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[personal profile] eleventh_doctor

[info]theatrical_muse 
Prompt: 319 - Friday, and 
[info]best_served_hot 's first lines meme.
Word count: 997, not including the borrowed first lines..
Author's note: Idk what you mean when you say you want comprehensible plot. 
 




the end.

The air was light and cool, blowing gently and ruffling their hair and clothes without being bothersome. The Doctor shut her eyes briefly, sharpening her perception to the feel of wind on her skin, then slowly allowed her senses to open outward, from the tips of her fingers to the sensitive skin of her bare shoulders.

The Master splayed his fingers out along her collarbone, and she shivered. He was close now, close enough that she could feel a distinct bulge pressing against her hip bone.

She tilted her head so she could see him better and smiled, a little cheekily. “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

 

between.

Glass shattering roused the Doctor abruptly. She didn’t move or open her eyes at first - just the feel of time flowing around her was too much sensation right now, even without the addition of light, colour and motion. But someone kicked her in the ribs, lightly at first, then more insistently. “Rise and shine, Doctor,” the Master said, his voice grating on her mind. “It’s time to face the day.”

Her eyes opened, unfocused at first. His faced blurred and swam in front of her eyes, so she rolled onto her side and threw up a bit. It didn’t help, but at least some of it landed on his shoes, which was probably decent payback for whatever he did to her that she couldn’t remember.

Annoyingly, he didn’t seem particularly bothered by the presence of stomach acids on his leather shoes. “That’s it,” he said, purposefully too loud. “Detox! I should take pictures of you like this and broadcast them to your companions. They can make Christmas cards.”

“What happened?” she said, once she felt like she could speak and her head wouldn’t fall off or explode or anything inconvenient like that. He just laughed and pulled her to her feet, too fast.

And then the world exploded.

 

 

I watch him as he struggles to regain his feet and viciously kick him back down, my foot landing square in the middle of his chest. “Where’s your Doctor now?” I taunt him.

He doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t surprise me, but I laugh all the same.

 

Neither of you can win this. It’s written in the stars, your blood. Your conflict is eternal, your lives always locked in useless combat. If you could only learn to work together, resolve your petty views of the universe, then you could have a chance. The universe might live.

Of course, you never will, but it’s nice to dream, isn’t it?

 

the beginning.

It was tiny, no bigger than a small coin, but so much power was held within it. Power to rule the cosmos, or preserve its freedom for all of eternity. Power to destroy, to create, to form ideas out of clay and breathe into them life. So small, and yet the implications it held so huge.

 He held it in his hands, and madness whispered in his mind. He looked up at the two renegades of Gallifrey, the last children. His eyes sparkled like fever, like galaxies. He smiled at the them, peaceful and terrible. “Time,” he said, his voice weighted down with power. “Time, time… Time.”

For a moment, he tried to hold her up, ask her for help, but she was already too weakened by his games of vengeance. And then the world exploded.

 

Is it about the burning rage before the embers and the ashes? Is it about a rhythm in four-four time or the desire to run so far away that even you can’t find yourself? In truth, it is none of these; and all. In truth, you could not have avoided your own fates, written by Time Herself.

You are the product of the personalities sleeping in your minds, but you are also independent of them. If you wanted, you could make your differences not matter anymore, you could join together again. The differences between you don’t matter anyway, not in the corridors of Time.

Of course, you never will. This is written, also.

 

The first clue for the Doctor, that something was amiss in his TARDIS, wasn't the music blaring through it at an insane volume. This is a story, after all, and I like intricacies. I like subtlety and underlying meanings and details vivid enough to reach through your chest and yank your heart out. I like the stark contrast of running shoes and the rhythm of drums, both marked by blood so deep red it’s almost obscene.

I’m just twisted that way, I suppose.

I’m tired of these two, finally freed from their eternal combat. I fill their joint grave with desert sands to cover them, the beauty of the barren. It’s time to move on to greater things, like the universe. I have such plans for the whole of it, improvements to make. When I’m done, the universe will burn with my fire, and such a pretty flame it will make.

And then I am punched.

The Doctor smiles at me, knuckles stinging-red from contact with my jaw. As I stare at her, uncomprehending, her mortal enemy and best friend sets a sword to my neck.

 

But then, you two always did love to break the rules.

 

Their timelines twisted back into place as the universe reasserted its natural order, one second following the next in sequence. The Doctor pried the Key to Time from dead fingers and crushed it into pieces beneath her heel.

The Master let his sword drop to the ground. It clattered and stained the ground with blood.  “I could have used that, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I had to get rid of it.”

He snorted and flicked drops of acidic blood from his sleeves. “You spoil all my fun.”

The burning sands of the planet returned to their proper forms, the forests and valleys of the Eye of Orion; the site of the universe’s salvation. “No wonder it’s so beautiful,” the Doctor murmured. Before the Master could make some snide comment about her idiotic need to create a moral or lesson, she grinned at him, suddenly cheerful. “You know, we just saved the universe together.”

The Master awarded the Doctor’s glee with a look. “I created an illusion in the mind of a creature more powerful than Rassilon and beheaded him. It was practically what I was going to do tonight anyway. Don’t make more of it than it was.”

“Still,” the Doctor said. “It felt right.”

The scalding hot winds of the planet seamlessly shifted to the cool breezes of autumn. The Doctor shut her eyes.


Date: 2010-01-31 06:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] best-served-hot.livejournal.com
Who says anything about wanting comprehensible plot? I love this! It's madness but beautifully written madness. Also, it's the perfect sort of madness you'd imagine with them.

I can't manage much more without trying to make sense of everything and this sort of story is best left confusing. Yes, I mean that as a compliment.

*hugs* Thank you!

Date: 2010-01-31 07:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eleventh-doctor.livejournal.com
I FEEL BAD THAT IT DOESN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE. But then I get happy that it didn't turn out to be smut, which I was worried about at first, since I am terrible at smut. Implied I can do, but I have a streak of immaturity that runs deep and shrieks things like TIME LORD COOTIES!!!, it's very bothersome and distracting.

...What was I saying? OH. RIGHT. I am so incredibly glad that you enjoyed it, despite lack of coherent plot (you're now officially trained to watch Ghost Light!).

Also, I may now be slightly taken by the idea of the Doctor and Master finding ways to work together without either actually converting to the Dark/Light Side of the Force.

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May 2010

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