capaciityforpain

[capaciityforpain]

She seems pleased by the idea of this little experiment, though he doesn't blame her if it's only for the sake of getting her ice cream back into working order. How could he, after all? A lost carton of ice cream is a terrible thing. Still, he does hope that she would enjoy the process, even if only a little. He's always been fond of showing off, and if he can do that in the process of returning her treat to her, then it will be all the better.

"Yeah," he answers, a glint in his eye, one that mirrors hers. Oh, this bond, this time together, may not reach past this place, this moment in time, but right now it's here, and that's enough. "Science. Real science, technology that does fantastic things." Which he supposes is all science, really, and that's a sentiment he'd fight for any day, but there's quite a fair amount of science that has to be put together to do what the TARDIS can do. He watches as she steps towards the box, almost proud. Well, no, he is proud. He's very proud of the old girl.

His eyebrows raise as she speaks, interested by the comment. An astrophysicist, stuck here in this place. He does wonder why that is, how that is, and he would like to find out. He intends to, but maybe not now. He may be blunt, may have a habit of dismissing the feelings of others, but there's something about this girl that interests him, and he doesn't want to send her running off. If nothing else, that would cut his visit to this place short, and it is so fascinating.

"You'll like this, then," he says, a small nod being given towards the box. "This is a space ship." And a time ship, of course, but they'll get to that. "Maybe later I'll show you around." He would like that, he thinks. He always has had a fondness for this, for showing off, presenting his world, his TARDIS. He likes the way they look at him, the way they smile. The light in their eyes, like the light in hers.

Then comes the question, and he steps into action, stepping closer, putting a hand on the surface of the TARDIS, an affectionate touch, appreciative. "I think...if we use this to make a small bubble around the carton...we might be able to use the bubble to send it back in time. Rewind the space around it."

The old man is odd – proper clean clothes in a dilapitaded place, a bit of a shaggy grey mop atop his head.

And then he’s beginning to perk into a smile. I can see what I can do.

“Oh yeah”, she inquires excitedly. Will she get some fresh vanilla ice cream? Who knows! But this entire situation is ticking at her curiosity -- Not magic. Not police, either. Science. Now her eyes sparkle and her body straightens. “Science?” she repeats, and the hope in her blue eyes could just about spill into an ocean. She stands, taking a few tentative steps toward the blue box. It’s both old and new, intricate with wood, and yet simple in its design.

“I used to study astrophysics”, she hums as she observes the box, “-- I was in my third year.” Her tone divulges nostalgia, a past lost. She’d fallen in love with space at a young age, her dream was to discover a new star, a new solar system, a black hole bigger than Phoenix A, mysterious planets. Sadly, death had taken her away before she could achieve anything substantial.

Carefully, her knuckles rasp on the side of the box three times – wood. Just plain, tinted wood. It really isn’t anything special, an old relic perhaps – but she’d seen it materialize, heard its grinding halt. She’s intrigued.

I'm sorry about your ice cream. But I might be able to help.

“How will you do that...?”

[capaciityforpain]

@fracturedechoes said: you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me.

↣ INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM

Was that true? If anyone had asked him, which they probably wouldn't, he would have said no. He would have said that he was looking at her a perfectly reasonable amount of time, but that wasn't really true, was it? He had been looking at her an awful lot, lately. Since they'd settled down here, really. Since they'd first run into each other. He knew, after all, that he wouldn't see her again. This night may last twenty-four years, but that didn't mean that he was going to waste it.

"No?" he asked, entirely casual, of course, an eyebrow raised lightly. "I must have been thinking."

[capaciityforpain]

He wanted to put together these pieces, partly because it was a puzzle, something to unravel, but it was also, mostly, because that puzzle was his friend, a man he knew so little about. Or maybe it was only a coincidence, a name picked from a list of casualties. Either way, he wanted to know him. Either way, this man died. He had met so many people like that, people fated to die, and it never quite got easier.

"The Doctor," he said, voice almost soft, though not quite. "It's nice to meet you."

A friend? Jack wondered if it was who he was thinking of. James Harper. This individual seemed to be just as mysterious as the captain and that only intrigued his curiosity more. Ever since Jack had watched James walk away in that bright light, he wondered if he'd ever see him again. Maybe this would be the key.

"I suppose you have the advantage then." he commented, giving a nod. "What's your name?"

