24 // [Video]
[The Master is lying sideways in his red plush TARDIS armchair, looking bored. At a rumbling sound, he looks up sharply, and around the side of the chair. On the other side of the control room, the extravagant double doors that ought to lead out of the TARDIS swing open, revealing a wall of dirt, that collapses and begins to flow into the room. Flailing slightly, he springs out of the chair, grabs his coat that is over the back of it, struggles it quickly on and runs over to the console. Grabbing something small and green off of it, he runs into the back rooms.
Thirty seconds pass.
He runs back out, followed by a sliding wave of dirt coming from the back rooms, and leaping through the dirt coming from the front door, makes it to the frame and grabs on to it, not letting himself get pushed back any more. One hand still holding the green thing, whatever it is, he spares a moment to look back into the control room, a rueful expression on his face, the dirt now waist-high. Tucking the green thing into the inner pocket of his jacket and buttoning it one-handedly, he begins to scoop dirt out of his way. As he gradually makes his way through the door, and then disappears onto the other side, the dirt rises to cover the screen and the picture goes black.
Then static-y.
Then switches to a close-up of a grave plot. City Graveyard. A minute passes. Then two.
Halfway through the third minute, when the average person is thinking that maybe now is time to switch to a different video feed, there's a shifting of dirt. Then, a hand digs its way free, like a zombie movie, only not as dramatic, as the owner of the hand sneezes directly after. The hand clears a bigger hole and is joined by another one and gradually, on a slight diagonal slant, a tired, dirt-covered Master pulls himself from the hole. On the ground, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, he spits some dirt out of his mouth, and then closes his eyes to shake a bit of it out of his hair. He sinks back onto his haunches, and then quickly unbuttons his jacket and reaches a hand into it, removing his hand shortly after and looking slightly relieved. Then, for the first time after coming out of the ground, he takes a deep breath, and then looks directly at the screen. Pushing himself up, he stands, walks over, and picks up what turns out to be his Network Device. He checks it to see that it's on, and then gives it a bit of a sarcastic look.]
I'm beginning to think that the City has some sort of vendetta against my clothing. This is the second outfit it's completely ruined.
[He smirks, and then turns it off.]
[ooc: The info page says midnight. But Sabine said NOW. So here it is. This curse is like a cakewalk for someone with a respiratory bypass. Oh Time Lords. You are such Mary Sues.]
Thirty seconds pass.
He runs back out, followed by a sliding wave of dirt coming from the back rooms, and leaping through the dirt coming from the front door, makes it to the frame and grabs on to it, not letting himself get pushed back any more. One hand still holding the green thing, whatever it is, he spares a moment to look back into the control room, a rueful expression on his face, the dirt now waist-high. Tucking the green thing into the inner pocket of his jacket and buttoning it one-handedly, he begins to scoop dirt out of his way. As he gradually makes his way through the door, and then disappears onto the other side, the dirt rises to cover the screen and the picture goes black.
Then static-y.
Then switches to a close-up of a grave plot. City Graveyard. A minute passes. Then two.
Halfway through the third minute, when the average person is thinking that maybe now is time to switch to a different video feed, there's a shifting of dirt. Then, a hand digs its way free, like a zombie movie, only not as dramatic, as the owner of the hand sneezes directly after. The hand clears a bigger hole and is joined by another one and gradually, on a slight diagonal slant, a tired, dirt-covered Master pulls himself from the hole. On the ground, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, he spits some dirt out of his mouth, and then closes his eyes to shake a bit of it out of his hair. He sinks back onto his haunches, and then quickly unbuttons his jacket and reaches a hand into it, removing his hand shortly after and looking slightly relieved. Then, for the first time after coming out of the ground, he takes a deep breath, and then looks directly at the screen. Pushing himself up, he stands, walks over, and picks up what turns out to be his Network Device. He checks it to see that it's on, and then gives it a bit of a sarcastic look.]
I'm beginning to think that the City has some sort of vendetta against my clothing. This is the second outfit it's completely ruined.
[He smirks, and then turns it off.]
[ooc: The info page says midnight. But Sabine said NOW. So here it is. This curse is like a cakewalk for someone with a respiratory bypass. Oh Time Lords. You are such Mary Sues.]