asgardeventide | day 504; video;

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day 504; video;

[There’s a close-up of an eye first, topped by a bushy eyebrow, and then the image pulls back to reveal the stern-looking face of an older man. When he speaks, it’s brisk, with a Scottish accent.]

Interesting communication device you’ve got there, definitely not like any technology I recognise. It obviously broadcasts a signal - or else I’m talking to myself, which is one of the signs of a severely disturbed mind - but how? And, more importantly, to whom?

What I’m really interested in here, though, is how you’ve managed to muck around with my biology. I’ve been human once or twice, but the change involved is a bit complicated and messy. Here I am, though, human again, no scars, all my memories intact, and I’d quite like to know how you’ve done it.

[A pause, and then he narrows his gaze.]

And then I’d like you to change me back.

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Well, where've you got the kettle on? Seems to me that'd make the most sense, though I suppose it might be cold by the time we get back there anyway.

Home's where the kettle is. [That sounds like it ought to be stitched on a pillow.] And it'll stay warm for a good while. Nothing's really all that far and I can always heat it back up again while you look through the teas.

[Her laugh is bright.]

Your fourth and eighth selves live here, plus your eleventh across the way, Clara and Jamie, are there, too. Tea is forever plentiful and quite varied.

[And there he is. Ril is tiny, at four feet, eleven inches, so when she comes to a stop in front of him, it's to give him a proper look, which is about a good foot or so upward. She even walks around him before she's back in front of him to peer up at his face.

Still her Doctor. The face might change, but his eyes are always him. Always, always.]

Hello, you. [Her voice is soft and her smile lights up her whole face.]

[Welp. That sure is someone he only just met staring at him. A lot.]

...Should I get you a ladder?

[He tilts his head down slightly to study her as she walks around him. She certainly seems more than familiar with him - which makes sense, if he's had so many other selves in Asgard - but it's a bit awkward on his side of things, since he's only just met her. Still, there's a slight easing of tension in his frame when he mentions Clara - not that he wants her to be in the middle of a war, but at the same time, he's glad to have someone of his own here as a familiar frame of reference.

...which still doesn't give him the foggiest idea of how to deal with Ril. He tries a small smile, hopefully of the friendly and not frightening small children variety.]

Er, hello? Hello again, that is, although I don't think I said it the first time. I sort of like to skip over the dull bits of conversation.

Hellos are dull? Tch. Different meeting someone in video than in person. Different hellos. [Her expression is wide open, easy to read, and she is just simmering with joy.]

A ladder might be nice. You've gone up an inch at least. [It makes him the same height as his sixth and ninth selves and she wonders how many of him are the same height. After a moment, she nods.]

You did a fantastic job with the eyebrows, mind.

[She rocks back on her heels a little after a touch of silence. When she speaks, her voice is almost a hum.]

I like your face, it's a good face.

Oh, you know, all those extraneous bits of polite conversation that aren't about me. [He waves a hand vaguely.] Hello, goodbye, how are you, dull human things like that. Always best to get straight to the point.

[...not that he doesn't tune that out, too. Look, he gets bored easily.]

Do you? I found it somewhere, but I can't remember where. I've never had a face I've recognised before, it's quite unsettling. I don't think I like it. I mean, the face is all right, it's just someone else's.

[That sounds like his sixth self. So much so that she looks away for a moment to quietly stifle the completely inappropriate stab of emotion and lets out a breath. But she's back a tick later, because you can't say "I nearly married you" to a new face. It's too much and she knows she's always too much. And it's fine. He's fine and she's fine and there's tea to be had and a new him to get to know. Really, there. Hush.

Her chin tilts a little as his words pull her back properly.]

There's a reason for your face. [She shakes her head.] Maybe you haven't lived it yet and the reason's still waiting for you to find it. [Ril tugs gently at the hem of his jacket.] You'll find the answers you need, Doctor. That chase is never boring.

[He can tell there's something about Ril for just a flash, but he doesn't want to pry, and, well, he's pretty sure he's not terribly good with emotions this time around, and what if she starts crying? He definitely doesn't know what to do with crying girls. So best to just leave the elephant in the room alone for the time being.]

Right! Tea. Let's go have a nice cup of tea, and you can fill me in more on this place, yeah? I'm sure the lovely maid was terribly informative, but, well...I didn't pay much attention to her. Never trust someone without a face. You can't look them in the eyes to see what they're thinking.

[She's pretty much leaving it alone, too. God gods, she doesn't need that cropping up and it's not at all his fault. Everything's a distraction and she runs with it.]

