championoftime -

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28 August 2011 @ 10:43 pm

[Log for Vasilia Aliena]

The Doctor was busily working in the TARDIS, ignoring the furry shape slinking along the floor behind him and trying to pull away a pair of pliers with all its might, when the strange urge overcame him that was hitting so many others simultaneously.

At first, dread hit with it. The last time he felt this way, the Time Lord flu struck him. It was the beginning of the couple of the worst two weeks in memory (yes, he hated it more than the death tolls for the simple fact that he hadn't known what was going on), but still he straightened himself out and staggered to the TARDIS door.

He left the Mongoose to slink around the console room, and headed out in the halls. He went in the direction that made him feel less like retching all over the floor, stopping occasionally to hold on his hat and catch his breath. He was nigh on exhausted when he reached Vasilia's door, knocking earnestly as he pulled out his fobwatch.

"What is this nonsense?" he muttered to himself.

[Private to Dallas | Text]

It seems that I'm going to be indisposed for the next few days. But if you need anything, I'll still find a way to be there.

How are you feeling now about what happened with David? [He saw that unfortunate start of a conversation in David's journal.

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no_fastolfe on August 29th, 2011 01:33 pm (UTC)

Vasilia was curled in bed-- feeling almost as vile as she had felt towards the end of her flu and yet unsure how or why this could be. The pills Martha gave her had worked; she had researched their efficacy. Why was she sick now?

Her first reaction to the knock on the door was to call out 'Go away; I'm indisposed.' But even as she said so, she felt a lessening of the nausea that gripped her.

She staggered to the door, glaring out blearily.

The man on the other side was a stranger, one she had only seen flashes of on the network. He was nearly of a height that she could look him directly in the eye; rare for her, she being rather shorter than average for a Spacer woman. He was not handsome. He reminded her slightly of Fastolfe in the awkward proportion of his face-- though not enough to trigger the wave of conflicted and negative emotions that that lauded individual inspired in her.

Most significant was that somehow her proximity to him made the pain that snarled in her gut fade away.

"What have you done?" she demanded suspiciously.

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championoftime on August 29th, 2011 08:00 pm (UTC)

The nausea dissipated almost as soon as the door had opened and- oh no. This was the person he'd seen arguing with Rex. And one of those that took the world entirely too seriously.

He blinked up at her.

"It's a flood." At least this time one he'd been through. "You have to stay close to someone until it wears off, or you're going to feel sick." The word sick was accompanied by an unpleasant nose wrinkle.

"It's not the most spectacular of occasions but at least one's allowed to retain their personality for the duration."

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no_fastolfe on August 29th, 2011 08:33 pm (UTC)

"Intolerable," Vasilia said, unconsciously mirroring his nose wrinkle. "I already endure the attentions of one warden by assignment. I refuse to be badgered by another simply because I am forced into proximity with him. Who are you?" She said imperiously, holding herself to her full height (which was to say, easily two inches shy of five and a half feet.)

And before he could answer, the morning's misery making her less patient and foregiving even then usual, "Well?"

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championoftime: 7.2 - so do you want to have lunch

championoftime on August 30th, 2011 12:20 am (UTC)

That was odd. Not her imperiousness, oh no. He was a Time Lord. There was more of that in his life than not. It was that she was the height of most of his recent female companions. Though considerably more declarative.

"I've gone through four inmates since being here, I'm not keen on the idea of changing again," he responded, standing to his full height as well because- how could he not?

"It's a flood. If you've issues, take them up with the Admiral. But refusing the situation will be very uncomfortable for the both of us."

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 01:05 am (UTC)

She crossed her arms. "I am Vasilia Aliena and I do not like this coercion. Again, who are you?"

Perhaps even she realized that it was unwise to blame the man for this; the journals were full of similar stories, there was no factor that would have spared her nor any evidence to incriminate him. But frustration without target was frustration that she did not know how to process; so she glared, balefully.

She was already sure that wherever he expected her to accompany him would be unpleasant and at her own expense. And yet-- not sure why.

Paranoid, mocked Sherlock's voice in her memory. Delusional.

Oh, today she hated everyone.

