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Another day, another lecture. Being grounded, so to speak, was less irritating this go round. Mostly because his TARDIS was still working. He still knew the requisite dematerialization codes to work his TARDIS.
Like last time, he'd lost someone dear to him. River had died, not forgotten him, but she was just as lost. There would be no inquiry of the High Council, even if they'd dared, about trying to restore his friends' memories. No. Just the cruel machinations of Time and Fate, if you believed such existed.
The Doctor wasn't marooned. He wasn't even just mourning. He had a job to do, and a promise to keep. So he'd taken up teaching to try to stave off his boredom. Interacted with a few of his old companions over the years - in strict secrecy of course - and had to do his best not to interfere in events he'd already been apart of.
Altogether, it made his scattered control over his impulses fried. He was alone save for Nardole and Missy. Together they almost made adequate company, but one was practically a jailer and the other a prisoner and student.
He missed River. And Clara, for all that she was a mere wisp of memory, facts with no face. Every person he interacted with now that found out the truth, their memory had to be erased for their own safety. It was enough to almost make him sick. But he couldn't quite recall, why it was that he'd been so furious with the Time Lords.
Whatever it was had faded like smoke. The Doctor sometimes wondered if this was maturity. He wasn't sure if he liked it.
His feet pounded the concrete, running for little reason other than to stay in shape. How Professor Chronitis had managed three centuries was beyond him.
Post by The Master on Jun 29, 2017 17:33:33 GMT -5
He was succumbed with the horrid human disease known to many as 'boredom.' For if being stranded upon Earth had not been bad enough. He had taken up to the shadows, staving his hunger off with bits of scrap he could find (or an unlucky tramp, if the hunger had really hit him.)
Being spat out of the Time War had resolved his dying body, through no such regeneration. The Master roamed the streets of London as a hobo, oh how far he had fallen, for Harold Saxon, once prime minister-turned-permenant-hobo.
He had attempted to find something to do, though interacting with the general public had not been an option. That was when it had hit him, the smell. His eyes narrowed dangerously as his hands grabbed at the the gravel and concrete to support himself as he began to stand.
The Doctor.
It was an unmistakeable trace, though only faint - had caught enough of his attention to drag him into the streets of London. His hood was drawn - still had not managed to get a new set of clothes since. Though he had gotten odd looks from the apes, he continued determined to find the source.
That was until he came to a halt in front of a building in which the smell had been very strong moments prior. Those around campus, for those who had spotted him, dismissed him as a stranger and a tramp and largely had tried to ignore him. But the Master had skimmed their thoughts, hardly wanting to delve into the young mind of humans before setting off after the scent at a light jog.
He'd only been running to keep in shape. Well, and to distract himself. He was a very busy man, yes, but that was partially because nothing could hold his attention long that didn't include life threatening danger. The Doctor had been jogging for four minutes and fifty seconds when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He didn't know who or why. What the Doctor knew was that he was being followed. Tracked, most likely. While the Time Lord had gotten plenty of comments about his running, he'd not been pursued because of it. So there had to be some other reason.
The jog became a run as the Doctor's mind raced ahead. He needed to know, which meant a possible confrontation. It also meant hiding in plain sight.
Post by The Master on Jun 29, 2017 21:11:58 GMT -5
The Master scowled as the Doctor seemingly only increased his pace - and which he quickly brought himself up to speed. It had been a trend, one in which he had noticed with his old friend/enemy (depending on the day, of course) - that he was never very good at detecting Timelords.
Something of a fun fact the Master liked to store away on rainy days. Then again, the only reason that the Doctor would have sped up was from detecting something following him. He slowed himself as he neared, his eyes peeled for his oldest enemy. He could hear the sounds of men shoutin... football. Never a game he had paid too much attention for, but his eyes narrowed.
The scent was strong. The Doctor was around, his eyes skimmed the pitch. An old man playing with a football, a couple of toddlers (teenagers, they were all the same to him)--
Wait.
Old man playing football?