[capaciityforpain]

15 ASSOCIATIONS ! repost and fill in the answers you most associate your character with to each question.

1. ANIMAL:   owl

2. COLOR(S):   blue, red, black

3. MONTH:  hm....october

4. SONG:  ummm....i dont know. something. guitar. ish.

5. NUMBER:  12 :)

6. DAY OR NIGHT:  night

7. PLANT:  like a. pricker. you know. thistle.

8. SMELL:   old books. old clothes

9. STONE:  something dense and solid. diamond. 

10.SEASON:   winter.

11. PLACE:   space.

12. FOOD:   sweets. snacks.

13. ASTROLOGICAL SIGN:   i dont know enough about them to answer this. edit. thanh thanh says virgo

14. ELEMENT(S):   fire. earth.

15. DRINK:  a diner milkshake.

tagged by: @deliriumang3l

tagging: you!!!

[capaciityforpain]

"Do you?" The question was probably a harsher than was necessary, especially when he was trying to be civil towards the other man, but he was pressing him, and the Doctor didn't like to be pressed. He did have friends. All across the cosmos, he had friends. He thought he did, anyway. Maybe Dylan was right. "I do. Sometimes they die, and sometimes they leave, but I do have friends."

"You stand here, you berate me, but what are you if not the same thing that you hate? You fawn over him, chasing him because of the way he shines. Don't scoff at me, don't roll your eyes. You're exactly the same as the people you're standing here looking down your nose at."

He understood the things that he offered, the grasp that he had. A man like Dylan, being offered everything? If he had been the same, he wasn't sure he could turn it down, either. "And what is it you want to do? Experiment? See how far you can push things?"

"Do you truly have friends, Doctor? You go on and on. Are people following you because they like you or because you only promise them the stars?" The question was asked flatly. "Because trust me, I know all about that promise. I know what it's like to see them. To touch them and at the same time? I would never take it back." "However, your companions die over and over again. You lose them. They walk away if they're lucky. I know what it's like. To run away," Dylan paused, "but I always come back. One way or another." "The Master," Dylan paused. "Holds me to a higher standard then most." It was an admission, but also one done in fact. "I'm allowed to do everything I want." He was about to say with-in reason, but he decided against it for the moment. He didn't need to reveal that. Least of all right now. "It's quite honestly not bad at all."

[capaciityforpain]

She looks at him so openly, with so much warmth, and something within his hearts tugs. He feels, he imagines, the way that humans feel when approached with a small animal, or a baby. Even if she looks at him, in turn, with that with which he has seen humans look at their gods, their saviors. He doesn't know if that's a good thing, but if it keeps her with him, then he doesn't suppose it could possibly be a bad thing, could it? Her faith in him is pleasant after Kaz's distrust, though the latter does not bother him, not really. It irritates, yes, and it annoys, but where the information is helpful, the rest is not, and it goes over him. If he wishes to provide more help, he will be listened to, but if he does not, then he will not be.

It's really quite simple, don't you think?

"Shh," he shushes her softly. "Thank you." He fights the urge to bring her hand to his lips. He wants her information, the same as he does Kaz's, but he doesnt want her to push herself. Whatever is in her blood, it won't do to get it to move any faster. The attempt to clear his name is appreciated, though. Maybe the Crow will listen to her. A man who sees such things between people might understand, but he does not. He is only concerned about her.

"Ice?" Or glass. He looks back to her, though the sound of the siren makes it all the more difficult to hear her, to understand. That may, though, explain the particles in her blood. Glowing, like, yes, particles of ice, or of glass. But the coincidence isn't lost on him. Where did it come from, and why did it break when he came? "Tell me all that you can."

But how can she? When the sirens blare, and the Crow yells? Squawks. He smiles to himself, just a little, a ghost of a shadow of a smile. He finds himself funny. "What plague spreads so quickly?" He appreciates the other man's comment, because it proves what he cannot know. This isn't a plague. Not yet, anyway. But what of her? What of her disease? Spread to her from this glass, but can it spread to others? Are they all doomed already? Later, he will take his glasses back out, and he will scan the others, but he does not believe they are sick. She has grown sick so quickly, and no one else shows the slightest symptom.

But, oh, the sirens seal the island? Or alarm people to the need to do so. His hand still grips Inej's, but his eyes are on Kaz. "It calls for the island to be sealed?" He nods. Yes, the TARDIS will help. "Yes, I think that's best. And I want you to send your man to whoever's in charge of the siren, or shutting the gates, and I want him to find out what's happening." He does not say it like a suggestion, but an order. He is in charge, now.

Hello.

