But I'm not up in the castle, honey.
Characters: The Master & The Doctor
Rating: Oh, look. Rocks.
Status: Closed
Date: Present
Location: The grotto
It had been a sort of forever. The kind where your internal clock either ran sempiternal or didn't run at all. It was unsettling, tormenting, and especially... it was... annoying. One long looping tape of darkness and drumming. That was until the sun rose again, pouring through the dark places and making everything real again.
Everything still here, the whole mess.
Grotto walls. Grotto ceiling. Grotto fountain. Grotto bowling ball. Grotto locked gate...
The Doctor shifted his weight, back from one uncomfortable seated position to another; taking the grotto in again, the staleness gone and redrawn in light -- and maybe this time someone drew him a door, or at least a door knob.
Before the first edge of morning light had crept off the cave floor, the Doctor was on his feet again; hurrying back and forth as if it could die at any moment. He inspected every inch thoroughly, and would have done it again in thou. Except someone stole his sonic screwdriver and it was terribly hard to test for structural weakness via vibrational resonance with a pair of non-sonic spectacles.
He piled rocks high in a corner, trying to tower them up to a particularly cracked piece of ceiling. The bruises, and cuts he had gathered during the collapse were healing rapidly and besides a stiffness of joints that came from a self-induced lethargy; the Doctor felt better than he had all week. His rock tower, however, was looking a little shabby.
Failing that, he resorted again to physics -- or how much force will it take to break open a steel lock with a rock. Apparently the answer was... something more than this and he moved on.
Then the light began to creep up the grotto wall, and he was tired of all the struggling without hope and sat to rest against the pounding in his head. At first the drums were a source of anxiety, until that was all there was and he grew to enjoy them. Like the comforting constant idle of a machine's engine.
Like the hum of a TARDIS.
And in that rhythm the Doctor sunk back into sleep... while a shifting up above began cutting into his senses -- bleeding them out. Until the very lack of them raised tingles through the hairs on his arms. He waned back against the wall, eyes wide and fixed staring at the ceiling. Someone was up there. Digging down to reach him.
(http://community.livejournal.com/nonevidence/93862.html)
Rating: Oh, look. Rocks.
Status: Closed
Date: Present
Location: The grotto
It had been a sort of forever. The kind where your internal clock either ran sempiternal or didn't run at all. It was unsettling, tormenting, and especially... it was... annoying. One long looping tape of darkness and drumming. That was until the sun rose again, pouring through the dark places and making everything real again.
Everything still here, the whole mess.
Grotto walls. Grotto ceiling. Grotto fountain. Grotto bowling ball. Grotto locked gate...
The Doctor shifted his weight, back from one uncomfortable seated position to another; taking the grotto in again, the staleness gone and redrawn in light -- and maybe this time someone drew him a door, or at least a door knob.
Before the first edge of morning light had crept off the cave floor, the Doctor was on his feet again; hurrying back and forth as if it could die at any moment. He inspected every inch thoroughly, and would have done it again in thou. Except someone stole his sonic screwdriver and it was terribly hard to test for structural weakness via vibrational resonance with a pair of non-sonic spectacles.
He piled rocks high in a corner, trying to tower them up to a particularly cracked piece of ceiling. The bruises, and cuts he had gathered during the collapse were healing rapidly and besides a stiffness of joints that came from a self-induced lethargy; the Doctor felt better than he had all week. His rock tower, however, was looking a little shabby.
Failing that, he resorted again to physics -- or how much force will it take to break open a steel lock with a rock. Apparently the answer was... something more than this and he moved on.
Then the light began to creep up the grotto wall, and he was tired of all the struggling without hope and sat to rest against the pounding in his head. At first the drums were a source of anxiety, until that was all there was and he grew to enjoy them. Like the comforting constant idle of a machine's engine.
Like the hum of a TARDIS.
And in that rhythm the Doctor sunk back into sleep... while a shifting up above began cutting into his senses -- bleeding them out. Until the very lack of them raised tingles through the hairs on his arms. He waned back against the wall, eyes wide and fixed staring at the ceiling. Someone was up there. Digging down to reach him.
(http://community.livejournal.com/nonevidence/93862.html)