and that's your horoscope for today! (for [ profile] savagestime)

Feb. 3rd, 2010 07:45 pm
eleventh_doctor: (puppy eyes)
[personal profile] eleventh_doctor
After several bumps and truly impressive ricocheting reminiscent of a pinball machine, a blue box with the dimensions and sign of a Blue Police Call box touches down.

There's a few crashing sounds from the inside that sound somewhat painful.

And then a woman with short, jaggedly-cut black hair sporting an extremely fashionable outfit consisting of a denim miniskirt (probably Rose's), a cricketer's jacket (guess who), a ridiculously long scarf (definitely her Fourth's), and a Beatles concert t-shirt (who even knows) leans out the door, squinting in the light.

"Trakken, isn't it?" she asks of whoever happens to be closest by.


No, it isn't.

Date: 2010-02-04 07:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
No, no it is not at all, but the Time Lord gets point for trying. The Master has gotten very good, over the years, at identifying Time Lords on sight. Something about being on the run from most of them compelled him to get good at them. And after bumping into one particular Time Lords enough time, it is hard to miss that Time Lord, even when she has changed her sex and started dressing in something very, very unusual. Something about the blue box adds to 'dead give-away.'

It is not, the Master has to say, the glorious future he'd skipped out on Death By Time War for.

Still, is was an opportunist, and the Doctor does not have the best track record with dealing with regenerative trauma. He smiled the Saxon Grin (TM). "Afraid not. Can I help you?"

Date: 2010-02-04 08:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
She glanced back into the TARDIS at something not visible from the outside, then back at him. "You're certain of that? Not... Trakken the planet recycled, or Trakken the village, or the one in Germany no one can pronounce?"

Abruptly, she turned on one heel and marched back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind her.

Fifteen seconds later, she opened it again. "Do I know you?"

Date: 2010-02-05 08:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I think you might," the Master says, because ambiguity means you never have to lie. "You're very familiar to me."

He stands quite close to the TARDIS door. Close enough, indeed, to either pull the Doctor out or step in.

Date: 2010-02-05 08:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
She steps out fully now, thus showing off her outfit in all its horribly-matched glory. She peers at the Master for a minute in that special personal space be damned kind way, then steps back.

"It's-" She snaps her fingers repeatedly, as if this somehow will help her remember. (It doesn't.) (It makes a nice sound, though.) "-something beginning with x?"

Date: 2010-02-06 05:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The Master isn't sure if he's pleased that his (rather non-existent) disguise is holding up or quite angry that she doesn't recognize him.

(He appreciates the finger-snapping, though. It has a nice rhythm.)

He settles on Mildly Mocking.

"No. No, it isn't."

Date: 2010-02-06 07:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Xyphtiphegia?" she says, completely ignoring him. "Xylocutin? Xptiliphin!"

Yes, that's not working out. Hrm. She leans on his shoulder while she's thinking, because it's there and the world appears to be tilting at a slight angle from its proper orbit. "Xombodia? X-insti-"


"-Do you smell that?"

Without any more warning than that, she collapses into a truly impressive coughing fit.

Date: 2010-02-07 12:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
...Well. That was unusual. The Master was thus presented with another dilemma: take the Doctor into the TARDIS, thereby gaining access to the timeship, or drag her further away, thereby separating her from her timeship. As usual, pettiness triumphed, and the Master pulled the Doctor out from the TARDIS, shutting the door and saying, "Come along, we'll find you somewhere to sit."

He didn't know where, but he would find somewhere. Eventually.

Date: 2010-02-07 01:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"I'm alright," she says, which is a bit useless because it takes several tries to get out through the coughing and therefore she is not, in fact, alright. Maybe she took up smoking this regeneration.

She has the vague feeling she ought to stay with her TARDIS, but on the other hand she can't remember why, exactly, so that's clearly all right, then!

Date: 2010-02-07 01:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
With that settled between them, the Master pulls the Doctor along to... a hospital.

Remembering the last time he and the Doctor had an adventure connected to a hospital, the Master considers steering them both very quickly away. Regrettably, the hospital staff has another idea, and as the Master is making an effort not to kill anyone just yet, suddenly he finds himself pushed towards a waiting room. "No, sorry, can't leave her. She's my..."

It occurs to him that 'secret brother' is extremely inapplicable in this case and so instead he opts for, "...daughter," which would have been less convincing if he weren't on a planet where no one goes grey until after they're 90th birthday, at the earliest.

Date: 2010-02-07 02:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
At the very least, she isn't fond of hospitals and therefore he is fulfilling his duty as best enemy. Also, their first step is to put her out of her misery by giving her a sedative, which definitely helps in the sense that she might not wake up until the next century, and when she does she probably still won't be all together, mind-wise.

So that works out. In the meantime, they take down notes and treat her for mild burns, and also send someone over to consult with him every now and then, asking annoying questions like what happened, what's her name, what's your name, and how much money can we squeeze out of you for this?

You know, the usual things. Once they're done, they'll leave him and her alone so she can rest and he can draw mustaches on her, or something.

