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syncopathHe had no way of knowing how long he had been in the dark; it was a funny thing, perhaps, but even a Time Lord must concede (as much as it might personally gall him) that death is timeless by its very nature. Still, he remembered everything.
When he awoke, groggily, the first thing he did was clap a hand to his neck, expecting a mark or a hole where the persistent memory of pain told him it should be. There was nothing. A ghost feeling. He blinked twice and sat up.
The room was dim, dusty and unused, and the small sink in the corner rattled ominously before spitting out water of some unsavory color, but there was comfort, egregiously tiny as it may be, in washing up as best he could. He surveyed his surroundings again. Besides the mattress he'd woken up on (and who had placed him there?) the room boasted nothing else.
He knew when he was, but not where. Or why. Not for the first time, he wondered if it might not be a prison.
The Master took panicked strides toward the door, fully expecting it not to open when he yanked on the handle roughly, and almost falling backwards when he was proven wrong.
A maze of hallways spread itself before him, each equally dim and dusty as the room behind. As the Master began to walk, it became obvious what he'd somehow known from the moment he opened the door. It wasn't a prison.
It was a ruin.
When he awoke, groggily, the first thing he did was clap a hand to his neck, expecting a mark or a hole where the persistent memory of pain told him it should be. There was nothing. A ghost feeling. He blinked twice and sat up.
The room was dim, dusty and unused, and the small sink in the corner rattled ominously before spitting out water of some unsavory color, but there was comfort, egregiously tiny as it may be, in washing up as best he could. He surveyed his surroundings again. Besides the mattress he'd woken up on (and who had placed him there?) the room boasted nothing else.
He knew when he was, but not where. Or why. Not for the first time, he wondered if it might not be a prison.
The Master took panicked strides toward the door, fully expecting it not to open when he yanked on the handle roughly, and almost falling backwards when he was proven wrong.
A maze of hallways spread itself before him, each equally dim and dusty as the room behind. As the Master began to walk, it became obvious what he'd somehow known from the moment he opened the door. It wasn't a prison.
It was a ruin.
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Date: 2009-10-24 02:10 am (UTC)Her certainty was clear in her voice. He wouldn't be with her in the first place if he didn't need her on some level.
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Date: 2009-10-24 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-24 02:24 am (UTC)The Doctor...
She'd think about him later, she decided, closing her eyes.
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Date: 2009-10-24 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-24 03:22 am (UTC)Rose made a small sound as he touched her. She was already drifting into sleep, exhausted by everything that had happened in only the past couple hours.
"Love you," she whispered, very softly, half asleep.
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Date: 2009-10-24 03:57 am (UTC)"What did you say?" he whispered, although he was sure of what he'd heard, felt. The words stung him, paradoxically. It should have pleased him that he had gotten this far, wormed his way inside. Instead he felt smaller than before, and the song of the Vortex raged in his head.
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Date: 2009-10-24 04:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-24 06:23 am (UTC)And so instead he found himself sitting in the growing dark, listening to the patter of the rain, the echoing noises inside, the rhythm of her breathing, his eyes closed. After a while, uninhibited by the notion of anyone witnessing it, he allowed tears to silently leak down his face.
((ooc: shall we leave it there for now?))
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Date: 2009-10-24 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-24 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-24 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-25 04:19 am (UTC)