subtleties that we are not aware of
[the Doctor made his return to the castle proper fairly quietly, without fanfare or much pretense. talking to Griffith while he was out there yielded very little information, so he hung back a little longer, listening to the fallout through the journals, seeing who has healed, and how much, in as many senses as possible.
when he reaches Room 1102, he's almost hesitant to approach his TARDIS, unsure if she's healed properly, or if she's ready for his company. sometimes, even healed wounds need to rest. but when he puts a hand to the door, it yields and opens slightly at his touch. he's aware of a feeling without words - to give words to it would make the TARDIS far too human, and she's much more complicated than something as simple as 'relief' or 'welcoming' - and smiles slightly, holding his breath as he steps inside.
the white roundels and stark, simple console are gone, having been replaced by vaulted support arches, decadent Oriental rugs on the floor, and bookshelves. rows and rows of bookshelves, as though the TARDIS had somehow merged the console room and the library, so that his castle companions who enjoy rifling through his collection will not have to lose themselves in the twist of hallways. a semi-circle of comfortable chairs stands in the far corner, with a low table for tea - or for putting feet on.
he breathes out, slowly and reverently, and reaches out to put a hand on one of those supports]
You've outdone yourself, this time, old girl.
[settling into one of the chairs, he clears his throat, and takes out his journal]
[Friends, Companions, & Defenders of the TARDII]
My TARDIS has finally recovered from the attacks. I'm sure she'd appreciate a visit from all of you as much as I would.
[/filter]
[Crowley]
[he's trying to sound as casual as possible about this, he really is, but ... he can't help but still sound a little annoyed, despite himself] I've heard plenty of versions of things, enough to know the basic nature of what happened to all of you. But ... I'd still like to hear yours.
[/Filter]
when he reaches Room 1102, he's almost hesitant to approach his TARDIS, unsure if she's healed properly, or if she's ready for his company. sometimes, even healed wounds need to rest. but when he puts a hand to the door, it yields and opens slightly at his touch. he's aware of a feeling without words - to give words to it would make the TARDIS far too human, and she's much more complicated than something as simple as 'relief' or 'welcoming' - and smiles slightly, holding his breath as he steps inside.
the white roundels and stark, simple console are gone, having been replaced by vaulted support arches, decadent Oriental rugs on the floor, and bookshelves. rows and rows of bookshelves, as though the TARDIS had somehow merged the console room and the library, so that his castle companions who enjoy rifling through his collection will not have to lose themselves in the twist of hallways. a semi-circle of comfortable chairs stands in the far corner, with a low table for tea - or for putting feet on.
he breathes out, slowly and reverently, and reaches out to put a hand on one of those supports]
You've outdone yourself, this time, old girl.
[settling into one of the chairs, he clears his throat, and takes out his journal]
[Friends, Companions, & Defenders of the TARDII]
My TARDIS has finally recovered from the attacks. I'm sure she'd appreciate a visit from all of you as much as I would.
[/filter]
[Crowley]
[he's trying to sound as casual as possible about this, he really is, but ... he can't help but still sound a little annoyed, despite himself] I've heard plenty of versions of things, enough to know the basic nature of what happened to all of you. But ... I'd still like to hear yours.
[/Filter]