[identity profile] theregothedrums.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] hh_mirror
((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.

Date: 2010-10-13 10:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vislor-turlough.livejournal.com
"I suppose technically you'd be correct. I f you must know, though, I'm a Trion."

Date: 2010-10-13 10:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vislor-turlough.livejournal.com
"And how, pray tell, are you aware of what a Trion is?"

Date: 2010-10-13 11:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vislor-turlough.livejournal.com
"Hmph. Your name probably isn't even Carl Norman." Unfortunately, he didn't make it in time to see 'The Master' fade away.

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