championoftime (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
championoftime) wrote2011-05-06 08:36 pm
championoftime) wrote2011-05-06 08:36 pm
[Video]
[Public]
[And here is the Doctor, looking contrite. He has his journal propped up unevenly, and he's draped and covered in criss-crossing cords and wires and he's not looking at it. He's barely even in the frame. It's more like he hit the first button to turn it on (which happened to be video) rather than actually was going out of his way to give a presentation.] My first inmate here was a terrible man. Most of you remember him, or at least are familiar with his name. The Joker, he called himself. He liked to do terrible things to see how far that he could drive people. Some absolutely claimed that he couldn't be redeemed. [He rolls the "r" for redeemed, and then grunts as he tights something.]
He was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty for no other purpose than to inspire a reaction, his attachments formed in malice and obsession with little fond emotion behind them. But I enjoyed being his warden, I can admit that now. Not because I approved of him or his ideals, but because it gave me a sense of purpose. I was doing something wonderful in attempting to control what was practically the human personification of disaster. It was as though I was presented with every dark and terrible thing about mankind and told that there was the most slim of chances that I buried under all of that destruction and careless hostility and chaotic resistance to empathy and told somewhere under all of that there was the slim chance of a shred of decency. If I could muster a grain of respect from the maniacal madman I had done the world some good. It wasn't my fault that he was here, but I could put genuine effort into stopping and guarding over him.
[He stops to look at something. Stares at it as if he's attempting to bore a hole through it.] I think I broke it- [And on he goes.] In any case, my second inmate was Persephone. What was good had been obvious from the start when she came. Somewhere along the line, this place did to her as it does to many. It corrupted her. It drove her to distraction and when she was placed under the greatest of strains circumstances broke her. She wasn't all that terrible, just a bit misguided and changed as a bad season would change the environment.
I couldn't quite tell you why precisely. Perhaps it was all the times that Death laughed in my face, literally, and mocked taking those that I loved. The times the Gods of Ragnarok- not yours, Loki -but the times they entertained themselves with the suffering of humans as if they were little more than ants. Or Fenric, feeding on evil since the dawn of all things. The Scourge, devouring on fear and twisting victims on their side of the void. It frustrated me to see what could potentially lead to that, no knowing how someone as inhuman as I could give her a greater appreciation for human life. In the end, I simply couldn't manage as a warden in relating to her.
[He turns to adjust the volume and then squints at the screen.] Oh, I had the video on. As I was saying, though, I owe it to her and her warden to say that I didn't choose not to warden her any longer because she was terrible or salvageable or unworthy of my efforts, especially when I was willing to stand by my previous charge through his monstrous behaviour. Simply that a human would be more fitting than a very old man who suffered so long at the hands of gods. So, to Persephone, you've my apologies and best wishes. [He gives a little wave, before switching the feed.]
[Private to Buffy]
Have you had a chance to give some thought to my proposal?
[Private to Dallas]
I saw that you've had concerns with a new arrival. Do you want to talk?
[Private to Tim]
How did that extra hour go?
[Private to Narvin.]
Pub. Now. Don't forget your shoes.
[And here is the Doctor, looking contrite. He has his journal propped up unevenly, and he's draped and covered in criss-crossing cords and wires and he's not looking at it. He's barely even in the frame. It's more like he hit the first button to turn it on (which happened to be video) rather than actually was going out of his way to give a presentation.] My first inmate here was a terrible man. Most of you remember him, or at least are familiar with his name. The Joker, he called himself. He liked to do terrible things to see how far that he could drive people. Some absolutely claimed that he couldn't be redeemed. [He rolls the "r" for redeemed, and then grunts as he tights something.]
He was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty for no other purpose than to inspire a reaction, his attachments formed in malice and obsession with little fond emotion behind them. But I enjoyed being his warden, I can admit that now. Not because I approved of him or his ideals, but because it gave me a sense of purpose. I was doing something wonderful in attempting to control what was practically the human personification of disaster. It was as though I was presented with every dark and terrible thing about mankind and told that there was the most slim of chances that I buried under all of that destruction and careless hostility and chaotic resistance to empathy and told somewhere under all of that there was the slim chance of a shred of decency. If I could muster a grain of respect from the maniacal madman I had done the world some good. It wasn't my fault that he was here, but I could put genuine effort into stopping and guarding over him.
[He stops to look at something. Stares at it as if he's attempting to bore a hole through it.] I think I broke it- [And on he goes.] In any case, my second inmate was Persephone. What was good had been obvious from the start when she came. Somewhere along the line, this place did to her as it does to many. It corrupted her. It drove her to distraction and when she was placed under the greatest of strains circumstances broke her. She wasn't all that terrible, just a bit misguided and changed as a bad season would change the environment.
I couldn't quite tell you why precisely. Perhaps it was all the times that Death laughed in my face, literally, and mocked taking those that I loved. The times the Gods of Ragnarok- not yours, Loki -but the times they entertained themselves with the suffering of humans as if they were little more than ants. Or Fenric, feeding on evil since the dawn of all things. The Scourge, devouring on fear and twisting victims on their side of the void. It frustrated me to see what could potentially lead to that, no knowing how someone as inhuman as I could give her a greater appreciation for human life. In the end, I simply couldn't manage as a warden in relating to her.