Inej’s smile, though weak, fills with warmth. “Hello…”, she whispers back, and when the Doctor’s hand covers her burning one, she seems to calm further. When she tells him he came from the heavens on the back of a song, he tells her he did, and her eyes come alive with more vehemence.

It seems your friends think I made you sick. I'm very sorry if I did, but I'm going to help you.

“No… no you did not… could not…”, she croaks in a hurry, looking up at Kaz – he isn’t looking at her, just next to her, like he cannot handle seeing her this way. And he can’t... He wants to reach out to her so badly, to hold her hand the way the Doctor holds hers…. “It wasn’t… he did nothing wrong…”

“What happened’, Nina asks softly, her attention between Inej and this mysterious man Kaz and Jesper brought in.

“A box…”

“Yes, we have it –”

“No – not the holy box. It looked like… ice or glass....”

Kaz frowns. Like ice? Did he make a mistake? Did he pick up on the wrong thing?

“It shattered in my hands… and then – he arrived”, she finishes tenderly, softly.

But she says no more, for the sirens begins. Kaz is quiet a moment before he announces what they are. What do you mean plague siren? You have a plague siren, and you're blaming me?

“Yes”, Kaz snaps back harshly, gaze blazing. A bead of sweat has formed on his brow. Uncertainty doesn't suit him. “They haven’t been used in a decade, not since the firepox outbreak. And they haven’t rung until you arrived.”

“I haven’t seen anyone else getting ill”, the man with the pistols comments carefully. He shares a glance to the others who also shake their head.

“Then someone’s purposely sealing off the island”, Kaz concludes aloud -- Why? Perhaps Kaz is not the only one who is looking for this Doctor. He would have done it himself to keep the Doctor trapped just as well if it meant he reverses what’s afflicting Inej. Reluctantly, he adds: "I'll take you to your box." He wants to know what's so special about it -- and if it did, indeed, cause Inej's illness or not....

[capaciityforpain]

MEMORIES become S T O R I E S when we forget them. Maybe some become SONGS

[capaciityforpain]

Maybe that was one of the only comforts he had when it came to the Master, that he was sure that no matter how terrible, how cruel, there was a line that he would not cross. Not for the sake of anyone, of course, but because despite his arrogance, the fighting, the killing, they both knew that the point of the game was not to win, but to be played. But how far would be bend the rules? To the death of all, excluding them? Them and one solitary soul to fight over? One planet to be forced into the role of pawn for the squabbling of gods?

Perhaps this was not such a comfort after all.

"Compassion," he insisted. He knew that humans could be selfish, knew they could be cruel, but that didn't mean that they deserved cruelty. No one deserved cruelty. "I will not treat people with cruelty just because they may choose to do the same. I would rather be kind and have it wasted than to be cruel to someone who doesn't deserve it." He would always rather be taken advantage of for his cruelty. He knew he would be taken advantage of, and he would be very cross, but it would be better than being cruel to someone who was only a person, who was only kind, or was even only average. Most people were only people, average people, and they didn't deserve cruelty.

"So what will you do when they revolt? Slaughter them? Make a show of blood on the streets? That will only make them fear you more. They will destroy you." Maybe he was getting more frustrated, more aggressive than necessary, but he didn't like the Master's ideas. They frightened him. But he had seen the revolts before, had been a part of them. He had seen the things they did to people, and he didn't want to see that happen on account of the Master. Not again.

But that was a good question. Why was he so fascinated by these little creatures? These insects? There were millions of races, an endless amount of individuals, so why did humans inspire him so? They were beautiful, wonderful little things. They always fought, they always aspired, imagined, and tried. That was a staple of conscious life, of course, but there was something remarkable about humanity.

"I love them for everything you hate. Their flaws, their struggles, and their love. They can be cruel, I know. They destroy each other for nothing, and they are violent and terrible, but they are beautiful. They tell stories, and they laugh, and they try. They always try. It's not the fault of the rest of them that the ones in charge are loudest."

The Master truly had no one that truly gave him the satisfication of a argument then the Doctor, if they ended their centuries old arguments then what was the point of them? sure, he can win but it wouldn't be satisfiying to him to not fully beat the Doctor and show him that his way is the correct way.

Perhaps if there was a another way, a another choice of if the Master stayed and didn't go with the rest of the war council so many years ago, he would of traveled with the Doctor, but where would that lead them? The Master would always end up leaving him in the end if that was the case.