Tea, yes. Perfect. [She gestures, moving at an easy pace. It's always better when she's moving these days.] Mm, the maid will never cease to be a bit off. Asgard is strange, for one. And if you're in Loki's house, you'll either be telepathic or telekinetic. Your fourth self's got telepathy, so you know.

[She glances up at him briefly as they walk.]

I'm in Sigyn, so I'm a healer. Your eleventh and eighth selves are healers as well, which comes in handy entirely too much since both houses get into trouble more often than not. [Her expression is wry.] You ought to know how much trouble you are.

[Oh, whoops, he's starting to tune Ril out, too. This is really going to be problematic in this regeneration, isn't it? Well, problematic for other people, that is; the Doctor seems to be quite content with not paying attention to things that aren't about himself.]

Me? Nah, hardly any trouble at all. I'm like a mouse, I am.

[Yes, he actually says that with a straight face, though his tone is dry enough that he's obviously joking.]

[He does get another smile at that, and bravo on the straight face.]

If you weren't any trouble, you might bore yourself to death, not to mention that it's just not...you.

[She tilts a curious glance at him.]

Doctor, I do have a question.

[There's a touch of silence.]

...what is a mouse?

A mouse?

[He raises an amused eyebrow at her before slipping into Scots for a quote.]

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, / O, what a panic's in thy breastie!

[Aaaand back to the normal accent.] Or, to be more precise and less poetic, a small rodent often found just about anywhere on Earth.

[Rodent, rodent, rode-- Wait, wait, wait. No. Maybe not. She squints a little at him. Words are forever difficult as are their corresponding animal classifications. Between species? Completely different.]

...does it make a funny sound? Like this? [Ril lets out a series of tiny squeaking duckling sounds, which are perfectly dead on.] A small little thing, yellow, yes?

[...what. What are you even, Ril.]

No, that would be a baby duck. Mice are mammals, usually associated with eating cheese.

Baby duck? Yes, right. Duck, hm. [She files that away for future reference and then sighs, shaking her head.]

Perhaps I need to see one properly. [She clasps her hands behind her back and if ever there was an owlish look, she was definitely giving it.] There are many, many tiny mammals in the various universes that like this cheese thing. Or so I gather.

Edited 2014-09-07 04:07 (UTC)

We'll find a book at the house, yeah? I'm sure someone's got to have a book with pictures of animals.

And possibly introduce you to cheese. You are familiar with cheese, aren't you?

[He's giving her a look that says that she'd better be. Cheese is very important to modern British cuisine, though not as important as it is in other Earth cultures.]

Cheese, yes! I've had cheese before and it's quite delicious. There are so many kinds - the recipe books and the like I've found says so. I have seen those things that make it, too. The large animals that make, what is it?

[She frowns a little.]

Milk. Yes. Cows! Strange creatures, if tasty.

[She hums thoughtfully.]

Cheese is milk made solid, no? That is something I've yet to do. Perhaps I should try. Have you not made cheese out of milk?

No, I usually buy it from a shop.

[Or the TARDIS synthesises it, but, you know, same difference. ~~Also he's not usually the one doing any food purchasing, that's typically a job for hapless companions.~~

He glances around at their surroundings. Sorry, Ril, you're nice and all, but his attention span is really short, and so he asks the same question favoured by small children throughout the multiverse.]

Are we nearly there?

[Yep. Totally acting his age.]

[His answer gets a nod and a tug of a smile. Perhaps she'd make it herself one day, if there was time.]

Nearly, yes.

[They're two doors down, really, and once they get to Thor 104, she gestures.]

Up the steps, Time Lord.

[She pops ahead of him, leaving the door open and can hear Brax the cat letting out his usual greeting as he runs in to wind himself around her ankles. He paws at her for a moment and heads towards his food dish.]

Tch, Brax, you've been fed and shan't get any until dinner. Don't you beg at me, neither. I'm not giving in this time.

[Ril puts the kettle back on and starts pulling out tea for him to look through. There's an awful lot of it and one marked 'do not consume' which she puts away into the very back of the cupboard. Most of them are blends and several are marked specifically for the Doctor's other faces with handwritten descriptions. There's mild teas to chai teas and every manner in between.]

All yours to pick from.

...your cat's name is Brax?

[He'd like to know who chose that name. It seems a strange choice, but he's not going to question it.

He rummages through the teas, opening a few canisters to sniff at, reading descriptions on others, till he settles on a fairly strong breakfast tea blend.]

Did you make all of these yourself?

[She'd mentioned having a shop, after all. It's a safe deduction.]

Mm, yes. Brax, you can blame your Sixth face for that one. I'd nothing to do with that at all. That was, I think just before I arrived. Something about kittens in pockets? [Ril laughs and shakes her head.]

