http://theregothedrums.livejournal.com/ (
theregothedrums.livejournal.com) wrote in
hh_mirror2010-10-12 02:02 pm
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Entry tags:
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.
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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"I'd have said the hair was the real improvement," he said, making mercilessly unwavering eye contact. He dipped his head just a little lower, his bottom lip barely brushing the Doctor's fingers briefly enough to be almost subliminal.
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And that coupled with the subtle (but so extremely noticeable) kiss to his fingers made a traitorous little jump in his pulse. But... he could still see that look in the Master's eyes, where the door that shouldn't have ever been opened was laying off its hinges, covered in dust.
He coughed. "Better than just a bit of a hack dye-job, leastwise."
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As had been the insatiable hunger and the ability to shoot lightning bolts and jump like a rocket-propelled kangaroo. Those were gone, he could feel it. His metabolism wasn't burning at a hummingbird's pace anymore.
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"So! About that bath, then." He lifted an eyebrow "unless you want to run off and eat your weight in curry first."
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The idea of eating a curry that wasn't spicy wasn't worth considering.
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"Oh, I'm sure," he said lightly. "I've no doubt you go around tasting all sorts of things, with as little excuse as you can get away with."
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Not that he thought that consciously. It was more of a vague sensation of relief and approval.
"I miss the baths on Rexlar 7," he said. "Pity their sun went supernova."
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