is, and what he is, before she brought him stuff, thus helping him, so. There's only herself to blame for the TARDIS getting hurt, isn't there.
"I'm sorry..."
Her words are a barely perceptible whisper, too quiet for a normal hearing range, but hopefully perceivable to the TARDIS. Her hand leaves the toy radio to worry at her shirt, finding a charred circular mark on the fabric over the part of her skin covering where her stomach meets her bowels, and sighing again.
"I wish things could be less bellicose, between you."
This whisper is accompanied by a tremulous, fragile smile, directly followed by a forceful shaking-off of this maudlin mood. She stares at the smoking hole (what the hell is he doing in there?), and listens to the crash and bang of falling objects.
No, really, what the hell is he doing in there?
She waits with bated breath until he manages to open the door, then just... Stares at him. He... Doesn't seem to have managed to injure himself further, but...
She still puts on a disappointed, sad look. It's not even fake! He didn't have to do that, she's sure of it, didn't have to harm the TARDIS. She could have helped disengage the security lock, she's sure of it, if he gave her some pointers. ...and that way he'd still have his laser blaster thingy. ...actually, he could hurt himself badly with that, best it's out of commission.
She gives him a very gentle, slow blink towards him, trying to tell him that it's still ok, even though he did something that upset her, for multiple reasons.
"Well, it wouldn't have hurt much, trying that first."
She sighs yet again at his words, suddenly a little tired. Of course, using her name to engender trust so he can use her - completely unnecessary. ...but she can't fault him for not asking.
"...alright, I don't think so, but... Let's say I do, hm? How much can you walk?"
She hasn't taken her eyes, or at least the edge of her vision, off of him the entire time, trying to gauge his state. Her fingers pat at her toy radio absently.
"...Enough."
He gives no further explanation, a gelid affirmation in contrast with the turning and stretching of his neck that follows, well, he is able to perform the movement without risking losing his head, and a little stroll would not defeat his will.
He then takes a few steps towards her, inspecting the strange yet familiar shapes her facial features had morphed into, curving his own eyebrow as he makes no conscious attempt at deciphering the emotional fugue.
He opens his mouth, his next command made inaudible, interrupted by distant sounds, rushed steps arriving at the console room to their left lifting up his spine by a thread, so he carefully ghosts to their right instead, tilting his head and indicating his guide with his eyes the initial path to follow.
She... Is getting ready to sigh again and brave offering her help, should he want it (the way he turned and stretched his head looked a little too much like a testing movement to her eyes for her to be altogether confident with the accuracy of his rather cold answer), when she gets distracted by the way his eyebrows resemble fish-hooks as he just seems to... Stare at her, moving closer.
A small part of her wonders if the movements, reminiscent of a big cat approaching possible prey with curiosity, are meant to make her feel anxious or something - they don't. She's just relieved he appears to have no major difficulty walking, honestly. ...and also successfully fighting the urge to come closer and pat his bicep lightly.
...Which causes her face to scrunch up in confusion, completely derailing her train of thought for a second, until he opens his mouth again, and is interrupted by something that sounds like the echo of hurried steps from the direction of... The console room? She blinks, more intrigued by his reaction to the sound than the sound itself, nodding lightly at him and moving to the right, a thumb distractedly rubbing over the top of her toy radio, and her free hand instinctively grasping his own, gloved, one, to better guide him, since he appears to want her to be the one to take the lead.
It takes a few seconds for him to register the feeling of the hand contact, and immediately as he does, he slaps her hand and retires his own, glaring at her. He wishes he could use words, and say exactly what he thinks, or rather what he thinks he thinks, such as I will kill you if you insist on misinterpreting me, or, I am not a toddler, I am completely capable of walking on my own, or perhaps, simply, do not touch me unless you wish to experience absolute agony.
He frowns, still not taking his eyes off her, hoping she gets the message, not for her own good, but for his temper. He resists a hiss that would certainly resonate across the corridors, and instead takes a slow, silent, deep breath, before rolling his eyes and continuing to follow her.
She... Blinks owlishly at her hand getting slapped off, a big part of her having been unaware of her holding onto his hand in the first place - it had felt disquietingly natural, like when she holds her own hand to simulate contact, she hadn't even thought about it. She stares at her hand, betrayed by her own actions, and tries to convey her sincere apology through her gaze, very slowly blinking back at him and lowering her chin contritely.
"Sorry, don't know what came over me, do you think you could forget this happened?" She deliberates, wondering if she ought to continue, lightly rubbing the top of her toy radio, then decides to take the plunge. "...if you think you are likely to lose me in the corridors, I can find something more palatable than tactile contact, like... I can wear a leash?"
