syncopath: (lizard)
[Voice]

Thithh--

Thhh---

[garbled muttering as he tries unsuccessfully to curse in Gallifreyan]

[Text]
This is what I get, I suppose, for claiming this place to be boring. I

iiiiiii a #$%$[/$?^?//,/.0 4g//j////////////////////////////../////////////////////////////////////////////////////

/

h. hungry yy /
/[

[[ooc: mr. master is now mr. monitor! he has a forked tongue, so he can't speak too well. also black eyes, and unfortunately maybe a little bit of LIZARD BRAIN (but srsly who can tell the difference)]]
syncopath: (angst)
[a few seconds of shallow, pained breathing]

This place...

It must be so beautiful from above. Glorious. But down here...

I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

[breathed with a strange mixture of sorrow and anger] Doctor. This is all your fucking fault.
syncopath: (tired)
[Despite the not-so-distant-anymore crashing and thumping, his voice seems calm, almost conversational-- if a little out-of-breath.]

Hello, Discedo.

Perhaps it's time to revisit that little poll.

[he shifts, making a wordless sound of discomfort]

How many of you are willing to stay here, again?
syncopath: (comfortable)
Oh.

Oh dear.

There is absolutely no way I am going out in something like tha--

[sound of glass breaking, and a resigned sigh]

chimeras are always such a terrible idea

[a yelp, and several thuds and crashes before the communicator cuts out]
syncopath: (drums)
[audible noise-- a click, or the echoes of a loud crash-- as the communicator switches on. Perhaps it has been thrown?]

[several loud thuds, as if someone is pounding his fist on a table. This goes on for several seconds before there is sudden silence, punctuated by what sounds suspiciously like a sob, or a whimper, and then a smaller, but heavier, thud]

[another short pause, and then the sound of someone tapping against that table incessantly. Sort of a taptaptapTAP, taptaptapTAP, it sounds like. Honestly? It could go on forever.]
syncopath: (tired)
[smaller text is unintentional]

No. No, I won. This isn't fair.

Lucy?

[small pause, then a tiny clearing of the throat]

[tone is congenial, with a slight hint of bordering on intolerance, why do i feel like i'm forecasting weather here]

Greetings. I am Professor Saxon. I can only assume that whoever has deposited me in this hellhole... quaint little place is paying attention. It would no doubt please you to know that you have me at an extreme disadvantage- that is to say, you've got all the answers while I'm riddling out scraps of poetry and saddled with a sadistically primitive bit of communications technology. I gather that you are also responsible for the headache.

[softly menacing] You are making a mistake.

[aaaaand back to congenial] Rest assured, however, that this is nothing that can't be rectified by a little pooling of knowledge. I would like to know why and how I came to be here. I gather from the lack of intelligent life environmental conditions that you, in turn, could use a certain amount of qualified assistance. It is therefore of the utmost importance that we speak. I am sure that we can come to an equitable and mutually favorable agreement.

Let us help each other.
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