hh_mirror | Open RP - The Master returns

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Open RP - The Master returns

((with the approval of the other Who muns))

He was...

He was in a slick heap on the floor, the smell of butter the first thing he consciously aware of. The smell. It was impossibly silent, an undreamed-of silence.

The Master, looking distinctly unmasterful in ragged, butter-drenched clothes, dragged himself from the room, pulling himself upright on the doorframe.

Silent, but for his breathing, and the butter dripping from him to the floor. His mouth felt greasy, and he spat to clear it. If only he could do the same to his mind! It was too quiet to think. He staggered into the hall.

He was...

He was alive. And that was all the starting point he'd ever needed.

The Master's laughter echoed down the stony corridor, echoing, folding in on itself. He was alive.

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That was a good question. The Master felt far better than he had in his most recent memories. But his head was ringing from the haunting quiet.

"I'm a bit greasy," he said with the self-deprecating smile that had served him so well.

Rory nodded. "You are a bit. I think there are bathrooms near here." Unless they've moved... "First things first, though, do you remember where you are?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, looking mournful.

Odd question to ask someone you'd just met. The reason behind it must be fascinating, and hopefully wouldn't be too hard to turn to his advantage.

"...okay." Rory took a deep breath. "This is probably going to sound weird. Really, incredibly weird. You're at a magic school called Hogwarts, in -" He paused, catching himself. Just because someone looks human... "The country we're in is called Scotland and the planet it's on is called Earth, and the reason I don't know if that means anything to you is that this is - it's sort of a link between worlds. People come here from different planets, or times, or completely different universes. And if you've come through the Popcorn Room it means you've been here once before, but you might not remember. I've heard lots of people don't."

Oh, now, this was delightful. What a useful person he'd found.

"Different times? How confusing. I suppose I might even be from one, at that. What year is it here, then?"

"2010. What year do you - remember it being?" Rory asked, frowning slightly - now that he'd had time to look past the butter and the unnerving laugh, something about this man was familiar. There were two thousand years worth of faces in his memory, though. He couldn't quite place it yet.

"2010... that sounds about right." The confusion in his voice was largely feigned. He knew where he was and when he was. He knew he was in a nexus of some sort, a place with intriguing possibilities.

"Right, and - I'm sorry, I haven't asked your name. I'm Rory." And he was still drawing a blank, but he should know... could he be trying to remember something that hadn't happened, any more?

"Carl Norman." Not a particularly elegant alias, but it would do for now.

It didn't ring a bell. "Carl, okay..." He was about to automatically say 'nice to meet you', but ...stopped himself.

"When you say 'sounds about right', does that mean - d'you know where you were before?"

"I..." he flinched, stepping back and raising his hands to his head as if that could ward off the staticy silence within. "It's not important."

Okay, bad question to ask. He should've guessed, with the laughter and everything. Rory stepped away, holding his hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry, none of my business, right? It's okay, anyway, you're here, so let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

"Thank you, that's very helpful." He drew on his hypnotic expertise, laying down the subliminal suggestion that Rory wanted to be helpful, that it would be incredibly personally rewarding to make him as happy as possible.

Rory being Rory, this wasn't a hard suggestion to plant. His brow furrowed a little - something felt odd - but that was just the memory thing, right? He'd worry about that later, right now he had more important things to do. "The bathroom's this way. There is a cleaning spell but I'm not sure I've got the hang of it yet, so you might not want me pointing my wand at you. Speaking of which, you'll need to get your own wand - I can show you where after - and work out what house you're in..."

Now that was a gratifying reaction. Not as spectacular as remaking an entire world in his image, but it was always good to savor the little pleasures.

"Oh, do tell me more about wands," he said, with only a trace of mesmeric reinforcement. It didn't seem like Rory would need much encouragement to talk.

"Course." Rory drew his own wand, holding it for Carl to see. "This is mine. It's made of oak, with a phoenix feather core - they're all different, but you get the idea. Some people apparently turn up with enough money on them to go and buy their own, but normally you have to go to the Ancient Runes classroom for a second-hand one. You'll know when you get one that fits you without having to know any spells or anything. It just - feels right, when you pick it up. Mine sent out sparks." He put it away again, carefully. "And you'll need one if you're going to learn any magic here."

"Feels right, you say?" It could be a matter of superstition, of course, humans were as full of that as any primitive race. "Fascinating. Could be some manner of psychic feedback circuit."

Rory laughed, surprised. "Could be. I'm not the one you'd want to ask about that."

"Oh, don't mind me, just thinking out loud." The Master's tone was reassuring, but his grin was roguish. "And with these wands, you cast spells, is that right?"

"Yeah." He looked around to see whether there was something convenient to levitate. That seemed like a good demonstration, but he couldn't find anything obvious. "I don't think there's been an actual class held since I got here, but I know a few things. I could show you."

"Oh, would you?" It was so much fun sometimes, letting these creatures think they were in the one-up position. String them out a bit and they spill the most astonishing things.

"No problem." Rory smiled, opening a nearby door. "But I think we - yeah, the baths are through here. If you want to go get cleaned up, and I'll find a house elf to take care of your clothes - did I mention them?"

"Not yet," he answered cheerfully. "But you're going to tell me everything you know about them, aren't you?"

"Of course." ...obviously. Why wouldn't he? "The house elves do all the housework and castle maintenance and apparently more or less anything you ask for, within reason, or unless the Sorting Hat wouldn't like it. You never see them unless you need them for something, but they're always around. They look like - just wrinkly little people, about this big, with big ears."

"Fascinating. And have these oh-so-useful little creatures always been here?" This was fun. This human was responding so readily to just the slightest bit of hypnotic pressure, it was obvious he'd have been perfectly forthcoming even without it.

But it still gave him a toehold into Rory's mind. A foundation for more profound levels of hypnotic control. Glorious.

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