Her proposition causes his eyebrows to rise in disbelief, followed by a confused huff that turns into slight amusement. He stares, for a second, wondering in his perplexity why the apparently indestructible creature appears to continuously accept his will through her own self depreciation, clearly, she's not aware of her qualities. His body then relaxes, slightly.
"Let us hope it doesn't come to that."
He then lifts his chin, and gestures at her to continue the walk, once again testing her servile demeanor.
"If you wish me to trust your competence, you will move now, before anyone finds me. This is your priority. You will do so quietly."
The catlike individual then smiles to himself. The only leash he should need, her minuscule sense of self-worth.
By the time the pair had reached the mountain, the sun had set and the cold had become apparent. The Doctor hadn't complained at all during their hike as to not alert his counterpart of his strain, yet he was about to do so for a different reason.
"Ah. What use is a torch when you can't see anything?"
He let out a frustrated huff, and as if the old torch had taken offense to his comment, it turned off. He gave it a few smacks to get it working again, its light illuminating the thick fog that surrounded them and mixed with the clouds of used air the cold made visible out of their mouths. He looked at the tracker, still nothing in sight.
"...Arthur was not lying about the cold... are we near? We have been walking for a while, we should be near, unless we're lost, but we can't- are we lost?"
...He was clearly frustrated. He looked at the Magister, expectant.
He remained quiet for a long moment, looking calm, too calm, almost a practiced level of calm, even, as he slowed to a stop and looked down at his phone, humming and lifting his head slightly and sniffing.
"Can you smell that?"
He doesn't wait for his response and turns sharply on his heels and pushed his way into the woods, stopping at the edge to wait for him to follow, and then heading through the thin treeline and into a clearing with a cabin, it was dark from the shade of the trees and the fog, but even with the faint light from the torch, it was obvious that there was a path through the woods on the other side of the small clearing.
"Signal is coming from in there and- ah... his phone's just died."
He frowned, staring at the cabin for a moment, before gesturing towards it.
"After you, my dear."
"Smell wh-? Hey!"
He followed, quick as he could, and as he walked he noticed the smell as well, which instead of bringing him relief seemed to further intensify the dread in his hearts.
The Doctor ran off to the door, only registering the Magister's words after he had reached it, thinking just cabin and person in danger. He knocked, not expecting someone to greet him, but just to announce himself.
"Arthur! Arthur, it's me, the Doctor!"
He exhaled, then allowing himself to catch his breath a bit, then attempting to open the door, which was a bit stuck. He managed to push it open with a few tries, then rushing inside to find the source of the fire, where he had said he was sleeping.
"Arthur?"
The cabin is dark, in the light of the torch the Doctor can see the fire in the fireplace that's now merely hot coals. The room looks.. messy, whatever pictures were on the walls are all torn down, lying on the floor, all face down. The chairs and other furniture are pushed aside haphazardly. In front of the fireplace is a pile of blankets and pillows from which he can faintly see a few strands of bright red hair peeking out.
The air inside the cabin may be slightly warmer than outside but not by more than a degree or two.
"Doctor...? You're not... Real though... You.. said.. told me..."
The pile of blankets shifts slightly as Arthur speaks, his voice is quiet and a bit raspy, he trails off with each word, as if it was too difficult to string together a coherent sentence.
He'd followed in behind him, glancing around the cabin for a moment, and then closing the door behind them to keep as much heat in as possible as he noticed the lack of heat inside the building.
His eyes land on Arthur, bundled under the blankets and he frowns at his mumbling, then moves around him, grabbing a chair and moving to the fireplace, breaking it up and setting the wooden shards inside it and digging through his pocket, pulling out a lighter and carefully setting it alight, making sure the fire didn't grow too quickly, and once it was at a manageble level, grabbing a nearby pot and pulling a bottle of water out of his pocket, pouring it into the pot, and setting it by the fire to boil.
While that was boiling, he turned to watch the Doctor and Arthur, keeping an eye on them, on Arthur mostly, but not making any comments, not yet, anyway, he had to focus on making sure Arthur could survive the walk back to the van, to the TARDISes, Vera's would be best, he needed the medbay, and the one in the Doctor's was in use and his two... well-
"Well that's not... good..."
The Doctor crouched, gently sliding a hand over his forehead, far too cold to the touch for his liking. He carefully lifted his head, so he'd look at him, his eyes darting across his face and chest as if it wasn't obvious yet to him that his breath was considerably slow, and his mumblings incoherent. He searched for his pulse, his hearts were clearly struggling. The guilt-ridden Time Lord sent a concerned look to the Magister, which softened slightly as he noticed he had been taking care of the fire.