The Master started towards him, before breaking out in a quick jog - having noticed a football flying towards the back of The Doctor's head.
Everyone looked and sounded like children to the Doctor. That's what travelling through time and space did for you. And what living so much longer than most species you lived around, of course. But he was good at aiming trajectories, so football as unbelievingly boring as it was, passed just fine for his purposes right now. Namely getting a look at his pursuer.
At first, the Doctor thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Get out of the way.
He dodged, mostly from the punch to the gut those words held, staggering away from the game to stare at the Master. He'd known that his old enemy and older friend had survived some how. Missy was a testament to that. But he hadn't known that he was on Earth wearing this face.
Moving automatically, the Doctor crossed the distance between them. It took conscious effort to remind himself this was the Master. This wasn't Missy, not yet, and whatever had happened that lowered Missy's guard around him. Whatever caused her to want to renew their friendship, it hadn't happened yet.
Maybe it had never happened and it was all a ploy, but the Doctor didn't think so. He wasn't certain that it could work. Missy was good at being evil. It came as naturally as breathing. But he could believe that part of her might want to.
Even if not, there was a reason that he'd sent her his confession dial.
There were too many thoughts. Too many questions. So much he wanted to know, but in the end, all the Doctor did was yank the Master the rest of the way onto the grass as a lorry sped by where the Master had been standing seconds before.
Oh, he enjoyed the Doctor's idiotic face sharply drop as he realise that it was him who was his pursuer. A grin had been fixed on his face as he slowed to a slow walk across the road, though his body had tensed up at the sudden movement of the Doctor, the heavy grasp of his hand yanking him sideways, narrowly missing the lorry that had barreled past without a second thought.
Humans.
Having recovered from the yanking, he righted himself, standing in defiance as he allowed himself to scan the immediate area - to make sure that no one else had seen what had just happened. The Doctor having just saved him. His brow settled, casting a dark look as his hands came up to push back the hood. He took in The Doctor's new look, furrowing his brow - showing faux disapproval.
Hello, Doctor. You seemed shocked. He was stating the obvious, but he deserved a little time to revel in his old friend's situation.
Shocked was an understatement. If the Doctor was still the hugging sort, the Master might have been subjected to one. As it was, he didn't have a particular need to hide his face. Not with the Master when it wouldn't do any good.
The Master had chosen his words well. He could have waited to see if the Doctor noticed the fly away ball. Could have let him be injured, and probably not so much as blinked at it. Instead, he'd intentionally brought to mind the last words the Doctor had heard that face say as they both chose to protect each other.
As they both decided not to let anyone else determine the fate of their best enemy.
If he was any less clever, the Doctor's brain might have shut down from the overload.
Post by The Master on Jun 30, 2017 19:11:03 GMT -5
His eyes flickered to the side, there had been people still watching them. Humans were simple creatures, he had found. Not incredibly intelligent but they had their perks. But, staring at the two of them certainly did not do any favours in getting them ranked higher in his book.
That's stating the obvious.
He scoffed lightly. Yes, he had chosen those words - to remind the Doctor that he was the only one allowed to screw up the Doctor's fate. Not Rassilon with his stupid glowing glove.
"You're old," The Master spoke out loud finally, a grin on his face. "Those eyebrows look heavy, I'm surprised that you even managed to outrun me with those stuck on your face."
The Doctor wasn't aware of the crowd. Theoretically speaking, he knew they hadn't ceased to exist or anything of the like, but they didn't register. Well, he needed all of his attention when dealing with the Master; didn't he? There was a slim chance this face wasn't up to something, some grand scheme. Regardless of if he was or not, he couldn't just leave either.
"Now who's stating the obvious." He very slowly raised one of said eyebrows. "What do you want, Master?"
The Master tilted his head from side to side in slow agreement, "Decided to live life in the slow lane then, Doctor. Good change, but can't say I like it." He allowed himself a slow grin. The Doctor would remain the Doctor, and that in itself was enough - no matter what face that he had chosen. Only he was allowed to make fun of him.
"What do you want, Master?"
