Going to have Eva free Eleven instead of VictoriamakeherblueDecember 11 2011, 03:07:36 UTC
"Eva?" The voice is surprisingly far away.
There's some scrabbling sounds like someone is trying to push through the brush and then a sigh, an impressed "these are really good knots, for a plant!", and then the Doctor tries to call Eva over again
( ... )
Eva goes for the most blunt solution.vissernoneDecember 11 2011, 09:08:43 UTC
Eva comes running, figuring that if the Doctor sounds a little worried and frustrating, odds are, the situation is at least a little bit dire. And as such, she can't help but chuckle to herself to find him all tied up
( ... )
Re: Eva goes for the most blunt solution.makeherblueDecember 11 2011, 11:15:43 UTC
The Doctor's eyes widen at the gun. It's an ugly thing in Eva's hands. "Of course I'm not ready!" He snaps.
He glares disapprovingly at the gun, tugs at the roots trapping him to the ground and aside from some more bruises, has to come to the conclusion that he isn't going to free himself without Eva's idea of help. This isn't quite what he had in mind when he thought of human ingenuity. This is bashing it with a stick crude. Maybe accurate bashing it with a stick but still! First assaulting the library (although to be fair, it did start it) and now being willing to shoot dangerously close to the bits and pieces of his new body he really did want to keep
( ... )
And see, if there were a stick to bash the roots with, she might have gone with that route too.
"Hold still." She narrows her eyes and stares down the little metal nubs that compose the sights - old-school technology, something mechanical and simple. Just metal and gunpowder. It's a relic of a bygone time, outdated, and as such she finds it a fitting companion.
She shoots accurately and in quick succession, sending bullets through the roots immobilizing his neck and wrists first.
"Start untying!" she yells as she pops back out of the tree, landing roughly on her feet. Her ankle twists some beneath her, but she stumbles forward towards the Doctor and starts ripping up the roots around his lower legs.
The Doctor flinches at the gunshots, his ears ringing.
He squeezes open an eye and he's actually rather surprised to see that he can move his hands and that yes, he can establish that he has all the bits he needs. Lovely. The Doctor wriggles his fingers and gets right to work trying to free himself, tugging at the roots and he thinks Eva is yelling something but all he can see is her mouth moving. No words. Just that and the ringing. That's what you get when you have a gun plus a Time Lord's senses. Not so good when put together
( ... )
It's a shame the Doctor's currently deafened. Eva's obviously making loads of incredibly witty and cutting remarks that he's missing. And of course, there are so many of them that she'll hardly remember them later to recite them.
Such a pity.
"Can you hear me now?" She takes a seat on the log, rubbing the ankle she injured in her dramatic and quite stylish rescue. "I'm sorry about the gun, by the way. I can tell you're not fond of them."
She tucks her back into its holster, under her jacket, but not before blowing imaginary smoke away from the barrel.
"I just assumed you'd rather spend as little time tied up and at the mercy of an evil bush as possible." Eva, personally, would have hated that. The Doctor's already seen her tendency to panic when restrained. Even now she's rolling her hand over her knee, hardly even realizing how wed she is to motion itself. "And I hardly believe that's filled your quota for excitement today."
The Doctor frowns at Eva, squinting at her as if squinting will suddenly make his hearing pop right back to normal (it can't hurt to try). "What?"
The reason he's squinting becomes apparent because as easy as it would be to pretend he can't hear her, the truth is he's had centuries to get, well, decent to excellent to amazing at several hobbies and apparently he's not too shabby at a bit of lip-reading. The Doctor stares at her mouth moving with one of those almost bird-like looks of his, eyes flicking down to her little tick with her knee, and then back up to her mouth. Eva's still talking. Chatty woman! Quite right about the gun. He's three fourths of a mind to tell her to throw the thing away since she'll only shoot her eye out one of these days.
But he supposes that library is still out there and if it's between the library and the gun, he'll have to let that one slide just this once.
"I'd hardly call that exciting!" The Doctor wraps his arms around himself as he stamps his feet in place. The ringing is slowly dying down,
( ... )
Eva doesn't follow him immediately, but she doesn't take her hand away either. As much as she respects the Doctor, their level of trust is still tenuous (mostly because he never tells her anything), and she has an instinctive reaction deep in the canals of her guts against being ordered around.
But, after a moment of staring at his hand as if it's some toothed thing about to bite her, she places her hand in his. "Alright. On one condition. And it's not a condition you'll much like."