He returned his attention to Arthur, lowering his head again and sliding himself under the blankets, pressing his body against him as to share some of his body heat, and then tucking in the blankets. It was the least he could do.
"I'm here now, okay? I am terribly sorry, I... if I hadn't delayed you wouldn't be this bad, but I'm here now."
He stayed silent for a moment, pondering, that the young, freezing Time Lord had waited long enough to assimilate his absence might as well have meant he did not exist, that he could have been a moment too late, that his neglect could have resulted in a rather excruciating regeneration, and worse, a failing attempt, if his organs were to struggle as much as to keep his body working.
Of course, it was solely his fault, and he did not deserve the help the Magister was offering with managing the situation. Yet, Arthur did. He barely noticed his own body had begun to generate a small, soothing rocking motion, as if from instinct.
"...We are here. And we'll get you to safety, okay...?"
He looked over at the Magister again, worry all over his face.
"I'm afraid one of his hearts has a slight arrhythmia, I... will we be able to move him safely? It's a long walk..."
By the time the pair had reached the mountain, the sun had set and the cold had become apparent. The Doctor hadn't complained at all during their hike as to not alert his counterpart of his strain, yet he was about to do so for a different reason.
"Ah. What use is a torch when you can't see anything?"
He let out a frustrated huff, and as if the old torch had taken offense to his comment, it turned off. He gave it a few smacks to get it working again, its light illuminating the thick fog that surrounded them and mixed with the clouds of used air the cold made visible out of their mouths. He looked at the tracker, still nothing in sight.
"...Arthur was not lying about the cold... are we near? We have been walking for a while, we should be near, unless we're lost, but we can't- are we lost?"
...He was clearly frustrated. He looked at the Magister, expectant.
He remained quiet for a long moment, looking calm, too calm, almost a practiced level of calm, even, as he slowed to a stop and looked down at his phone, humming and lifting his head slightly and sniffing.
"Can you smell that?"
He doesn't wait for his response and turns sharply on his heels and pushed his way into the woods, stopping at the edge to wait for him to follow, and then heading through the thin treeline and into a clearing with a cabin, it was dark from the shade of the trees and the fog, but even with the faint light from the torch, it was obvious that there was a path through the woods on the other side of the small clearing.
"Signal is coming from in there and- ah... his phone's just died."
He frowned, staring at the cabin for a moment, before gesturing towards it.
"After you, my dear."
"Smell wh-? Hey!"
He followed, quick as he could, and as he walked he noticed the smell as well, which instead of bringing him relief seemed to further intensify the dread in his hearts.
The Doctor ran off to the door, only registering the Magister's words after he had reached it, thinking just cabin and person in danger. He knocked, not expecting someone to greet him, but just to announce himself.
"Arthur! Arthur, it's me, the Doctor!"
He exhaled, then allowing himself to catch his breath a bit, then attempting to open the door, which was a bit stuck. He managed to push it open with a few tries, then rushing inside to find the source of the fire, where he had said he was sleeping.
"Arthur?"
Very grateful, just a little objection, could you tame your girlfriend next time?
...Right, I shall comment on your findings, giving them a proper rating if you wish. You will make your way back here.
-The Master ( @tremastersweb )
Not my girlfriend. I really wish you wouldn't make fun of her like that, but... You do what you do, no matter what anyone wants. It's just... Disrespectful? Insinuating something like that, about someone like her, and something like me.
Anyway, yeah, coming, gimme a mo, yeah?
- 'Lin
~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~
She winds back the braces to a manageable length, humming a gentle melody all the while, then kneels back to pick up the camera holder with her toy radio and hooks it back on its braces, smiling softly and patting the floor while she's down there.
"Thanks, for helping me give him stuff. I know you don't... Care for how he's behaving. But you helped anyway. It means a lot." Her words are quiet and intimate, warm, and she carefully caresses a groove on the floor before getting up.
Now, back to the medbay she goes! Adventure!
The TARDIS' hum sounds soft and floaty, reverberating, resembling the slightly dizzying sensation of having laughed a bit too much. Moments after, it almost appears to surround her, enjoying her melodies, tagging along with them for a while, until the while ends, and the TARDIS appears neutral and distant across her own vastness.
Reaching the medbay's door, sounds of scraping, clanking, adjusting, barely slip under it. The Master's ears perk up and backwards as he notices her melodies and her steps. He quickly adjusts something else, before wheels approach the door from the inside, and him with it.
"...A swift arrival, my dear. It would be in your best interest to avoid contact with the door. I suggest you step aside, now."
Then, a low sound progressively increasing in pitch.