[He turns to adjust the volume and then squints at the screen.] Oh, I had the video on. As I was saying, though, I owe it to her and her warden to say that I didn't choose not to warden her any longer because she was terrible or salvageable or unworthy of my efforts, especially when I was willing to stand by my previous charge through his monstrous behaviour. Simply that a human would be more fitting than a very old man who suffered so long at the hands of gods. So, to Persephone, you've my apologies and best wishes. [He gives a little wave, before switching the feed.]
[Private to Buffy]
Have you had a chance to give some thought to my proposal?
[Private to Dallas]
I saw that you've had concerns with a new arrival. Do you want to talk?
[Private to Tim]
How did that extra hour go?
[Private to Narvin.]
Pub. Now. Don't forget your shoes.
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I can't go with him until Gallifrey is safe. Or until I've lost all hope of saving it. It's a bit of a bind, isn't it? A strike against the optimists of the universe. I either give up hope of my planet and my people having a happy ending or I give up hope of my happy ending. Or I somehow miraculously save a doomed race. [Although damned if he knows how to do that.]
And what, other than your guilt, prevents your supposed happy ending?
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[He took the bottle of brandy to pour himself another drink.] Save individuals, Narvin. You'll make more progress. [Because the planet is doomed. In so many timelines its doomed.] Speaking of which, it seems like your inmate is having some difficulties.
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The obvious solution to your dilemma is to get yourself killed while doing something suitably heroic and compassionate and foolish--as you do--while your relationship with a companion is at its strongest. Go out on a relationship high note, in effect. [Narvin sometimes has a dark sense of humour. He takes another drink, a longer one this time. Finishes the glass and pours himself another.]
My inmate. Yes. He had his heart set on me running the library. He thinks that I'm the only person capable of the appropriate amount of cultural understanding to give him the freedom to take proper care of the books. Which, although I'm pleased that he trusts me and that we've managed to get along well, I can't stop thinking that the whole situation is a bit ironic since generally the CIA "understands" alien cultures only so it can infiltrate or undermine them.
I've also started to wonder if part of the reason I like him is something more sinister than I realized. If I'm right, it's as much a condemnation of myself as it is him.
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[He folds his hands over his glass.] Oh, what's so sinister about you liking him?
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[Narvin stares at the Doctor with a furrowed brow at his description of a happy ending.]
What does the time of day or solar position or whatever it is have to do with a happy ending?
[He takes another sip of brandy and a page from Braxiatel's book of "How to Avoid Giving Direct Answers to Direct Questions."]
You met Inquisitor Darkel on Space Station Zenobia in your last incarnation. [Narvin says it as a sure fact. He was a high ranking agent by then and the CIA had their fingers all over that trial.] What did you make of her?
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I don't think anyone's ever classified my company as "polite" before.
She had extensive knowledge of the law and was utterly devoted to the old traditions. She was also duplicitous, arrogant, and xenophobic.
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Have you any idea how to point out that his behaviour might have been destructive?
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[He pauses, takes another sip, and changes the subject (a little).]
I've decided that humans are a tolerable race. [He says this solemnly. It only took six months of sleeping with one to come to this conclusion and be able to admit it to himself. Baby steps.]
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[He tilts his head at Narvin.] A very probable way to win, if you consider the trails of consequence, with the sacrifice of a single human. But you wouldn't do that, would you? And should you? No. If we can't even choose our Presidents without a dependency on nostalgia and without a shred of true practicality, from our own stock, do we really deserve to win that war? Would it be worth it?
How would Ardent's characteristics, as they are, affect his world? We already know what he's capable of aboard the Barge.
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The CIA could easily falsify a past, but the chameleon arch would destroy the human personality and all his previous memories. I'd sooner declare myself Imperator. But winning a war is never about who deserves it, but who's strongest and most ruthless. It's difficult to be more ruthless than the Daleks and believe me, we tried.
[Talking about Ardent is easier than talking about Gallifrey.]
In his own world, I think Ardent would prevent his people from progressing. They would continue to define themselves according to a historical lie.
[He sighs. His cheeks are warm from the brandy.]
Why did you ask me to come here? I doubt it was to talk about Ardent or Gallifrey all night.
[Spam]
And then.] We needed to discuss Arthas. And I wanted to apologize for the me that wasn't me but made me very uncomfortable. And I wanted someone to- [He makes a vague motion with his hands, just sort of around him.]
[Spam]
I consider everything that happened last week essentially an alternate time line that has no bearing whatsoever on who we are. [He smirks evilly.] Otherwise, you asking me out for a drink might have given me the wrong impression.
Yes, Arthas. What's your plan? I can't imagine you'd let an opportunity like that slide--full access to his mind--without taking at least a little bit of advantage. Perhaps plant a hypnotic suggestion that he lead a peaceful life for the remainder of his existence? For his own good, of course.
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[Spam] I keep reading that "Ain't no founder". I'm reading Narvin in hickspeak oh god!
[Spam] Hey, maybe during the Western breach?
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Resistance to and recognition of suggestion and being quieted for manipulation are the two things that are going to be most important to learn. After that, most entities would merely pass him by for an easier, less cognizant mark.
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