justprompts battlefield
Warning: Dark. Character death.
A battlefield. A desolate wasteland of blood marred and muddy trenches that they've both stumbled through these long, lonely centuries. Time Lords can cheat death by regeneration and on more than one occasion he's sought to extend his own existence by stealing from another such as himself.
His own personal martyr, sacrificing himself needlessly for a Universe that will eventually just die. It was a waste of more than just time, it was a waste of potential, a waste of love.
Harold remembers what that emotion felt like but it's fading, just like the stars in the sky. The drums are calling now, louder in his mind as if they were a sentient thing that sensed his supreme agitation. What is love to the beating of the drums? Do they mimic a heartbeat? Could they mirror two? Could they encompass the wholly unique sound of two timeless individuals whose hearts once beat in sync with the others?
No. They are merely drums and the only use they have for a heart is for it's blood as it is silenced to slake the thirst of War.
For a brief moment he found himself blessed with utter silence in his mind. A few, fleeting seconds as he shuddered and died in the Doctor's arms, demanding only breaths before to know if they would ever stop. Had he still been alive, he might have cried. For the first time in centuries, his mind had been his own and the drums were no more.
Peace ended as abruptly as the calm in the eye of a hurricane and the darkness that crowded round after death gave way to the piercing, blinding light of life. A breath, another and then it came again, the drumming. The infernal din that he'd thought himself free of finally crashed into him like an unrelenting tide reducing him to clawing at his own ears in an attempt to rid himself of them once again. He dimly heard someone screaming and realized, after his throat was raw and hoarse from it that it had indeed been him. He never saw whoever or whatever had been foolish enough to pull him from oblivion but he was alone when he finally regained complete control of his senses.
Of course his return hadn't gone unnoticed, he was still a Time Lord as was the Doctor. The other man found him on the barren world where he'd been reborn and even in nothing but rags, that brash, cocky attitude he'd had before had come back as well.
"This is impossible."
"Such a harsh word, that." he mock pouted. "I would've thought fantastic was in order." he sauntered closer, his two hearts beating in tandem with the drums. "Or haven't you missed me?"
He was rewarded by a scrutinizing look from the Doctor as he looked him over. "You still hear them."
The Master backed down but it was slight and barely noticeable. "You expected something else?"
"I'd hoped you'd have peace."
"How quaint."
"I can help you."
Harold looked down at his bare, muddy feet then his soiled clothing, anything so that he didn't have to see the pity in the other man's eyes. His blood boiled under the surface of his skin. Don't pity me! he thought viciously and the drums sounded so loud that he thought his ears must be bleeding. What happened in the next moment threw him. He felt the TARDIS in his mind, offering what she had, helping like she did with any other companion that her Doctor embraced.
"Come with me." he offered with an outstretched hand.
"Can you make them stop? Can you...make me better?" A part of him was appalled that those words had come from his lips but he ignored it.
"I can try."
---
Despite obvious trepidation from both of them, the Doctor and the Master had grown closer, moving on a united front to find a way to stop the drums. Mental blocks helped but those weren't something he could put up on his own and they didn't last. More time slipped by and the Doctor thought that they'd made progress.
The Master let him think it. Was it his fault the other man was a fool to think he would ever be safe from him? Perhaps that they were in love like they once were as nothing much more than children? The drums were coming closer and closer, borne on an unnatural wind. Closer and closer-
There was a buzzing in his ears as everything rushed past as white noise before the other man's voice broke through the veil.
-and closer. They never stop.
"I was thinking we might go to-" It faded as his vision grayed and tunneled. tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap
He saw the Doctor's mouth still moving as he made his way round the TARDIS' console, pulling this lever and that. After all this time, after helping him for so long could he still not hear it?!
Closer. Closer. His hearts sped up as his anger grew. Rage at being the only one. Why did they choose him? He felt the cool metal of a blade he'd found on a world they visited some time ago. The Doctor had been too busy asking about some incident in government to notice his stealing it.
Koschei?
He gripped the handle tightly, blood pounding in his ears as the drums screamed to be sated. "Koschei." He hadn't realized the Doctor had called him the first time but his head snapped up on the second, eyes black with blood lust. He moved before the Doctor could react, plunging that blade deep into one heart, and watching the other Time Lord fully realize what had happened.
"My name, is Master." he hissed in one of the Doctor's ears as he wrenched the blade free. Ten gasped in shock and pain, blood staining his shirtfront black. Thin fingers gripped his forearms weakly as he tried to right himself but the Master only chuckled and held him fast.