"...Or not. Either way, you would survive, correct?"
Seconds after, an invisible ray collides with the door, near the handle, blasting a hole around the mechanisms and in so, exposing them. The machine responsible for the damage promptly ceases to function, to the catlike's audible disappointment. Well, we all work with what we have, and make the best of it. He peers through the hole, his eyes seeking the human shaped creature, as well as any signs of injury on her.
She enjoys the while of the TARDIS's hum accompanying her, almost dancing through the corridor during that time, but changing her melody to something a little more somber and reassuring once the feeling retreats, trying to soothe the TARDIS, and soon arriving close to the medbay.
As soon as she nears the door, she can discern clangs and scrapes from the other side, and then the characteristic sound of wheels on slick, smooth, linoleum-like floor, and she hums in curiosity, fingers curling over her toy radio in its camera holder. She really does hope the Cat Master won't do something completely ill-advised.
...well, sounds like he is, indeed, going to do something ill-advised. She takes a step away and aside of the door, judging that he would probably attempt a sort of gaolbreak, and not wishing for her toy radio to be harmed in the blast radius of whatever he may unleash, shielding it carefully with her back.
When the ray blasts a hole through the door, she is just to the side, so that she's only lightly grazed by whatever that was and the toy radio is completely intact. Still, the impact makes her blink. Ticklish. Like scratching an itch.
She shakes it off, rubbing her thumb over the top of the toy radio to somehow attempt to communicate her regret to the TARDIS, and carefully nears the door, an apologetic look on her face. That probably hurt, being blasted through like that.
"...is everyone ok? Great and benevolent TARDIS, Cat Master?"
"Perfectly well, and by the looks of it, so are you. Alive, as per usual."
He raises his eyebrows in amusement, before stepping away from the hole. Of course, he wasn't attempting to kill her, nor harm her in the slightest really, yet had the ray hit any vital part, it wouldn't have taken long for her to fall... theoretically.
Soon after he leaves to search for another fork, which he bends into a makeshift pick, a small quantity of black smoke starts greeting 'Lin as it escapes the hole, only barely letting show what seems to be a surgical machine repurposed into a laser blaster of sorts, her candid gifts having helped the finishing touches. Shame, he thinks, that it didn't hold enough to provide himself with such a weapon, yet it did the work.
The TARDIS has certainly experienced worse, but she doesn't miss her chance to protest, opening and closing the top cabinets as he passes by, causing some objects to fall near him. He scoffs, stepping away from them and simply taking another route. He then picks apart the remaining pieces that hold the door closed, that of the security lock and the regular one, newly gloved hands preventing potential burns with the remaining heat. He then pushes with the wheeled machine, finally meeting his counterpart.
He stares, for a moment, considering the reply he didn't send, and her devastated expression. The felinelike's eyelids close slowly, before opening again with his gaze pointing in any other direction. He'd rather have her as an ally, after all.
"...Well, did you think asking nicely would have freed me, hm?"
He grabs the bag from his side, before going out.
"Right, 'Lin, you know her better than I do. I shall need a sheltered place, one less depressing, if you wish for me to properly appreciate your thoughtful offerings... Somewhere to exist unbothered. You will lead the way."
She can't help but sigh at his words. Does he not realise he could have been hurt? Or that he hurt the TARDIS? Or that it's not safe for him to be out yet? ...of course he does. Well. It's not like that's going to stop him. She already knew who he is, and what he is, before she brought him stuff, thus helping him, so. There's only herself to blame for the TARDIS getting hurt, isn't there.
"I'm sorry..."
Her words are a barely perceptible whisper, too quiet for a normal hearing range, but hopefully perceivable to the TARDIS. Her hand leaves the toy radio to worry at her shirt, finding a charred circular mark on the fabric over the part of her skin covering where her stomach meets her bowels, and sighing again.
"I wish things could be less bellicose, between you."
This whisper is accompanied by a tremulous, fragile smile, directly followed by a forceful shaking-off of this maudlin mood. She stares at the smoking hole (what the hell is he doing in there?), and listens to the crash and bang of falling objects.
No, really, what the hell is he doing in there?
She waits with bated breath until he manages to open the door, then just... Stares at him. He... Doesn't seem to have managed to injure himself further, but...
She still puts on a disappointed, sad look. It's not even fake! He didn't have to do that, she's sure of it, didn't have to harm the TARDIS. She could have helped disengage the security lock, she's sure of it, if he gave her some pointers. ...and that way he'd still have his laser blaster thingy. ...actually, he could hurt himself badly with that, best it's out of commission.
She gives him a very gentle, slow blink towards him, trying to tell him that it's still ok, even though he did something that upset her, for multiple reasons.
