Days dissolve into the ether, condense like clouds and come raining back down…

[nowinprint]

In the halls of the Kashtta Tower - one rather rusted-out and old-blood-stained hall, to be particular - something is happening.

That "something" happens to be a door splintering apart and a ranting pseudo-Angel of Knowledge stumbling through the broken bits.

Dmitri Lang is gripping a pickaxe which shines faintly with clean gold light, and thus

Comments

[superiorspectre]

Suzie might just have a moment of spazz when the Vesmier's mind brushes hers, but the sound that comes with the contact could only be the Vesmier.

She relaxes a bit.

Hello. Are you feeling better?

She doesn't bother trying to conceal the quickly-fading panic.

[the_vesmier]

There's a brief chord of low surprise, as though the Vesmier himself wasn't quite expecting to encounter anyone. It resolves a moment later, though, and the Vesmier's mental presence focuses and solidifies.

:: ...my mind was wandering, :: he realizes. Well. That's not happened in a few hundred years. :: My apologies. I hadn't meant to startle you. ::

Of course, there was all that time on Gallifrey which he never spent in a dissociative coma which might account for something.

He performs the mental equivalent of straightening his shirt and brushing off his sleeves, and the previously amorphous presence develops a bit more coherency and form.

:: Hello. Apparently my cognitive functions are no longer tied up in deep conscious trance; this is a promising sign. How are you? ::

There is, perhaps, a bit of concern to that query. He did recognize that initial response for what it was.

[superiorspectre]

I'm glad to hear from you, actually, Suzie thinks. I was worried.

There's a moment when she debates what to... think at him. The news she has is probably not the sort of thing anyone wants to hear, especially when they've been in a coma since November. But she's still scared, and she doesn't like that. And if anyone knows how to handle something like this, it's the Vesmier.

And I'm a bit jumpy, sorry. It's just that... The Master's here. In Chicago. He left a message on the journals.

That should explain it all, really, especially when she can't even think that name without it being coloured by fear.

[the_vesmier]

...no. No, that's definitely not the sort of thing anyone wants to hear, under any circumstances, ever.

There's a moment's pause as the Vesmier begins to consider that this is not the best time to be lying somewhere in a coma, and then he moves quite matter-of-factly on. :: Has he approached you? ::

He can't sense the creature on her. But he's not exactly at his best. The low, demiconscious chords darken and deepen, slide momentarily into a complex minor key. If he has to drag himself out of a healing coma by the inflection of his base instinctuals...

[superiorspectre]

No, Suzie thinks. He hasn't approached me. I doubt I was important enough in the grand scheme of things for him to give me a second thought, once I'd done my job. Not that it's not still terrifying that he's here, but realistically, I don't think I'm in any immediate danger.

There's a distinct mental pause, a sense of things moving underneath the surface, and then, with some reluctance, All his attention seems to be on the Doctor.

[the_vesmier]

Brief psychic time-out as the Vesmier performs the cognitive from-within-a-coma version of putting his HEAD into a wall. It lasts about three seconds.

::Wonderful.:: The word is accompanied by a shade of inflection that transcends sarcasm and hits at least three Gallifreyan analogues simultaneously.

[superiorspectre]

Suzie keeps any thoughts about the Doctor and the Master possibly deserving each other shoved far to the back of her mind, especially given the fact that she's quite sure no one deserves the Master, no matter her personal feelings about the Doctor.

Instead she focuses on another bit of news. And Julian's gone missing. Someone was torturing him -- there was a collar burned into his neck, and now I can't find him. I don't even know if he's still alive. And I knew what was happening, and he refused to tell me anything. Idiot.

...I wish you were awake. I'm sorry, I know this isn't the sort of thing anyone wants to hear when they're in a coma. I just... I don't like having no idea of what to do.

[the_vesmier]

::The feeling is mutual,:: the Vesmier responds, to both assertions. He'd rather not be unconscious while an alternate-universe and entirely insane version of himself has free run of the city, he'd rather he had some modicum of control of the situation or his own situation, at the very least...

He'd rather Mr. Sark stopped getting himself into trouble, but he suspects that, as with the Doctor, that might be entirely too much to ask of the man.

::Under normal circumstances, I'd offer to attempt to contact Mr. Sark for you,:: he continues. ::Unfortunately, as has been demonstrated, my usual acuity has been somewhat compromised.:: There's a moment of realization. ::Although...::

Maybe there's something to be done, after all.

::If you were to find some way to transfer my body into the TARDIS, she might be able to assist me,:: he says. ::...and it would also... be somewhat reassuring, to know that my body was not easily accessible.::

That's where he keeps his brain. He'd like it as far away from the Master as possible.