"Compassion doctor?? Humans will end up using that kindness against you if they determine if they can for their own selfish gain" He admits, he had seen first hand working in human politics about how willing they were to jump ship from one leader to the next as the other becomes popular. He also knew how compassionate people can be taken advantage of, perhaps a long time ago, he was one of those people. But he wasn't anymore, haven't been for ages sense renaming himself the Master.

"I'm aware they will revolt, I read the History books, I experienced it- sort of" The Master trailed on, briefly remembering how he was defeated on that one year rule of earth so many years ago. it was short like arevolt albeit in the non traditonal sense.

"Why do you care about these little humans regardless though Doctor? You always had a fascination with them. acting as their Doctor, their protector. What makes these humans so distinct from other species that you would willing to keep defending them? They haven't evolved to be as smart as we are, they can't regenerate, they don't live long life spans. The Master question.

It was a question that was burning in the back of his mind for years, about why he would enjoy being around such a species that can be so easily controlled. turning their arguement onto the question he had, that he had to ask.

"What makes them so important to you my dear doctor?"

[capaciityforpain]

The feeling of the rough edge of the cracker against his nose was not quite as irritating as it was simply surprising. He'd lived many lives, been on many adventures, but he could say with certainty that he did not think anyone had ever hit him with a cracker. Well, if there was anyone to do that, to be that first, it would be her.

His eyebrows rose, though he did take the cracker, using it as his own gesturing tool. "I've never known a saltine to be the cure for boredom," he said, and then he took a bite of it. Swallowed. "But if you're looking for something to do, we can arrange that."

She reached across the small table and tapped him on the nose with the edge of one of the saltine crackers she'd been munching the last half an hour - tasted of absolutely nothing but the crunch satisfied something in her.

"Not sick just bored," she explained, now offering him the cracker, "but the kind of bored where nothing interests me."

@capaciityforpain

[capaciityforpain]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 & 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄

bold what always applies. italize what sometimes applies. crossout what never applies.

ᴇʏᴇꜱ. avoids eye contact when nervous, maintains eye contact when agitated, avoids eye contact due to being neurodivergent, enjoys eye contact as a means to read and convey emotion, looks down when emotional, looks up when emotional, cries openly, wipes tears quickly, suppresses tears, wandering gaze when lost in thought, holds gaze while thinking, seeks out eye contact for reassurance, seeks out eye contact to gauge enthusiasm during conversations, eyes constantly move during conversation, expressive eyes, emotions only evident through eyes, uses eye contact to intimidate, looks up while thinking, looks down while thinking.

ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ. clasps behind back, rest in lap, fidgets with clothes, twiddles thumbs, chews at nails, pushes back cuticles, draws patterns on table/counter surfaces, makes animated gestures while speaking, only gestures to emphasize, utilizes sign language, speaks only through sign, callouses, scars, smooth, wrinkled, worn, soft, delicate, bone-y, slender, thick, vein-y, touches others while speaking, reaches out while laughing, reaches out to comfort others, reaches out to seek comfort, places face in hands when exasperated, places palms over eyes to hide when overwhelmed, rests chin in hands, taps fingers when impatient, taps fingers when nervous, taps fingers while thinking, scratches scalp,  strokes chin, rubs back of head, toys with objects around them, runs fingers over surfaces while walking by.

ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. chews lip, chews at inside of cheek, licks lips, bites tongue, chews on straws,  resting frown, resting smile, neutral resting expression, resting pout, grinds teeth, flexes jaw, covers mouth when laughing, covers mouth when shocked, covers mouth when concerned, hands to lips while thinking, covers mouth when chewing, chews with mouth closed, chews with mouth open, smirks, grins, subtle smiles, wide smiles, sad smiles, intimidating smiles, menacing grins, openly smiles, tries to suppress smiles, bares teeth when angry, lips quiver when emotional, stutters, speaks quickly, speaks slowly, good pronunciation, poor pronunciation, moderate pronunciation, purses lips, sucks in lips, holds mouth open when shocked or confused.

ʟᴇɢꜱ. bounces leg when nervous, draws knees to chest when sitting, draws knees to chest as a means of comfort, sits on knees, sits with legs criss-crossed, sits with legs spread open in chairs, crosses legs when sitting in chairs, sits with one leg folded under the other, places feet on furniture, never places feet on furniture, sits on counters, sits on desks, sits on tables, sits on edge of seat, sits hunched over with forearms on knees, arches one knee up, sits on the arm of chairs/couches, feet on dashboard, swings legs back and forth when sitting somewhere elevated,  wiggles toes when nervous,  wiggles toes as a general tick, shuffles feet, kicks foot into ground, stomps feet, loud footsteps, quiet footsteps, silent footsteps.