"Well, it wouldn't have hurt much, trying that first."
She sighs yet again at his words, suddenly a little tired. Of course, using her name to engender trust so he can use her - completely unnecessary. ...but she can't fault him for not asking.
"...alright, I don't think so, but... Let's say I do, hm? How much can you walk?"
She hasn't taken her eyes, or at least the edge of her vision, off of him the entire time, trying to gauge his state. Her fingers pat at her toy radio absently.
"...Enough."
He gives no further explanation, a gelid affirmation in contrast with the turning and stretching of his neck that follows, well, he is able to perform the movement without risking losing his head, and a little stroll would not defeat his will.
He then takes a few steps towards her, inspecting the strange yet familiar shapes her facial features had morphed into, curving his own eyebrow as he makes no conscious attempt at deciphering the emotional fugue.
He opens his mouth, his next command made inaudible, interrupted by distant sounds, rushed steps arriving at the console room to their left lifting up his spine by a thread, so he carefully ghosts to their right instead, tilting his head and indicating his guide with his eyes the initial path to follow.
She... Is getting ready to sigh again and brave offering her help, should he want it (the way he turned and stretched his head looked a little too much like a testing movement to her eyes for her to be altogether confident with the accuracy of his rather cold answer), when she gets distracted by the way his eyebrows resemble fish-hooks as he just seems to... Stare at her, moving closer.
A small part of her wonders if the movements, reminiscent of a big cat approaching possible prey with curiosity, are meant to make her feel anxious or something - they don't. She's just relieved he appears to have no major difficulty walking, honestly. ...and also successfully fighting the urge to come closer and pat his bicep lightly.
...Which causes her face to scrunch up in confusion, completely derailing her train of thought for a second, until he opens his mouth again, and is interrupted by something that sounds like the echo of hurried steps from the direction of... The console room? She blinks, more intrigued by his reaction to the sound than the sound itself, nodding lightly at him and moving to the right, a thumb distractedly rubbing over the top of her toy radio, and her free hand instinctively grasping his own, gloved, one, to better guide him, since he appears to want her to be the one to take the lead.
It takes a few seconds for him to register the feeling of the hand contact, and immediately as he does, he slaps her hand and retires his own, glaring at her. He wishes he could use words, and say exactly what he thinks, or rather what he thinks he thinks, such as I will kill you if you insist on misinterpreting me, or, I am not a toddler, I am completely capable of walking on my own, or perhaps, simply, do not touch me unless you wish to experience absolute agony.
He frowns, still not taking his eyes off her, hoping she gets the message, not for her own good, but for his temper. He resists a hiss that would certainly resonate across the corridors, and instead takes a slow, silent, deep breath, before rolling his eyes and continuing to follow her.
By the time the pair had reached the mountain, the sun had set and the cold had become apparent. The Doctor hadn't complained at all during their hike as to not alert his counterpart of his strain, yet he was about to do so for a different reason.
"Ah. What use is a torch when you can't see anything?"
He let out a frustrated huff, and as if the old torch had taken offense to his comment, it turned off. He gave it a few smacks to get it working again, its light illuminating the thick fog that surrounded them and mixed with the clouds of used air the cold made visible out of their mouths. He looked at the tracker, still nothing in sight.
"...Arthur was not lying about the cold... are we near? We have been walking for a while, we should be near, unless we're lost, but we can't- are we lost?"
...He was clearly frustrated. He looked at the Magister, expectant.
By the time the Magister's question resonates into the console room, the Doctor is just reaching it, breathing with difficulty again. He had rushed to make up for his small visit, canister handles tied to each other in pairs for easier transport not to take two trips. He stops right at the door.
"Yes... Just... one second...!"
He then leans against the wall, closing the door for a moment, something in the air making it harder to breathe albeit thin and most of it distant. Too busy to think of it, he reaches into his pocket, feeling with his hand... a... sock full of coins? Well, no need for them, he leaves them on the floor, only to touch an... interesting texture, something rather private, oh, is that from that time he ran into Mozart? He puts it aside, still inside the pocket, and... Ah. That's it. The right one, hopefully.
...Blue, he said. He rotates the inhaler in his hand, once again, considering, looking at his surroundings to make sure he's not seen. There's no time to lose, he reminds himself. He shakes it as he takes a deep breath in, then out, emptying himself from as much air as he can, then putting it to his mouth. He's unsure his timing is right, once he's done breathing in the medicine, he looks at the ceiling as he holds his breath, feeling his heartbeats in the quietness of it all, and he listens. One of them aches from the multiple self-shaming thoughts running through his head, the undeserving feeling, as well as the lack of care during all of this face's run, the what could have been, had he listened to the other before, grateful at the help, one which tries to tell him that he's not...