Date: 2010-02-07 08:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The Master is a bit put out by the sedatives. As tempting as it is to project his desire for a beard onto the Doctor, now he has to endure annoying hospital questions. (For the record, she crashed into a giant duck, her name is Jo Grant and his is Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart, and he embezzled a couple million out of the hospital before he had finished signing the papers.)

But that's disorienting, and now he has to carry her away... somewhere. Still, he got a nice hospital bed to use, and it has hover technology, so that spares him pushing her anywhere.

He decides, for a lark, to take her to his TARDIS, go to one of his second favourite planets (he doesn't visit his favourite planets with the Doctor because the Doctor always destabilizes them) and perhaps set up a monarchy with her and see how long he can trick her into going along with it. It seemed plausible enough, and just crazy enough to work until the Doctor started messing everything up.

Date: 2010-02-07 08:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Well, it's worth a try anyway. It takes the Doctor a truly ridiculous amount of time to wake up, because sedatives and, in general, post-regeneration trauma. And she's still a little out of it when she gets around to the consciousness bit, so that's another in favour of his plan.

"Hello?" she says, ironically BEFORE she opens her eyes. She's very friendly! Or sommat.

Date: 2010-02-08 09:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Hello, Milady. I hope your rest treated you well?"

It is a maidservant, because the Master has better things to do than hang out beside unconscious Doctors. Also he doesn't want people to think he's Braxiatel or something. The point is, the Master is off being Masterly, and this room is pretty swank, and a maidservant intends on waiting on the Doctor's every needs, because the Doctor is the Princess Royale and the Heir Apparent to the Kingdom of Dewdrop, living in the Tower of Babel. It's a bit pretentious and a little ominous, but the Master figures you can't go wrong when you stick your best enemy in a castle named after Escher lithographs when she is experiencing post-regenerative trauma.

Date: 2010-02-10 08:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Though it is very difficult to be ominous in a kingdom called Dewdrop.

The Doctor is understandably puzzled by this new information, and asks the maidservant to confirm it several times. After a lot of embarrassment and awkwardness, she's eventually fitted into a dress in the style of the kingdom, and requests that she see whoever's currently in charge, if she's the Heir Apparent.

Date: 2010-02-15 02:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
It is spelled Dewdrop. It is pronounced, 'Oh no! That monster! That horror of horrors! I am losing my mind from the monstrosity of it all! OH ALIEN GEOMETRIES! OH INCOMPREHENSIBLE TERRORS! THIS ELDRITCH DEMON SHALL TWIST MY WEAK HUMAN MIND! AAAAAAAHHHH-ghhghhh-glug-ack.'


The point is, there is a mysterious, dark-haired, bearded gentleman in black velvet on the throne. He greets the Doctor as his daughter. He is very imperious and would strike terror into the hearts of all those who think to disobey him.

Or something similar.

Date: 2010-02-15 03:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Or, at least, he would if she didn't have to suppress the vague feeling that she'd seen him when he was tiny enough to fit in her pocket, literally. Or that he should have a beard.

Very strange.

"Hello?" she says, a little puzzled and tentative, two things that don't generally fit well on the Doctor.

Date: 2010-02-16 02:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
But the man on the throne does indeed have a beard. He said, "Welcome, daughter. Take a seat. Today is..." He pauses, then, and turns to the cloaked advisor on his left, "What day is it today?"

Not something that inspires faith in one's rulers, but at a whisper from the advisor, the king turns back to the woman who is apparently his daughter. And, indeed, there is something of a family resemblance there. Vaguely. "It is the day when our courts are opened to the commoners, that they may speak directly to their leaders."

The Master will not accept questions on why he has been using ruling policies from ancient Earth kingdoms.

Date: 2010-02-16 02:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Of course he does! Which is why she feels he should have a beard, and not because the narration failed at reading comprehension or anything.

"And that's... you, then?"

She has the feeling she wouldn't be very helpful regarding questions from commoners, whatever they may be. Unless they want scientific help!

Date: 2010-02-16 07:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Of course," says the King. "And yourself. So if you would be seated?"

To the credit of the Kingdom of Dewdrop, it is a very comfortable chair. Apparently, the ruling class is pretty big on cushions.

Date: 2010-02-16 08:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Oh, I don't think I'd be very good at... answering questions. At least, not about ruling. Unless it's a sort of royal advice column?"

Date: 2010-02-17 03:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The King's accent, which is solidly BBC, slips a bit into something a bit less regal before it regains itself. "A royal advice column??" And here is the recovery: "Perhaps not, but you are still needed. It is tradition."

The left-hand advisor leans over to whisper something, and the King corrects himself with, "It helps bring equality to the country."

Date: 2010-02-17 04:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"...Right," she says, and takes a seat in her cushy chair. At least it'll be comfortable for however long this lasts.


Then, casual as you please: "I do have a name, right?"

Date: 2010-02-25 05:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The King seems pleased at first, but her question confuses him and he frowns. "Of course you have a name."

Doesn't everyone?
Edited Date: 2010-02-25 05:25 pm (UTC)

Date: 2010-02-26 07:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"And it's....?"


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