ʜᴀɪʀ. runs fingers through hair, tugs at hair, picks at scalp, chews on hair, twists locks of hair while thinking or nervous, smooths out locks of hair while thinking or nervous, prefers hair out of face, prefers long hair, prefers short hair, wears hair back, keeps hair down, smooths back hair, plays with other’s hair while talking, plays with own hair while talking, strokes hair to comfort others, likes having hair stroked for their own comfort, braids others’ hair while talking, braids own hair while talking, flips hair out of face, pushes hair out of face, leaves hair alone even when falling into face.

tagged by: @deliriumang3l

tagging: you!!!

[capaciityforpain]

The Doctor no longer pays any attention to the Crow, as he's come to think of Kaz, for many reasons, one being that he never got the chance to learn his name, another being that he doesn't really care what it is. He would call him what he wants to anyway, especially if he's so adamant on either punishing or using the Doctor that he doesn't take the time to introduce himself. Rude, if you ask him, but no one does. They never do. But right now, that doesn't matter. All that matters is the girl. He hears the others talk, hears Kaz order the woman, but he doesn't really may attention to it. At this point, he assumes that he will be answered, because that's how this works. He is always answered. Things are always much easier when he's answered.

He doesn't pay attention to the other girl's glare, or her name. She will be the Woman, Inej will remain the Girl, and Kaz, as ever, the Crow. He's too busy to remember names. He has a life to save, and a mystery to solve. He doesn't understand how he could have made her sick by doing nothing more than landing the TARDIS. It still could be some oversight, some glitch in the filter that protects from this sort of thing, but that doesn't make sense. All she did was see him. How could that have done this so quickly? Even the most brutal infections take time to develop.

That only matters for a moment, though, before Inej opens her eyes. She thinks he's a Saint. Perhaps that explains why she looks at him so...differently. But he's not a Saint. He's a Doctor. Possibly her killer. There's something very wrong inside of her, if the scans are anything to go by. This doesn't bode well. Little intruders fill her bloodstream, very strange little things.

He takes the glasses off, putting them back into his inner pocket. He'll use them again later, but first he wants to really take a look at her on the outside. Her skin burns, but he doesn't pull away. In fact, he moves his other hand to cover hers. "Hello," he says, almost softly. "I did. It seems your friends think I made you sick. I'm very sorry if I did, but I'm going to help you." Empty comfort isn't his style, nor is any kind of beside manner, but something about her, the way she touches him, the way she looks at him, inspires gentleness in the old man.

The gentleness only lasts, though, until the cry of the siren starts. First his eyes raise skyward in an automatic response, and then to Kaz as he speaks, as he announces, so casually, that the sound that tears through the air is a plague siren. A plague siren! "What do you mean plague siren? You have a plague siren, and you're blaming me?"

The girl on the cot's skin glimmers with sweat, her lips chapped – Kaz notes a bead of blood on her bottom lip where it split and his teeth clench hard enough his entire skull begins aching. The others speak in hushed tones, but he wishes they would scream so she would remain awake – he wants to scream, he certainly wants to. His earlier disposition has changed: confidence ebbed away for a young man on the cusp of madness. Looking at Inej this way hurts more than a bullet wound.

The Doctor puts on a pair of dark glasses, harboring a sudden silence from the crew around the girl. They stare, wondering why a blind man’s apparel would help in any way. But when he speaks, when he says Tell me everything, they seem to come alive again.

“I’m sorry”, the woman across the cot questions, “who is this?”

“Give him what he wants”, Kaz orders sharply.

Her glare is poignant for a moment, then she softens, giving the Doctor a once over. “I’m Nina”, she says, “and this is – Inej. She came home talking about a magical box and someone who walked from it... She was convinced it was a Saint. She returned, said those few words before the fever rushed in and she dropped. I tried to help her but her heart won’t respond to me no matter what I – ”

“It’s... you....”, Inej stirs on the cot, her eyes watery, half lidded, settling onto the old man. Unlike the perplexed look of her companions, she instead returns affection, care, gentleness, and reverence. Her hand reaches with clear exhaustion, flopping until it lands on the Doctor’s hand. Her touch is hot, clammy, burning. “... you came... from the heavens...”, she murmurs, half delirious – from the glasses, blue specks run about the highways of her veins like tiny glowing fish; they gather in her heart, in her lungs, in her mouth, her in brain, dim and extinguish, rinse and repeat, and although beautiful, her bloodstream should not host such little creatures. “You came... with a song... --”

Her eyes flutter shut once more just as a siren erupts around them from the outside – loud, incessant. Almost at once, a cacophony of boots and feet trample upstairs, followed by shouts and screams. Kaz looks up at the ceiling, his features impassive as he announces: “Plague sirens...”

