The Master (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
best_served_hot) wrote2010-05-22 11:24 pm
best_served_hot) wrote2010-05-22 11:24 pm
fic: malfunctions
Throughout his time in this Universe, however long, it is still minuscule next to the measurement of time itself. In that time a great many things have happened and for a long while now there has been a distinct lack of surprises.
And while he might enjoy the surety of his actions and knowing just how his plans will progress; he also enjoys the satisfaction of a challenge.
Though, more often than not, things veer in the direction of Horribly Wrong and everyone knows what they say about the best laid plans.
But when his plans land him as not much more than a coalesced bundle of energy hanging on by a non-literal thread inside of his best enemy's TARDIS, there are no other plans outside of life. Call it his being stubborn but it is what keeps him going after the ridiculous mess that was made during that human Christmas.
And now after a revelation and unhappy reunion, he's stuck in a box that he had been stuck in before after an execution and a trip to Earth so very long ago. That whole experience was rather undignified and he'd rather not think on it and if the Doctor ends up rapping on the top of the box once more, he's going to hurt him when he gets his body back.
It isn't shortly after that there's controlled energy, bright light and excruciating pain. He moves from being energy to the change of pulling in a breath and two beating hearts in his chest. It's too much to keep up with at once and his newly formed body isn't quite ready to handle the universe at large. The lights in the room are far too bright, it hurts and it's exquisite.
The monotone colors bleed together, broken only by a fuzzy figure leaping towards him and a voice that's distorted and garbled to his ears. Everything blurs and spins and his legs aren't ready for the weight, he pitches forward, only to be caught by arms covered in- Was that tweed?
"Easy. I've got you. The disorientation should pass momentarily." It's a new voice for the Doctor.
The room slowly stops it's whirling motion as his hands grasp at the arms holding him up. The Master lifts his head with some difficulty, blinking until his vision clears and he can focus properly.
What greets him is a man with floppy hair, wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie, that isn't to mention the annoying, self-satisfied grin. "So, not a car or a pillow, just plain old you," he says. "What do you think?"
The Master doesn't quite have it in him to manage a sneer but it seems the Doctor knows him well enough and his grin only widens even before he speaks.
"Your hair is still ridiculous."
prompt: rp with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elevenwho
words: 488
And while he might enjoy the surety of his actions and knowing just how his plans will progress; he also enjoys the satisfaction of a challenge.
Though, more often than not, things veer in the direction of Horribly Wrong and everyone knows what they say about the best laid plans.
But when his plans land him as not much more than a coalesced bundle of energy hanging on by a non-literal thread inside of his best enemy's TARDIS, there are no other plans outside of life. Call it his being stubborn but it is what keeps him going after the ridiculous mess that was made during that human Christmas.
And now after a revelation and unhappy reunion, he's stuck in a box that he had been stuck in before after an execution and a trip to Earth so very long ago. That whole experience was rather undignified and he'd rather not think on it and if the Doctor ends up rapping on the top of the box once more, he's going to hurt him when he gets his body back.
It isn't shortly after that there's controlled energy, bright light and excruciating pain. He moves from being energy to the change of pulling in a breath and two beating hearts in his chest. It's too much to keep up with at once and his newly formed body isn't quite ready to handle the universe at large. The lights in the room are far too bright, it hurts and it's exquisite.
The monotone colors bleed together, broken only by a fuzzy figure leaping towards him and a voice that's distorted and garbled to his ears. Everything blurs and spins and his legs aren't ready for the weight, he pitches forward, only to be caught by arms covered in- Was that tweed?
"Easy. I've got you. The disorientation should pass momentarily." It's a new voice for the Doctor.
The room slowly stops it's whirling motion as his hands grasp at the arms holding him up. The Master lifts his head with some difficulty, blinking until his vision clears and he can focus properly.
What greets him is a man with floppy hair, wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie, that isn't to mention the annoying, self-satisfied grin. "So, not a car or a pillow, just plain old you," he says. "What do you think?"
The Master doesn't quite have it in him to manage a sneer but it seems the Doctor knows him well enough and his grin only widens even before he speaks.
"Your hair is still ridiculous."
prompt: rp with
elevenwhowords: 488
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