She hoists herself off the log, gentle on her injured ankle and feeling, between the cold and the stress of the day, so very old. Bones pop like fireworks in her ears and joints creak like doors on untended, rusty hinges. Even her hands feel brittle and full of knuckles, more fist-like than dainty, in this ice and snow
( ... )
Conditions he won't like? The Doctor debates the merits of pretending he's suddenly more deaf than he is. But Eva's already on her feet, complaining about being as old-young as a human can get and he's just watching her, waiting for her to get on with it. He cracks an amused smile at her comment. Crone? To him, she's always going to be painfully young, even when she's withered and white-haired and hobbling around on those funny little walkers with the tennis balls (he supposes if you like that game, you might as well keep some tennis balls close to you. One of those just in case things). If it helps, he thinks she'd look marvelous with her very own set of tennis balls.
Oh Eva Salazar. Old. There's old and then there's Old. He's done Old, both physically and...all over. It's probably for the best she has a short lifespan, because sometimes the Doctor has the thought that maybe there's such a thing as living too long and he wouldn't wish it on a lovely person like Eva
( ... )
"Alright, so it isn't 'everything'. What isn't there, then? Knowing what I don't need to watch out for is almost as useful as knowing what to watch out for."
Her mouth crumples into a grimace at his command that she keeps close. She hates to rely on anyone. It makes her feel like an extension of someone else, and that's a feeling that mucks up her guts like charcoal. Disgusting. But that sense is soon washed over by concern for him. For once, he seems almost doddering.
Well, if she should be the one to lose her body, it's only poetic irony that his mind be swept away into his whimsies and distractions. For the second time that day, she reaches a hand out and ever so gently touches his wrist, the one leading to the hand wrapped around hers. She would never grab him, never try to restrain him - her holding on is only an attempt to keep up, and this gesture isn't about that.
"Take your time, Doc. Rushing yourself doesn't push the bad spirits out." She grins, a bit toothily. "Or the bad persons who'd sabotage the Tollbooth."
The Doctor turns slightly at her touch, as if remembering oh, right, human; Eva Salazar; the Woman Who Duels Libraries. One of his newer friends that he hasn't had the chance to pop in all over her timeline just yet. He peers at her as if for a split second he has trouble placing who she is, especially given how many friends he has over time and space and he does wonder how Ben is doing these days. He blinks, the fog from the Nothing Forest clearing again as he focuses on Eva. Present. She's the present. He literally hasn't seen Ben or Polly for centuries, so --
"It's not that easy." The Doctor sounds nettled. "Not just anyone can do this to the TARDIS. It's supposed to be interesting here, Eva. Not - not snow and there used to be goats grazing in that clearing over there, and over there should be a hot air balloon
( ... )
Eva's not quite sure what barometer the Doctor uses to determine 'interesting', given that they've already found a shoe tree and been attack by malevolent plants, but it's certainly not hers. She finds the entire forest rather interesting, but then again she lived in Southern California. Snow is relatively unusual to her
( ... )
The Doctor is downright delighted to see Eva taking to the dinghy more than the dumbwaiter. Lovely! He's happy to say that she has the intelligence to know a perfectly good boat when she saw one and she's not going to be one of those humans about it.
"Anywhere!" the Doctor says. He rubs his hands together as he balances on the bobbing dock they're standing on, seeming to get some of that old life back in him now that they're near the edge of the Nothing Forest and Eva's approving of his dinghy. Maybe it was a boredom project, not quite complete, but still. "If we head toward south, we might be able to land near the junkyard and that ought to lead back to the Zero Room
( ... )
'Anywhere' isn't quite the answer Eva wants to hear, as it's about as useful as the Doctor's response that she should watch out for anything, but her mood lifts as she steps onto the dinghy. Anywhere.Anywhere is freedom. A boat is freedom, just them and the currents, drifting, aimless, like puppets without strings. Maybe they can go to the junkyard, or maybe they can take some solace in the relative peace of the river, if it's to be found. And if not, adventure on the water appeals to Eva much more than adventure on land
( ... )
He busies himself with turning the brass screws and knobs on the mast. "No. Loads of things you haven't told me like your favorite color or even your favorite food
( ... )
"You didn't guess it was green?" Eva tends to wear green whenever she can. Today her shirt is a pale turquoise leaning more towards green than blue, and her hairclip is a green and gold leaf. She laughs. "Of course it's green. What other color would it be? Blue
( ... )
There's some scrabbling sounds like someone is trying to push through the brush and then a sigh, an impressed "these are really good knots, for a plant!", and then the Doctor tries to call Eva over again ( ... )
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He glares disapprovingly at the gun, tugs at the roots trapping him to the ground and aside from some more bruises, has to come to the conclusion that he isn't going to free himself without Eva's idea of help. This isn't quite what he had in mind when he thought of human ingenuity. This is bashing it with a stick crude. Maybe accurate bashing it with a stick but still! First assaulting the library (although to be fair, it did start it) and now being willing to shoot dangerously close to the bits and pieces of his new body he really did want to keep ( ... )
Reply
"Hold still." She narrows her eyes and stares down the little metal nubs that compose the sights - old-school technology, something mechanical and simple. Just metal and gunpowder. It's a relic of a bygone time, outdated, and as such she finds it a fitting companion.