[capaciityforpain]

DOCTOR WHO — The Girl Who Died (S09E05) directed by Ed Bazalgette | written by Jamie Mathieson & Steven Moffat ››› Peter Capaldi as The Doctor

[capaciityforpain]

DOCTOR WHO | The Husbands of River Song

[capaciityforpain]

He, too, knew how endless this was. Of course he did. They'd been at it for centuries, and there was no sign of an end. He was exhausted. He wanted to lie this down, wanted to let it go, but he couldn't. If he stopped, if he gave up, then the Master would win, and he couldn't allow that. He couldn't go unchecked. They fought each other endlessly, but what would either of them do without the other? The Master would likely get exactly what he wanted, and that wasn't acceptable. If the Doctor let go, there would be nothing to save, and there would be nothing for the Master to fight. If the Master let go, where would the Doctor go? There were the Daleks, the Cybermen, but the Doctor without the Master? Could such a thing exist? He didn't know. So they fought, always arguing.

That didn't mean, though, that he didn't truly wish they could have been friends again. He would have certainly traded anything for his friend back. That was why he was trying so hard with Missy. It wasn't about redemption, at least not beneath the surface. More than anything, he just wanted his friend back. Maybe that was why he kept doing this, kept having this argument, because it was the only time they talked, the only time they weren't battling for the upper hand. It wasn't a conversation, but it was as close as they got anymore.

"Yes! Compassion! People need kindness, not cruelty. If people are given what they need, they won't have any reason to fight!" It was a hard thing to believe, given all he'd seen, all he'd been forced to do, but he still believed, at the end of the day, that people were capable of good. That life was, at its base, good. "People fight because they're scared. If no one was scared, if no one needed food, or shelter, if everyone was taken care of, there would be no need to fight." But maybe he was right. The Gallifreyans had had everything they needed, and still they reached outwards to conquer the stars. But not everyone was like the Gallifreyans, and even they could have been good. He had to believe that.

He did understand his point. That was the worst part of it, that he did. It was not easy to believe in good. He knew that if left to their own devices, they may still find a way to kill each other for the fun of it, and it killed him. It disgusted him. But what could he do? Give up? Become as careless as the Master? As power hungry as the Gallifreyans? He was so like them, he knew, but he chose not to be. Every day, he chose not to be. Humans were cruel, and terrible, and they were disgusting, and he knew that, but he would save them anyway, because he was the Doctor.

"No. I don't agree. Yes, they're corruptible, but dictatorship is not the answer. Not if they're not taken care of. Not everyone is the monster you seem to think they are. You try to master them, they will revolt. They always do."

The Master recongized that this conversation would be a endless debate one that him and the Doctor will continue fighting with as long as this regeneration was alive. A battle with their voice, their words, the Master could never kill the Doctor, he always said he could, but he knew that he couldn't that would be boring with out his equal. these conversations as frustrating as they were to him. Meant to him that there was still some one enough in the universe to argue with him in a equal footing.

Perhaps if he traveled with the Doctor all those years ago instead of being sent back to Gallifrey, they would be arguing in more of a friendly banter instead of one full of opposing ideals. But the present was here now, in his mind there was no point for the wishful daydreaming .

Now, he never wanted to be apart of the Doctor team, learning that Missy had become friends with him again, well- the closest that the Master could ever be friends with the Doctor felt off to him. To be kept, to go cold turkey from his ideals? That sounded like hell. But he enjoyed this banter, expecting to hear the answer of 'why not?', He didn't reply to that, no point in expressing any sentiments that was better left unspoken.

"Guidance Doctor?? Compassion is your answer??" The Master uttered back to him. "To stand back, to give advice as needed, but yet do not involve yourself, allow them to have free will? Much like the Time lords did back in the age of old with the fragment of the universe's time lines?? Look at what happen with our own species doctor!" The Master tried arguing.

The Master felt frustrated that the Doctor was not getting the point he was trying to make. The point he been trying to show the Doctor all of these times. He understood that humans unlike him and the Doctor were children compared to them, they wasn't advance in knowledge like him and the Doctor were. Still the fact that Doctor still cared for them deeply bothered him, he didn't see the point in caring for those type of species, though he seen first hand how cruel humanity can be, he still regarded them the most cruelest species of them all.