He exhales, slowly, quickly stuffing it back into his pocket dimension, grabbing the cords. Back to work, no time to sit with emotions, not now, there's always time later. He swallows, noticing he is, indeed, breathing better. He opens the door and takes the containers off the van, walking towards the Magister, his eyes slightly humid and his lip twitching to make a smile. He shakes them, to get the attention off himself. "Sorry if I took a bit, I wanted to check on Vera, she's alright, occupied but taking care...! She says the electric batteries are almost ready, as well. Isn't she amazing?"
He walks past him, searching for the diesel pump. Once he's found it, he begins to fill the first canister.
He lets out a small, somewhat tired sounding chuckle at his words.
"I'm glad you did, and I'm glad she's alright... I- yeah, she is, I don't think she realises that, however... very quick once she has an idea in her head... I don't think she understands just how amazing that is, how much longer it'd take most other people..."
He sighs and grabs two of the empty canisters and goes over to another diesel pump, moving to fill one of them as he hums.
"Quicker this way..."
His words are muttered and he takes the moment so simply stare off around them, taking in just how empty it was, no cars, no people, not even Toclafane, nothing...
. . .
. . . Something that would, one day, be his fault.
"Well, perhaps we should make sure we tell her more often, then!..."
Of course, in such a situation where everything seems bigger than themselves, it wasn't easy to believe one was enough. Relying on mutual appreciation, he thinks to himself, is the best they can do. He finishes up with one of the canisters, moving to the other, the quietness around them becoming increasingly uncomfortable, preventing him from shaking the sensation of dread from his chest.
He glances over at the Magister, in search of conversation that could relieve the sensation, a strategy that had worked centuries ago, at a time and place where the complexities between them had not yet matured into such a challenging amount of tight knots to unravel. Unable to think of a light-hearted topic, he gives up, looks away and starts clicking his tongue with an improvised rhythm, soon humming a melody under it to further sway his thoughts away.
Once he's done with the second canister, he loads them into the van. Immediately after, he rummages into the bag the Magister had provided, as delighted as he could afford to be about the great variety of snacks. He finds some of the drinks and takes them with him, approaching his counterpart and offering them to him...
"Are you done? Here, hold these."
...Or, well, practically shoving them into his arms, as he takes the remaining containers to the van.
Very grateful, just a little objection, could you tame your girlfriend next time?
...Right, I shall comment on your findings, giving them a proper rating if you wish. You will make your way back here.
-The Master ( @tremastersweb )
Not my girlfriend. I really wish you wouldn't make fun of her like that, but... You do what you do, no matter what anyone wants. It's just... Disrespectful? Insinuating something like that, about someone like her, and something like me.
Anyway, yeah, coming, gimme a mo, yeah?
- 'Lin
~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~∞~
She winds back the braces to a manageable length, humming a gentle melody all the while, then kneels back to pick up the camera holder with her toy radio and hooks it back on its braces, smiling softly and patting the floor while she's down there.
"Thanks, for helping me give him stuff. I know you don't... Care for how he's behaving. But you helped anyway. It means a lot." Her words are quiet and intimate, warm, and she carefully caresses a groove on the floor before getting up.
Now, back to the medbay she goes! Adventure!
The TARDIS' hum sounds soft and floaty, reverberating, resembling the slightly dizzying sensation of having laughed a bit too much. Moments after, it almost appears to surround her, enjoying her melodies, tagging along with them for a while, until the while ends, and the TARDIS appears neutral and distant across her own vastness.
Reaching the medbay's door, sounds of scraping, clanking, adjusting, barely slip under it. The Master's ears perk up and backwards as he notices her melodies and her steps. He quickly adjusts something else, before wheels approach the door from the inside, and him with it.
"...A swift arrival, my dear. It would be in your best interest to avoid contact with the door. I suggest you step aside, now."
Then, a low sound progressively increasing in pitch.
"...Or not. Either way, you would survive, correct?"
Seconds after, an invisible ray collides with the door, near the handle, blasting a hole around the mechanisms and in so, exposing them. The machine responsible for the damage promptly ceases to function, to the catlike's audible disappointment. Well, we all work with what we have, and make the best of it. He peers through the hole, his eyes seeking the human shaped creature, as well as any signs of injury on her.
She enjoys the while of the TARDIS's hum accompanying her, almost dancing through the corridor during that time, but changing her melody to something a little more somber and reassuring once the feeling retreats, trying to soothe the TARDIS, and soon arriving close to the medbay.
