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[championoftime]

[There's a strange man in Time Lord robes roaming the halls. He's been watching conversations and following along, taking in what's happening. But he doesn't want to intrude. He knows that for some reason that he shouldn't.

However, more than one psychic presence has coaxed him out of his room, away from the irritated TARDIS that's very familiar to him (she doesn't like this psychic aggression, she doesn't like it at all). And now he's trying to keep track of where the most damage is.]

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[shortsghtedlove.livejournal.com]

[Oh no, you don't- Wait, what?] How was it not leaving me?

[championoftime]

[He only slows for half a step.] I chose the Looms. I would always be a part of the people. Unless you took the time to scrub my DNA out of them.

Or, I suppose, if the world's gone. [He has a feeling this won't feel good at all. But he can't think of a place he'd rather go. Not even the Matrix.] Please excuse me, Lord President. I need some time to myself. [He's taking being erased from history surprisingly well. Or rather, perhaps it's a serence sense of detachment.]

What is it with me and HTML today :|

[shortsghtedlove.livejournal.com]

That still means you're gone. [Rassilon does not appreciate being symbolic when it comes to things like these.]

There's a celebration on your death day. [He's not sure if the other heard that, but he doesn't feel like repeating it. He's got things to think about.]