Though, he continued his argument, speaking up. "Humans are far more corruptible due to there nature, one of the humans will get greedy from your kindness and ruin it all. War and conflict will start up again. With Mastery over them it will prevent that. no more unchecked Chaos. Certainly you would agree in that regard no?"

[capaciityforpain]

The man, the crow, he's trying to save his friend, and the Doctor is trying to save an innocent. They both want the same thing, though for different reasons. The man wants to save his friend, and the Doctor wants to fix this. He wants to save her, too, but he really wants to fix this. If it's because of him, because of his TARDIS, then the only answer is that he needs to fix it. What kind of Doctor makes someone sick and then can't fix it? No, this isn't right. There's a man pointing a gun at him, and he's just angry with himself.

He looks back to the younger man, the boy, and he tries very hard not to snap at him. The look he does give is not very amused, because he really doesn't feel like it's the time. How many times has he had someone defending their ability to point a gun at him? Frustrated men who can't stand the idea that their ability to point a weapon was possibly brought into question.

"You don't need insurance," he tells them both. "I'm not going to run. I want this solved as much as you do."

Oh, no, they don't have his ship, just his box. Okay. Best not to expand on that, then, best not to give them any more ideas. He does wonder, idly, why this man's voice rasps so terribly. He's too young to have so much damage. Illness, perhaps, or a natural rasp. Well, that doesn't really matter. He's more worried about the TARDIS, and he's worried about the girl. Yes, he'll admit it, he's worried about her. He can fix her, and he will, but he worries. "And the same goes for threats. You know, you'd be surprised what you can accomplish if you just ask someone to do something politely."

They pass under a sign. Oh, would you look at that? A crow. Not surprising, given the man's cane, but it seems he's made it into something of an identity. Yes, he can understand why. Crow, though. Not raven. That's interesting. Most people, he thinks, would go for the raven. He thinks he understands something, here. He thinks he's just learned everything he could possibly need to know about his friend here.

That has to wait, though, because here is the patient.

He hears the others more than he's listening, because he is looking at her intently. The title of Doctor does not mean medicine, but it is something he knows. He knows everything. He is the helper, the healer, and he will do both. He only registers the words of the woman at his patient's side, and of the boy with the gun, and that was only because they gave information. A persistent fever, and a sudden collapse.

He doesn't speak as he steps forward, crouching by her side. He reaches into a jacket pocket to remove a pair of sunglasses--terribly inconvenient for a basement, but far nicer than a screwdriver. He puts them on, and he looks her over, the inner sides of the lenses filling with information. "Tell me everything." Said to everyone, to whoever has information to share.

Kaz’s expression is gruff, tense. He doesn’t like not knowing – not understanding. He loves a mystery, but not a mystery that could take Inej… from him. He still sees her collapse like a sack of bones, her eyes rolling back in her head – the sudden panic he’d felt, and yet he’d remained completely still, wide eyed while Nina caught her. He couldn’t even do that much for her…

Tell that to your friend.

“Hey hey”, the lanky boy at the back, “believe it or not I’m not trigger happy – I’m better than that” He seemed insulted by the idea he would trigger a bullet by mistake.

“Insurance”, Kaz rasps back.

So, where’ve you taken her? My ship?

“I don’t have your ship”, Kaz responds, his eyes riveted before him. His leg hurts terribly, like Inej’s fall from grace was punishment to grate her limb. “Just your box. We’ll get to that.” He leads them down alleys until the sign of a crow comes into view, black like a shadow and hovering above the club’s door. Inside, game tables are filled with people laughing, shouting with glee, some grunting over their loss. Kaz pays them no attention, even as someone makes at attempt at approaching him, crossing the floor all the way to a backdoor leading down a set of stairs.

When they arrive, Kaz lifts his nose in the air and marches to a young woman with bronze skin laying on a bed, soaked with fever. Her lips shiver and Kaz inhales sharply. She looks worse – pieces of dark hair curled upon her brow. Another young woman with brown hair and deep eyes holds her clammy hand.

“How is she”, he hears himself ask, his voice distant to his ears.

“Not good…”, the woman says, “— I managed to bring the fever down, but it keeps going up after a while.” A tall, blond man steps next to her, rubbing her back, then peers a look at the old man curiously.

The man who’d held the gun at the Doctor’s back flips the weapon and rams it back into its holster. “She just… fell…”, he tells the Doctor softly, worried, and sighs. “Can you help her?”