As soon as she nears the door, she can discern clangs and scrapes from the other side, and then the characteristic sound of wheels on slick, smooth, linoleum-like floor, and she hums in curiosity, fingers curling over her toy radio in its camera holder. She really does hope the Cat Master won't do something completely ill-advised.
...well, sounds like he is, indeed, going to do something ill-advised. She takes a step away and aside of the door, judging that he would probably attempt a sort of gaolbreak, and not wishing for her toy radio to be harmed in the blast radius of whatever he may unleash, shielding it carefully with her back.
When the ray blasts a hole through the door, she is just to the side, so that she's only lightly grazed by whatever that was and the toy radio is completely intact. Still, the impact makes her blink. Ticklish. Like scratching an itch.
She shakes it off, rubbing her thumb over the top of the toy radio to somehow attempt to communicate her regret to the TARDIS, and carefully nears the door, an apologetic look on her face. That probably hurt, being blasted through like that.
"...is everyone ok? Great and benevolent TARDIS, Cat Master?"
"Perfectly well, and by the looks of it, so are you. Alive, as per usual."
He raises his eyebrows in amusement, before stepping away from the hole. Of course, he wasn't attempting to kill her, nor harm her in the slightest really, yet had the ray hit any vital part, it wouldn't have taken long for her to fall... theoretically.
Soon after he leaves to search for another fork, which he bends into a makeshift pick, a small quantity of black smoke starts greeting 'Lin as it escapes the hole, only barely letting show what seems to be a surgical machine repurposed into a laser blaster of sorts, her candid gifts having helped the finishing touches. Shame, he thinks, that it didn't hold enough to provide himself with such a weapon, yet it did the work.
The TARDIS has certainly experienced worse, but she doesn't miss her chance to protest, opening and closing the top cabinets as he passes by, causing some objects to fall near him. He scoffs, stepping away from them and simply taking another route. He then picks apart the remaining pieces that hold the door closed, that of the security lock and the regular one, newly gloved hands preventing potential burns with the remaining heat. He then pushes with the wheeled machine, finally meeting his counterpart.
He stares, for a moment, considering the reply he didn't send, and her devastated expression. The felinelike's eyelids close slowly, before opening again with his gaze pointing in any other direction. He'd rather have her as an ally, after all.
"...Well, did you think asking nicely would have freed me, hm?"
He grabs the bag from his side, before going out.
"Right, 'Lin, you know her better than I do. I shall need a sheltered place, one less depressing, if you wish for me to properly appreciate your thoughtful offerings... Somewhere to exist unbothered. You will lead the way."
She can't help but sigh at his words. Does he not realise he could have been hurt? Or that he hurt the TARDIS? Or that it's not safe for him to be out yet? ...of course he does. Well. It's not like that's going to stop him. She already knew who he is, and what he is, before she brought him stuff, thus helping him, so. There's only herself to blame for the TARDIS getting hurt, isn't there.
"I'm sorry..."
Her words are a barely perceptible whisper, too quiet for a normal hearing range, but hopefully perceivable to the TARDIS. Her hand leaves the toy radio to worry at her shirt, finding a charred circular mark on the fabric over the part of her skin covering where her stomach meets her bowels, and sighing again.
"I wish things could be less bellicose, between you."
This whisper is accompanied by a tremulous, fragile smile, directly followed by a forceful shaking-off of this maudlin mood. She stares at the smoking hole (what the hell is he doing in there?), and listens to the crash and bang of falling objects.
No, really, what the hell is he doing in there?
She waits with bated breath until he manages to open the door, then just... Stares at him. He... Doesn't seem to have managed to injure himself further, but...
She still puts on a disappointed, sad look. It's not even fake! He didn't have to do that, she's sure of it, didn't have to harm the TARDIS. She could have helped disengage the security lock, she's sure of it, if he gave her some pointers. ...and that way he'd still have his laser blaster thingy. ...actually, he could hurt himself badly with that, best it's out of commission.
She gives him a very gentle, slow blink towards him, trying to tell him that it's still ok, even though he did something that upset her, for multiple reasons.
"Well, it wouldn't have hurt much, trying that first."
She sighs yet again at his words, suddenly a little tired. Of course, using her name to engender trust so he can use her - completely unnecessary. ...but she can't fault him for not asking.
"...alright, I don't think so, but... Let's say I do, hm? How much can you walk?"
She hasn't taken her eyes, or at least the edge of her vision, off of him the entire time, trying to gauge his state. Her fingers pat at her toy radio absently.
"...Enough."
He gives no further explanation, a gelid affirmation in contrast with the turning and stretching of his neck that follows, well, he is able to perform the movement without risking losing his head, and a little stroll would not defeat his will.