She shoots accurately and in quick succession, sending bullets through the roots immobilizing his neck and wrists first.
"Start untying!" she yells as she pops back out of the tree, landing roughly on her feet. Her ankle twists some beneath her, but she stumbles forward towards the Doctor and starts ripping up the roots around his lower legs.
Reply
He squeezes open an eye and he's actually rather surprised to see that he can move his hands and that yes, he can establish that he has all the bits he needs. Lovely. The Doctor wriggles his fingers and gets right to work trying to free himself, tugging at the roots and he thinks Eva is yelling something but all he can see is her mouth moving. No words. Just that and the ringing. That's what you get when you have a gun plus a Time Lord's senses. Not so good when put together ( ... )
Reply
Such a pity.
"Can you hear me now?" She takes a seat on the log, rubbing the ankle she injured in her dramatic and quite stylish rescue. "I'm sorry about the gun, by the way. I can tell you're not fond of them."
She tucks her back into its holster, under her jacket, but not before blowing imaginary smoke away from the barrel.
"I just assumed you'd rather spend as little time tied up and at the mercy of an evil bush as possible." Eva, personally, would have hated that. The Doctor's already seen her tendency to panic when restrained. Even now she's rolling her hand over her knee, hardly even realizing how wed she is to motion itself. "And I hardly believe that's filled your quota for excitement today."
Reply
The reason he's squinting becomes apparent because as easy as it would be to pretend he can't hear her, the truth is he's had centuries to get, well, decent to excellent to amazing at several hobbies and apparently he's not too shabby at a bit of lip-reading. The Doctor stares at her mouth moving with one of those almost bird-like looks of his, eyes flicking down to her little tick with her knee, and then back up to her mouth. Eva's still talking. Chatty woman! Quite right about the gun. He's three fourths of a mind to tell her to throw the thing away since she'll only shoot her eye out one of these days.
But he supposes that library is still out there and if it's between the library and the gun, he'll have to let that one slide just this once.
"I'd hardly call that exciting!" The Doctor wraps his arms around himself as he stamps his feet in place. The ringing is slowly dying down, ( ... )
Reply
But, after a moment of staring at his hand as if it's some toothed thing about to bite her, she places her hand in his. "Alright. On one condition. And it's not a condition you'll much like."
She hoists herself off the log, gentle on her injured ankle and feeling, between the cold and the stress of the day, so very old. Bones pop like fireworks in her ears and joints creak like doors on untended, rusty hinges. Even her hands feel brittle and full of knuckles, more fist-like than dainty, in this ice and snow ( ... )
Reply
Oh Eva Salazar. Old. There's old and then there's Old. He's done Old, both physically and...all over. It's probably for the best she has a short lifespan, because sometimes the Doctor has the thought that maybe there's such a thing as living too long and he wouldn't wish it on a lovely person like Eva ( ... )
Reply
Her mouth crumples into a grimace at his command that she keeps close. She hates to rely on anyone. It makes her feel like an extension of someone else, and that's a feeling that mucks up her guts like charcoal. Disgusting. But that sense is soon washed over by concern for him. For once, he seems almost doddering.
Well, if she should be the one to lose her body, it's only poetic irony that his mind be swept away into his whimsies and distractions. For the second time that day, she reaches a hand out and ever so gently touches his wrist, the one leading to the hand wrapped around hers. She would never grab him, never try to restrain him - her holding on is only an attempt to keep up, and this gesture isn't about that.
"Take your time, Doc. Rushing yourself doesn't push the bad spirits out." She grins, a bit toothily. "Or the bad persons who'd sabotage the Tollbooth."
Reply
"It's not that easy." The Doctor sounds nettled. "Not just anyone can do this to the TARDIS. It's supposed to be interesting here, Eva. Not - not snow and there used to be goats grazing in that clearing over there, and over there should be a hot air balloon ( ... )
Reply
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"Anywhere!" the Doctor says. He rubs his hands together as he balances on the bobbing dock they're standing on, seeming to get some of that old life back in him now that they're near the edge of the Nothing Forest and Eva's approving of his dinghy. Maybe it was a boredom project, not quite complete, but still. "If we head toward south, we might be able to land near the junkyard and that ought to lead back to the Zero Room ( ... )
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