Kaz’s sharp gaze remains on the Doctor instead of Inej, hardly able to look at her much longer. Fix it, he barks in his head, fix it! Fix her!

[capaciityforpain]

aura color.

Wine

plums, nail polish, planners, theaters, pursed lips, mosaics, sewing thread. your essence is wine: you are ruled by determination to bring your grand vision to life. you are a pillar of your chosen family; reliable and moral, there is never a situation for which you are not prepared. you are an idealist and accept nothing less of yourself. you are the activist. you are the dutiful. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of amaranth, pearl, grey, and pink, who share your need to devote to a cause. you are also drawn to the expressive orchid and mauve, who will help you grow and learn it is okay to not live up to expectation. however, you may struggle to get along with the excessive personalities of jade and fire who do not know what they truly want.

tagged by: @deliriumang3l tagging: you!!!

[capaciityforpain]

That was the problem, wasn't it? Hadn't it always been? The fact that they were as close to equals as either of them had. Through centuries and lifetimes, they always came back to each other, and they always would. Enemies would come and go for each of them, but they would always have each other. It should have ended a long time ago with the death of one, if not both, but the Doctor didn't think either of them would ever truly commit to killing the other. Not permanently, anyway. Neither could be stopped, and neither would ever be willing to stop. It might be best for everyone if they finally killed each other, but the Doctor didn't plan on killing or being killed. No, this would continue until the last star burned out, of that, he was certain.

He only wished they could do it as friends. Oh, they could be fantastic, if only they could be friends instead of enemies. If they could travel as companions instead of fight as enemies.

"Why not?" He knew why. He knew, because he was the Master, fighting the Doctor, and they had forgotten how to be friends so long ago. How would they survive if they couldn't fight? Well, he had always hoped. Wonderfully, the way they once had. Only, he knew that was only a dream. Even with Missy, as hard as he tried, he felt, somewhere deep in his hearts, that it was only a matter of time before he lost her. And he would miss her terribly. Some part of him already did.

He still wanted him to see the universe, and he wanted to see it with him. With her. And they did, but at the end of the day, he had to return her to her Vault, and he had to lock the door behind him. He hated it. So why did he? Maybe because he was afraid that if he left the door unlocked, she would be gone, and it would mean that everything they'd done had been for nothing. Yes, that was it, of course.

"So that's your answer to war? Domination? Yes, people are stupid, and they kill each other for stupid reasons, but the answer isn't to take away their ability to make mistakes. They're children! They need guidance, not dictatorship! They are not animals to be herded. They are driven to fight by the cruelty of people like you. If they were taken care of, if everyone had their needs met--with compassion, not cruelty--there wouldn't be any need for war. "

The Master couldn't help but to grin slightly at the Doctor expected response, he knew that the Doctor wouldn't. Humanity and the species of any galaxy was important to the Doctor, he knew that. It was predictable, this verbal tug of war, the war of constant violent communication. It what he did best. Arguing with some one, he almost considered his equal, some one he enjoyed talking to even if he disagreed with almost everything that the Doctor stood for.

listening to the Doctor words, he always listened even in moments he acted like he wasn't. He couldn't help but to listen to him, there was always a possibility of good, he knew that. He wasn't foolish enough to not recognize the 'good' that Missy was showing. He was certain that Missy was acting on her free will, he was confident that the Doctor couldn't force her to do anything, and that what bothered him.

To see a future where he was better. It was slightly terrifying to him, but it was a fear he wouldn't dare admit out loud, not to the Doctor, not to Missy , not to anyone.

"The good you see in her, won't last Doctor, it never will" he reminds. It was a cursed fact that he knew, any time they died and came back, they knew that they will cause suffering, to cause death, and control over the Universe, just to be stopped.

It almost felt sentimental to hear the Doctor tell him the Universe was beautiful, he remembered when he was dying, the doctor so many years ago with the more youthful face, told him that he didn't need to own the universe, just see it. That would be ownership enough. Back then, apart of him agreed but now? He has seen what it liked to have control again. Control over his life, over people, over decisons with out Gallifrey controlling him again.

"oh but it does, my dear Doctor! Haven't I already proved that to you time and time again? How many wars not just on earth, but on other planets is caused by mistakes? by uncontrolled chaos. Do you not remember the tocflane? How I showed when given the chance your precious humans will result to violence and ungovernable with out a Master there." The Master argued. "The universe will always need me in one way or another, it be a lot easier if you just come to accept that."