He then takes a few steps towards her, inspecting the strange yet familiar shapes her facial features had morphed into, curving his own eyebrow as he makes no conscious attempt at deciphering the emotional fugue.
He opens his mouth, his next command made inaudible, interrupted by distant sounds, rushed steps arriving at the console room to their left lifting up his spine by a thread, so he carefully ghosts to their right instead, tilting his head and indicating his guide with his eyes the initial path to follow.
By the time the Magister's question resonates into the console room, the Doctor is just reaching it, breathing with difficulty again. He had rushed to make up for his small visit, canister handles tied to each other in pairs for easier transport not to take two trips. He stops right at the door.
"Yes... Just... one second...!"
He then leans against the wall, closing the door for a moment, something in the air making it harder to breathe albeit thin and most of it distant. Too busy to think of it, he reaches into his pocket, feeling with his hand... a... sock full of coins? Well, no need for them, he leaves them on the floor, only to touch an... interesting texture, something rather private, oh, is that from that time he ran into Mozart? He puts it aside, still inside the pocket, and... Ah. That's it. The right one, hopefully.
...Blue, he said. He rotates the inhaler in his hand, once again, considering, looking at his surroundings to make sure he's not seen. There's no time to lose, he reminds himself. He shakes it as he takes a deep breath in, then out, emptying himself from as much air as he can, then putting it to his mouth. He's unsure his timing is right, once he's done breathing in the medicine, he looks at the ceiling as he holds his breath, feeling his heartbeats in the quietness of it all, and he listens. One of them aches from the multiple self-shaming thoughts running through his head, the undeserving feeling, as well as the lack of care during all of this face's run, the what could have been, had he listened to the other before, grateful at the help, one which tries to tell him that he's not...
He exhales, slowly, quickly stuffing it back into his pocket dimension, grabbing the cords. Back to work, no time to sit with emotions, not now, there's always time later. He swallows, noticing he is, indeed, breathing better. He opens the door and takes the containers off the van, walking towards the Magister, his eyes slightly humid and his lip twitching to make a smile. He shakes them, to get the attention off himself. "Sorry if I took a bit, I wanted to check on Vera, she's alright, occupied but taking care...! She says the electric batteries are almost ready, as well. Isn't she amazing?"
He walks past him, searching for the diesel pump. Once he's found it, he begins to fill the first canister.
"Alright! Four it is..."
The Doctor scurries into his TARDIS, leaving the door open to ease his own work. The empty containers were... to the right? Yes. Surely they should be to the right.
He walks briskly across corridors, almost passing the workshop, then he gasps, turning back on his feet. Well, it will only be a second. He knocks on the door, before opening it.
"...Vera? Hello! It's me. The Doctor. Is all going well over there?"
He walks a bit closer, observing her and her work, offering her a small smile, certainly not his usual bright one.
"Did you find the water dispenser, in the end? Ah, I had the chance to visit your TARDIS, well, she seems to be alright."
As he speaks, he tries to remember the exact room he had stored the containers. He's almost got it.
Vera looks up from her project and smiles. They’re back, they’re safe!
“Welcome back! I’m doing okay, I had a snack and some water and I’m almost done fixing our fuel problem! How did the rescue mission go?”
"...Ah."
His smile grows, one to distract from thinking of all that's happened, all he's learnt, all the delay. Of course she'd think that, by now, they'd have Arthur. He hides his hands on his back in shame, tilting his head and avoiding her gaze.
"There's... still a bit to go, I'm headed to the storage room to retrieve something, but don't worry, we'll... get there in no time. I just wanted to make sure you're alright, too."
He sways a bit on his feet, now looking at them, and... aha! Three rooms ahead. Right. He pats her shoulder, before swiftly turning around.
"Glad you're taking care. And thank you, for all your help. Ring me when you're done, yes? Well, must dash!"
He closes the door behind him, before rushing to the target room.
"Alright! Four it is..."
The Doctor scurries into his TARDIS, leaving the door open to ease his own work. The empty containers were... to the right? Yes. Surely they should be to the right.
He walks briskly across corridors, almost passing the workshop, then he gasps, turning back on his feet. Well, it will only be a second. He knocks on the door, before opening it.
"...Vera? Hello! It's me. The Doctor. Is all going well over there?"
He walks a bit closer, observing her and her work, offering her a small smile, certainly not his usual bright one.
"Did you find the water dispenser, in the end? Ah, I had the chance to visit your TARDIS, well, she seems to be alright."
As he speaks, he tries to remember the exact room he had stored the containers. He's almost got it.