"Want?" The Master attempted to feign hurt, but instead only looked bemused. "What I want, is what you already know. But, whether I'd get it, would be another matter. Maybe I'm only seeking out a way to alleviate the boredom of being a harmless hobo." He shrugged, before putting a finger to his lips in a gesture of thought. "I do have to say that your children were all making such silly faces when I passed by. Not very nice."
It felt so foreign, talking to this face. He hadn't fully trusted Missy - still didn't, if it came down to it - but now the sharp differences between her past and future current stood in sharp relief. The one, colder and harsher, and the other a strange mix of passion, dispassion, and whimsy. She had definitely changed.
And yet, this man was still his friend. Still someone he wouldn't see dead, for anything or anyone. There had been days, been lived, where he wouldn't have lifted a finger to help. But then... that had also been when he couldn't fathom someone choosing not to regenerate.
The Doctor understood that better now.
"What makes it good?" He'd play along. Of course, his old friend couldn't know that he was personally in the slow path to help his future self.
The Master's answer to what he wanted answered absolutely nothing. What he already knew?
"And why is someone like you playing a hobo? I'm surprised you've not hidden your round face with one of your rubbish disguises yet." There was a bit of heat from the insult to his humans, but the traces of amusement would be clear to the Master as well. They were speaking too civilly to jump straight to anger as a response.
"Suits your age better." He rubbed a hand over his stubble. The Master needed a shave. It was strange standing here, with the Doctor having regenerated into this face, certainly not trying to kill one another - like they seemed to always do to some degree of succession.
"And why is someone like you playing a hobo? I'm surprised you've not hidden your round face with one of your rubbish disguises yet."
His eyes narrowed, "Round?!" It was not enough to spark his anger, but was interesting to see the Doctor so...blunt. "Personally, I had some great disguises when I was younger. But, dressing like a hobo really fits in nowadays in London." Was he ready to admit being thrown back out of Gallifrey back onto Earth, having failed to even grab a change of clothes on the way out - and thus stuck, without a TARDIS. Oh yes, he was angry at the fact that he was back on Earth with the primitives but at least their memories were short.
"What's an old man doing out for a jog? Don't tell me you're bored of playing professor already."
The Doctor scoffed lightly, but being complimented on one's current face was always nice. Particularly from someone else who'd had several. Who had, in fact, seen almost all of his. Even if the Master had been a strange, missing hole right after the War and, in fact, in his last body as well.
"If I'd gone any younger, I'd have been a teenager," he said in grumpy agreement.
He did have to acknowledge the Master had a point about blending in. The hoodie and ill kempt clothes were in fashion with a surprising number of university students as well. Or perhaps they just didn't care.
"Oh, you know, spend a few decades nattering on and you might enjoy some fresh air from time to time."
"Oh, you know, spend a few decades nattering on and you might enjoy some fresh air from time to time."
The Master smirked, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his eyes narrowed for a minute second as he took the time to observe his surroundings, the people in the park, the dogs chasing after a flock of pigeons and the like. "So, what, are we going to stand here like idiots?" He partially had been hoping for something to be done about his boredom, as he stood, his arms folded across his chest. "Or would it be better if I talk about a change of hands of the university?" It was a couple of letters long of 'universe' but it was all the same.
'Might enjoy some fresh air' was the understatement of the century. The Doctor had cabin fever, to put it mildly. He wanted to see every single star in the sky, before it had flared and burned away forever. But he did have to wait, and it was for a good cause. The best cause, really.
He didn't want to linger on sentiment. Not right here, right now, with this face. And the Master made it so easy for him not to.
"So, what, are we going to stand here like idiots?" "Why not?" That's exactly what we are, his smile said. Idiots, the two of us.
Of course, then the threats started.
"That won't be necessary." The Doctor grimaced, really he kept hoping they'd move past this part. He was still suspicious; the Master always had an ulterior motive. Did he suspect his future self was trapped here?
Last Edit: Jul 7, 2017 11:14:41 GMT -5 by Deleted: fixing bolding <3
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