Somebody knows, somebody's seen. Somebody knows right where you've been.
Sark is in a tree.
Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.
No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy ( Read more... )
Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.
No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy ( Read more... )
Sark. In a tree.
...well, this is at least somewhat familiar, even though the last time, if memory serves, it was April up in branches. Which might serve as an explanation for how Sark found himself in a similar state.
He pauses under the tree, folding his hands into his sleeves and directing an inquisitive glance upward. "Mr. Sark."
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"Vesmier," he replies, keeping his tone even, despite the fact that it's occupying all of his attention to balance on this tree branch and not... Fall to his death. As far as ways to die go, that one's not high on his list.
He shifts, still working on getting down. "There is a perfectly logical explanation for this."
Because he's sure the Vesmier would care if there wasn't, except for the part where he probably wouldn't.
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"Those I know who seem to favor arboreal vantages rarely seem to require one," he says. "Though you seem less at ease there than either April or the Doctor."
He'd offer to help Sark down, but... he's the Vesmier. Knowing how to get into and out of trees does not exactly come with the territory.
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"However, as far as attempts to invoke more whimsy in my life go, I'm finding that this was hardly the best choice." Maybe he should get that sign Dmitri mentioned... Or maybe he should just shoot himself in the face and save himself some trouble.
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"Whimsy," he muses. "The Doctor of my own universe frequently encouraged the pursuit of whimsy in my life." He pauses to consider that. "His attempts were less than effective; but then, I was never convinced as to the worth or need."
The Doctor would have paid money to see the Vesmier climb a tree. Not that paying money is that apt a metaphor, but he would have been thrilled.
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"And, honestly, the lack of success in this particular endeavor isn't helping." Right. He looks down, tries to figure out which branch is not going to lead to his demise, and swears that the next time he sees Dmitri he's going to tell her that her strategies are defective.
...Of course, if he's looking at it like a strategy that's all kinds of DOING IT WRONG.
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Either April or the Doctor must be in psychic range. And if neither of them are... well. He's sure there are channels to address this sort of thing. Somehow.
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And to prove this, he swings his other leg around the other side of the branch he's wrapped around, grabs hold of the nearest branch above him for balance and rather awkwardly plants himself on it, keeping a hold of the other branch in case this one cracks, but it manages to hold steady.
"Besides, I believe I've suffered far worst than trees in my time, anyway." He's climbed mountains for God's sake. This is a tree. It can't be that difficult.
...Okay, now where's the next branch?
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He shifts, moving to a spot which seems to threaten falling branches a bit less. Whether or not he can help Sark down, he feels as though he should at least keep an eye on him in case he does fall out of the tree and needs assistance called.
He tilts his head. "Would descent not be a simple matter of rendering your ascent in reverse?" he asks. That'd make sense, wouldn't it?
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"But if it were that easy, I suppose local fire departments wouldn't earn their paychecks by rescuing kittens." His footing finds a branch close enough to the ground and he grabs it tightly with both hands and swings out, landing nimbly on the ground. "There," he mutters, more to himself, than to Ves. "No harm done."
Besides his pride, but his pride is in a general state of disrepair. He'll get over it.
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Except from higher up, and all at once.
He makes a small gesture from inside his sleeve, now that the issue of the tree seems to have been dispensed with. "I was intending to find the TARDIS," he says. "Pursue some reading. I don't suppose you've seen her?" He did ping for her, and got a ping back, but the location seemed... unlikely, somehow. It's possible she's playing with some distortion in physics or other that'd make it difficult to locate her psychically. Unless she really is somewhere in the middle of the lake.
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His hair in slightly more disrepair than it normally is, but now at least twig-free, he moves on the dusting the dirt off of his clothes. "Although, April does spend a considerable amount of time in the TARDIS's company. Have you asked her?"
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The Vesmier doesn't react in any noticable way, but he does say "I actually haven't seen April recently. I imagine she must be occupying herself about the city." In that way that humans and people named the Doctor do. Apparently staying in one place and performing one task is for politically minded Gallifreyans and few others.
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There's a small silence that follows, which clearly indicates that the conversation is over and the two of them can part ways and waste no more words of idle conversation. The Rift, however, does not think that this conversation is over. The Rift is, in the immortal words of Bonnie Raitt, going to give them somethin' to talk about.
About ten feet away, a Rift opens up and suddenly There is a... THING where there was no thing before. It is roughly the size of an elephant and looks like some cunning geneticist decided to combine a sabretooth tiger and a moose. It's a bit disoriented at the moment, but it's recovering remarkably well for something that just got dropped into another world ( ... )
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Somehow, in the amount of wandering around the city he's done, he's managed to to run into giant monsters before now. The worst he's really encountered were a few CLF goons and a snowball fight, neither of which prepares him for sabretoothed mooselions.
"..." he says, quite eloquently, under the circumstances and he tries to think of what he's supposed to do here. The options seem to be falling between "Usually if there's danger I just run quite fast and hope to get something between me and it" and "-of course, wild animals, now; those are a very bad idea to run from," and the next time he sees the Doctor who gave him those particular pieces of advice, he's going to spare no effort in telling him that his approach to crises leaves a remarkable amount to be desired.
For the moment, however, there's a disoriented mooselion.
"..."
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Sark's first thought is that there is safety in trees... Of course, that thing looks big enough to topple a tree, so that would be a waste of effort. Running would be a nice option, but probably not a very smart thing to do. Generally speaking, the best thing to do in this sort of situation is to stand perfectly still and hope it... Just walks away and ignores you.
Sark gets his gun out his back pocket, just in case. He doubts it's going to do much good, but it's a comfort thing.
The mooselion, for its part, is very confused. It was tending to its baby and then suddenly it wasn't where it was supposed to be... And now it's baby is gone. This makes mama very angry and she's looking for something to hurtOh look, two tiny human-shaped things. Human-shaped things hunt her kind. They ( ... )
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