The Dowsing Rod of Rassilon

[hasthatright]

Who: The Master and River.
What: Wardrobe matters.
When: Immediately upon this.
Where: The library.
Rating: D for déshabillé.
Status: Private and incomplete.

Comments

[brainpanned]

Necessarily meandering, River had logged off her computer and paced between the bookcases, tracing her hands along plastic-covered spines. Paper books were so hard to find in the future...most everything had been digitized on the core worlds. Many of the people on the rim didn't really feel the need to learn to read, either. That being said, despite the impracticality, books had a calming touch to them.

Her head snapped up, instantly alert to the sound of her name. Still strange, she had to admit, that the Master had become so...so. Two completely different people, in her mind.

Though the more she talked to him, the more River became aware that there were more than just two people inside his head. It was just so hard to tell through the drumming. Peering around the bookcase, she lingered just long enough for him to catch her eye, and vanished back into the stacks just as suddenly.

[hasthatright]

"I saw you, River!" The Master continued his exaggerated stage whisper, failing in not disturbing every patron he passed. He advanced slowly toward the stacks, happy to play this game.

"Come out, come out!" he went. How he managed to vary the pitches so dramatically even while maintaining the whisper, even he didn't know. "Come and meet your Master."

[brainpanned]

River half-crouched, creeping around one aisle as the Master rounded the corner. He'd catch a flash of skirt or coat or hair. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing, but that didn't stop the widening, childish grin curling her mouth. She did creep toward the entrance, peering over her shoulder now and again to see if she was being followed. Well, of course she was being followed, but the question was one of closeness.

[hasthatright]

He could move more quickly of course (a lot more quickly), but what was the fun in that? Even a hunter knew that much of the joy was in the chase, as much as in the reward. He strode imperiously down the aisle in River's wake, although the effect--and perhaps she was right after all about his outfit--was lost a bit without the dramatically swirly cape.

"Oh River," he said loudly. He'd forgotten about the whispering. "I wonder where she could be. I could have sworn I saw her here only a moment ago."

He thought she might have giggled, but he wasn't sure, and anyway at the rates at which they were moving, it was inevitable that he would catch up with her imminently.

So he changed tactics and slipped behind a shelf of dog mysteries (A New Leash on Death? The Master couldn't decide if he found it wildly hilarious or humanly distasteful) in order to go around the other away and cut her off at the entrance.

He caught her by the upper arm with a sudden and precise gesture. "Got you!" He was triumphant, and grinned, proud of himself. "