theatrical_muse: control
Control.
I can feel his breath, the quiet shift as his lungs demand a rapid exchange of oxygen, the fear burgeoning in his eyes now disseminating through his stiffening body. He is a warrior, capable of presenting a veneer of complacency, indifference, arrogance.
But I am the magician.
The Doctor.
The Professor. Not the Prof--
Yes, the Professor. For her.
The horizon swallowed in darkness, holding light.
Merlin.
If I can move minutes with the tips of my fingers, surely it would be just as easy, just as swift and silent, to push Mordred's last breath back, to keep his life from persisting. If he can command the death of others, of her, of Ace, should his eyes know peace from fear?
Because I can--
Just a movement, a parting of the air, and his sword will sever his own head.
Would you do it, Doctor?
His eyes flicker again, more palpably fearful.
Will her heart have stopped before I get there?
Is it slowing now?
A centimeter. A slight jerk to the right.
The darkness you've always feared is the one you could lose your hearts to, if you stopped for just a moment; the one no one else should ever see.
If I can hold back time--
It won't save her.
But the silence will be merciless, and the breaths I deny this human will be one more thing I can never forgive myself for.
But that it might temper your anger, for just a second--that is what you fear.
I haven't slept in years.
Muse: Seventh Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 239
OOC: This is quite a bit different from what I normally write--my attempt at a stream-of-consciousness from the Doctor's POV, taking place during the scene in "Battlefield" when Seven scares the bejeebus out of me as he threatens to 'decapitate' Mordred.
I can feel his breath, the quiet shift as his lungs demand a rapid exchange of oxygen, the fear burgeoning in his eyes now disseminating through his stiffening body. He is a warrior, capable of presenting a veneer of complacency, indifference, arrogance.
But I am the magician.
The Doctor.
The Professor. Not the Prof--
Yes, the Professor. For her.
The horizon swallowed in darkness, holding light.
Merlin.
If I can move minutes with the tips of my fingers, surely it would be just as easy, just as swift and silent, to push Mordred's last breath back, to keep his life from persisting. If he can command the death of others, of her, of Ace, should his eyes know peace from fear?
Because I can--
Just a movement, a parting of the air, and his sword will sever his own head.
Would you do it, Doctor?
His eyes flicker again, more palpably fearful.
Will her heart have stopped before I get there?
Is it slowing now?
A centimeter. A slight jerk to the right.
The darkness you've always feared is the one you could lose your hearts to, if you stopped for just a moment; the one no one else should ever see.
If I can hold back time--
It won't save her.
But the silence will be merciless, and the breaths I deny this human will be one more thing I can never forgive myself for.
But that it might temper your anger, for just a second--that is what you fear.
I haven't slept in years.
Muse: Seventh Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 239
OOC: This is quite a bit different from what I normally write--my attempt at a stream-of-consciousness from the Doctor's POV, taking place during the scene in "Battlefield" when Seven scares the bejeebus out of me as he threatens to 'decapitate' Mordred.