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championoftime on August 30th, 2011 01:20 am (UTC)

"Dr. John Smith." Introducing himself as the Doctor, for the time being, had become terribly inconvenient. Yet people usually still referred to him as the Doctor anyway.

He plucked his hat off in a brief greeting, though his expression changed little. She was obviously irritated and he was held in his slightly nervous and most confused to be here mindset that he couldn't quite shake.

"I'm not terribly fond of it, either! There's nothing quite so diverting, distracting, and downright disconcerting as having someone breathing down your neck while you're tending to important work. Believe me, I've done it to people before. So if we arrange our schedules we can try to be in one another's personal space as limitedly as possible and it'll be over in two shakes of a leg." No, wait, where did that go? Oh ignore it.

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 01:26 am (UTC)

A shake of a leg must be a measure of time. Idiomatically. But why would that be used to measure-?

"I was going to spend some time in the lab today," she said, chasing the ridiculous problem out of her mind. "I'm running a series of basic behavioral simulations. And where do you expect to go today?"

He seemed off his balance and that was disconcerting. It made her feel awkward, as if something about her, something unperceived, made her suitable to gape at. She lifted her shoulders up and back, squaring off against the entirely imagined disdain.

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championoftime on August 30th, 2011 01:43 am (UTC)

"I suppose I'm to be in the lab today, then." That's how the Doctor's schedule went. He just flew by the seat of his pants, or whatever expressions seemed to fit the moment.

He gave her room a passing glance, and then pulled out his journal to type something. A message to his inmate.

"If the infirmary requires me for an emergency, I'll have to go there as well."

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 01:46 am (UTC)

"The infirmary is acceptable," Vasilia said, lifting her chin. "Doctor Jones has proven able to ward me from infection even among the ill. But! Do not change your plans for me. I have no desire to be in your debt."

Sniff.

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championoftime on August 30th, 2011 02:02 am (UTC)

He gave her a faintly surprised look. "Oh, that's quite kind of you! But I don't make plans, I simply take them by surprise. You can carry on." He gave her a quick, approving look right before he went back to typing in his journal. And... sadly about to follow her, because he knew what would happen if he didn't.

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 02:04 am (UTC)

Hmmph. He was too obliging. He must have a hidden motive. Or be soft. There was something charming about him and she resented it; he seemed kind. She hadn't asked anyone to be kind to her.

"What field of medicine are you in?" she asked over her shoulder; for all that the tone befitted a judicial debriefing, it was more her bad-natured attempt at making conversation.

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championoftime on August 30th, 2011 02:13 am (UTC)

He knit up his brow and dropped his journal too easily into a fathomless pocket.

"I studied xenobiology for about 80 years at the Academy, but most of my classes were in thermodynamics. I'm a physician here because not all of the Barge's residents are human and I have certain psychic expertise that can be lent to mental healing." In direct contradiction to her request for information to be clinically analysed, through no real effort or intention, he delivered the statement conversationally.

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 02:19 am (UTC)

She paused quite suddenly, turning. "-then you aren't an Earther!"

The name had seemed so characteristic; many characters in trimensional dramatizations of Earth were named 'Smith', and the given name 'John' she was given to understand was extremely common.

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championoftime on August 30th, 2011 02:24 am (UTC)

"Who, me?" Yes you, you dolt! "Oh I've been to Earth a time or two, but I'm actually a Time Lord. A Gallifreyan. But don't use me as the standard by which to measure my race. I've been very boisterously and adamantly declared a renegade."

That "R" got an extra special roll, and a raise of brows with a quick, childish smile as punctuation. But then, right back to casual and away from that bout of boyishness that argued with his visible age.

"Earthers won't have me either, to my disappointment. It seems that they abhor my fashion sense."

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no_fastolfe on August 30th, 2011 02:55 am (UTC)

"I-- am not particularly adherent to fashion trends. Your clothing covers you and in doing so is sufficient," she said stiffly, because she had no eye for fashion and this had been a subject of humor more than once; she would be sleeveless at home only because she enjoyed the freedom of movement. But here, she prioritized not being touched much higher.

She gave him a long wary look. "Count Dracula told me that your people knew a great deal about metaphysics. He advised me to address my questions to the one with the large scarf and teeth. Do you know him?"