justprompts Simple
"Oh, Doctor, if only they knew, hm?" The Master purred, right at the Doctor's ear as they watched the Jones family scurry about in their hired help outfits. He made sure that the others could hear that announcement and smiled inwardly knowing that somewhere, deep within the bowels of the Valiant, the freak is watching CCTV footage of this.
"They think they have some idea of the person you are. The Hero." he spat, face contorting as he suddenly pushed the chair, sending the Doctor vaulting out of it. He didn't bat an eye when he smashed into the floor. He practically glided to where he was, stepping over his frail, old form easily. He knew that the Joneses had stopped working, watching in helpless, silent anger as he did what he pleased to their precious Doctor. Part of him raged at thought. Each companion, each person offered a glimpse into his best enemy's life spoke of him as if they owned him or at least some tiny piece of him, even if they didn't realize they did.
It made him hate them all the more. Made his blood boil with ungodly fire and the drums were so loud that he thought he might shatter into pieces. He wanted to take each and every one of them apart in front of the Doctor. See them scream and cry and beg and watch him try to save them. The Doctor was his before any of them even existed.
He wondered if the Doctor even remembered that.
"What do they know of you really and how easily you betray? How you lie to save your own skin and leave another to take the fall?"
The Doctor looked up at him then, acknowledging him for the first time in days, he was pleading with him to stop without saying a word at all. Neither of them had spoken of this, so far as the Master knew, and if the others knew what he'd done.. The Master wasn't sure why but their belief in him was needed and he felt nauseous thinking about how much he depended on these insignificant apes. He grinned maliciously, kneeling next to him and gripping his chin with one hand.
"How you always run?"
"Please-" The Master stopped, canting his head and leaning closer to hear. He could have imagined it but the look on this old bag of flesh and bone's face told him otherwise.
"Sorry, not so sure I heard that. Shall I offer them a look into your life?" And the Doctor knew he could which made the prospect all the more terrifying. He wouldn't be able to stop him because his efforts would be focused on hiding his entrenchment in the Archangel Network.
"Master, please."
He smiled graciously then, no hint of the previous malice on his features as he patted his cheek gently. "There's a good boy. Now! Off you go, into your tent!" That insane energy that the Master seemed to have an extreme overabundance of was back and the Doctor gritted his teeth, forcing his sore, overtaxed body to cooperate with him as he moved to stand.
He should have known better because the next thing he received was a vicious kick to the stomach. "Bad dog!" he scolded as the other Time Lord collapsed and clutched his bruised ribs, gasping for air. He knew what that meant but he didn't offer any resistance. He didn't fight.
Part of him thought of this as a sort of penance. His just desserts for the wrong he'd committed so long ago against someone he should have protected. Against someone he said he- The Doctor let the thought go. Slowly, he began to crawl to his tent, the Master behind him every step of the way. He felt his hands on his sides, helping him to lie down and idly wondered if this were a part of his show.
"Such a good Doctor, yes you are." he cooed in a ridiculous tone, smiling and patting him on the head. "If you're very good, I'll give you a treat in the morning! Now, time for all good doggies to go to have a nap." The tent flap closed and he saw the Master's silhouette move away.
The Master clapped his hands together, glaring at the Joneses. "Why aren't you working?!" he snapped, laughing as they started scurrying about again.
The Doctor thought maybe, he could find a way to apologize, instead of trying to stop him. Instead of offering forgiveness when he should be the one begging for it. The Master could stop fighting. Stop trying to defeat him.
But these things were never that simple.
prompt: simple
words: 809
"They think they have some idea of the person you are. The Hero." he spat, face contorting as he suddenly pushed the chair, sending the Doctor vaulting out of it. He didn't bat an eye when he smashed into the floor. He practically glided to where he was, stepping over his frail, old form easily. He knew that the Joneses had stopped working, watching in helpless, silent anger as he did what he pleased to their precious Doctor. Part of him raged at thought. Each companion, each person offered a glimpse into his best enemy's life spoke of him as if they owned him or at least some tiny piece of him, even if they didn't realize they did.
It made him hate them all the more. Made his blood boil with ungodly fire and the drums were so loud that he thought he might shatter into pieces. He wanted to take each and every one of them apart in front of the Doctor. See them scream and cry and beg and watch him try to save them. The Doctor was his before any of them even existed.
He wondered if the Doctor even remembered that.
"What do they know of you really and how easily you betray? How you lie to save your own skin and leave another to take the fall?"
The Doctor looked up at him then, acknowledging him for the first time in days, he was pleading with him to stop without saying a word at all. Neither of them had spoken of this, so far as the Master knew, and if the others knew what he'd done.. The Master wasn't sure why but their belief in him was needed and he felt nauseous thinking about how much he depended on these insignificant apes. He grinned maliciously, kneeling next to him and gripping his chin with one hand.
"How you always run?"
"Please-" The Master stopped, canting his head and leaning closer to hear. He could have imagined it but the look on this old bag of flesh and bone's face told him otherwise.
"Sorry, not so sure I heard that. Shall I offer them a look into your life?" And the Doctor knew he could which made the prospect all the more terrifying. He wouldn't be able to stop him because his efforts would be focused on hiding his entrenchment in the Archangel Network.
"Master, please."
He smiled graciously then, no hint of the previous malice on his features as he patted his cheek gently. "There's a good boy. Now! Off you go, into your tent!" That insane energy that the Master seemed to have an extreme overabundance of was back and the Doctor gritted his teeth, forcing his sore, overtaxed body to cooperate with him as he moved to stand.
He should have known better because the next thing he received was a vicious kick to the stomach. "Bad dog!" he scolded as the other Time Lord collapsed and clutched his bruised ribs, gasping for air. He knew what that meant but he didn't offer any resistance. He didn't fight.
Part of him thought of this as a sort of penance. His just desserts for the wrong he'd committed so long ago against someone he should have protected. Against someone he said he- The Doctor let the thought go. Slowly, he began to crawl to his tent, the Master behind him every step of the way. He felt his hands on his sides, helping him to lie down and idly wondered if this were a part of his show.
"Such a good Doctor, yes you are." he cooed in a ridiculous tone, smiling and patting him on the head. "If you're very good, I'll give you a treat in the morning! Now, time for all good doggies to go to have a nap." The tent flap closed and he saw the Master's silhouette move away.
The Master clapped his hands together, glaring at the Joneses. "Why aren't you working?!" he snapped, laughing as they started scurrying about again.
The Doctor thought maybe, he could find a way to apologize, instead of trying to stop him. Instead of offering forgiveness when he should be the one begging for it. The Master could stop fighting. Stop trying to defeat him.
But these things were never that simple.
prompt: simple
words: 809