"No escape this time." he purred. "The drums have to be sated." he whispers. "Who am I to refuse them?" he asked, sinking the blade into that other heart and relishing the TARDIS' scream in his mind as her Doctor died.
prompt: battlefield
words: 1093
A battlefield. A desolate wasteland of blood marred and muddy trenches that they've both stumbled through these long, lonely centuries. Time Lords can cheat death by regeneration and on more than one occasion he's sought to extend his own existence by stealing from another such as himself.
His own personal martyr, sacrificing himself needlessly for a Universe that will eventually just die. It was a waste of more than just time, it was a waste of potential, a waste of love.
Harold remembers what that emotion felt like but it's fading, just like the stars in the sky. The drums are calling now, louder in his mind as if they were a sentient thing that sensed his supreme agitation. What is love to the beating of the drums? Do they mimic a heartbeat? Could they mirror two? Could they encompass the wholly unique sound of two timeless individuals whose hearts once beat in sync with the others?
No. They are merely drums and the only use they have for a heart is for it's blood as it is silenced to slake the thirst of War.
For a brief moment he found himself blessed with utter silence in his mind. A few, fleeting seconds as he shuddered and died in the Doctor's arms, demanding only breaths before to know if they would ever stop. Had he still been alive, he might have cried. For the first time in centuries, his mind had been his own and the drums were no more.
Peace ended as abruptly as the calm in the eye of a hurricane and the darkness that crowded round after death gave way to the piercing, blinding light of life. A breath, another and then it came again, the drumming. The infernal din that he'd thought himself free of finally crashed into him like an unrelenting tide reducing him to clawing at his own ears in an attempt to rid himself of them once again. He dimly heard someone screaming and realized, after his throat was raw and hoarse from it that it had indeed been him. He never saw whoever or whatever had been foolish enough to pull him from oblivion but he was alone when he finally regained complete control of his senses.
Of course his return hadn't gone unnoticed, he was still a Time Lord as was the Doctor. The other man found him on the barren world where he'd been reborn and even in nothing but rags, that brash, cocky attitude he'd had before had come back as well.
"This is impossible."
"Such a harsh word, that." he mock pouted. "I would've thought fantastic was in order." he sauntered closer, his two hearts beating in tandem with the drums. "Or haven't you missed me?"
He was rewarded by a scrutinizing look from the Doctor as he looked him over. "You still hear them."
The Master backed down but it was slight and barely noticeable. "You expected something else?"
"I'd hoped you'd have peace."
"How quaint."
"I can help you."
Harold looked down at his bare, muddy feet then his soiled clothing, anything so that he didn't have to see the pity in the other man's eyes. His blood boiled under the surface of his skin. Don't pity me! he thought viciously and the drums sounded so loud that he thought his ears must be bleeding. What happened in the next moment threw him. He felt the TARDIS in his mind, offering what she had, helping like she did with any other companion that her Doctor embraced.
"Come with me." he offered with an outstretched hand.
"Can you make them stop? Can you...make me better?" A part of him was appalled that those words had come from his lips but he ignored it.
"I can try."
---
Despite obvious trepidation from both of them, the Doctor and the Master had grown closer, moving on a united front to find a way to stop the drums. Mental blocks helped but those weren't something he could put up on his own and they didn't last. More time slipped by and the Doctor thought that they'd made progress.
The Master let him think it. Was it his fault the other man was a fool to think he would ever be safe from him? Perhaps that they were in love like they once were as nothing much more than children? The drums were coming closer and closer, borne on an unnatural wind. Closer and closer-
There was a buzzing in his ears as everything rushed past as white noise before the other man's voice broke through the veil.
-and closer. They never stop.
"I was thinking we might go to-" It faded as his vision grayed and tunneled. tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap
He saw the Doctor's mouth still moving as he made his way round the TARDIS' console, pulling this lever and that. After all this time, after helping him for so long could he still not hear it?!
Closer. Closer. His hearts sped up as his anger grew. Rage at being the only one. Why did they choose him? He felt the cool metal of a blade he'd found on a world they visited some time ago. The Doctor had been too busy asking about some incident in government to notice his stealing it.
Koschei?
He gripped the handle tightly, blood pounding in his ears as the drums screamed to be sated. "Koschei." He hadn't realized the Doctor had called him the first time but his head snapped up on the second, eyes black with blood lust. He moved before the Doctor could react, plunging that blade deep into one heart, and watching the other Time Lord fully realize what had happened.
"My name, is Master." he hissed in one of the Doctor's ears as he wrenched the blade free. Ten gasped in shock and pain, blood staining his shirtfront black. Thin fingers gripped his forearms weakly as he tried to right himself but the Master only chuckled and held him fast.
"No escape this time." he purred. "The drums have to be sated." he whispers. "Who am I to refuse them?" he asked, sinking the blade into that other heart and relishing the TARDIS' scream in his mind as her Doctor died.
prompt: battlefield
words: 1093