Ah, yes. I did, back when venturing out to pick tea leaves wasn't quite the hazard it is now.

Can't say I'd name a cat after my brother, but that was a particularly strange regeneration.

[It's spoken with a certain sort of exasperated fondness; for all that he professes to hate Six's coat, they're a bit closer in personality than some of the more recent Doctors.]

Have you thought about growing the plants you need? Someone from- oh, whichever House it is with the plants could help.

[It's the kettle she turns to get with a shake of her head, quieting the urge to refute the strange regeneration bit of that sentence on principal. There's humor there, though, and it draws a soft laugh.]

I suppose that's one word for him. He found it rather amusing to call an ornery cat who, at first, seemed quite bent on disliking him, after his brother. The resemblance was probably closer to the truth than one might suspect.

[There's a soft huff, then, as she turns the burner off.]

Sometimes, Brax will wander about at night and cry like he's lost. I can't speak cat, but I'm almost certain he's looking for his Doctor. At the end of it, he misses him terribly.

[Sometimes, the cat and Ril just look at each other and share a bit of a cuddle on the edge of Six's bed. It's better, now, going back into that empty room. She hasn't had the heart to pack anything up and his blue coat is hung carefully on the closet door knob, waiting for him.

It's his laugh and the little absent touches she misses most, or the moments where he'd be reading something and she'd bend to drop a kiss against his curly mop of hair. He'd completely lose his train of thought with an ever so slightly confused "Hrm?" as if she'd pulled him from the deepest of musings. The tiny things seem to linger the longest.

When she turns back to fill the cups with water there's a slight shake to her hands, but it resolves itself. Ril clears her throat a little, shifting herself into the present.]

It's a good idea, growing tea, growing things, really. I should talk with Clara.

[Although he can't pick up on Ril's emotions, he senses there's something deeper going on there - yet again - and he feels a bit lost, not entirely like someone floundering in the deep end of a swimming pool. He doesn't know what to do or say, or if he's even the sort to do or say anything (and he rather suspects he isn't). So instead, he settles for a lame offer of:]

If we were back home, I could speak cat, but it's trickier here. Human brains, full of pudding, not nearly enough room for what I need to know, let alone all the different dialects of different languages.

[Which really means that he's human and no longer psychic, or perhaps that he doesn't have the TARDIS to translate for him, or maybe all of the above. Who knows?]

Oh, I don't know about that. Talking to Clara can be awfully dangerous. You think it's just a normal conversation, and then, boom! Suddenly she springs these lessons on you, like she's some sort of- of teacher or something!

[It's said fondly and with amusement, though, and not with any sort of malice. Obviously he cares a great deal about Clara, like the other Doctors here.]

I was telepathic back in my own home, telekinetic as well. There are many, many things that are tricker when you aren't your own species. If you could speak cat, I'm sure Brax could tell you all sorts of stories.

[She finds a saucer for each of them and spoons. There's a nod and then a proper grin. It'll be fine once she finds her own equilibrium, because there are many things that remind her of her lost Doctor in this new face. She's adjusting as quietly as she can, now, after her initial joy. It's surprising to her and yet not all at once, how difficult it is. It's not the fact that he's different, not at all. It's the pull of memory and the shape of loss that hasn't dulled as much as she's tried to convince herself it has. It hasn't been dealt with, however much she'd like to insist she has.]

Mm, yes, she does do that sometimes. It's quite refreshing, actually. [Ril is very fond of Clara herself, and as she neatly measures his tea out and hers, placing them into neat handmade tea bags, it's evident.]

I'd glad she's still with you, then. Best lessons, your Clara.

[She places each tea bag neatly into its cup, and finishes pouring the rest of the water in before placing the kettle back on the burner where it spits and lets out a sigh of a whistle.]

[The Doctor regards the milk, cream, sugar, and everything else with a studious look, taking a moment to peek at each individually and, perhaps, hold it up to his nose to sniff (sorry, Ril). Finally, after great deliberation, he chooses a slice of lemon and squeezes some into his tea, stirring it carefully before taking a thoughtful sip. He holds the tea in his mouth for a moment, possibly swishing it around a little to test the taste, then pauses contemplatively.

He adds the tiniest splash of milk, then repeats the entire process, finally selecting a biscuit with care and dunking it into his tea for just a moment, eating it with satisfaction.]

New taste buds.

[At least they've settled now; who knows what he'd be adding to the tea if he was still suffering from regeneration sickness.]

'Course she is. [He says this as if there was ever any doubt, never mind that...well, there was.] Don't know what she'd do without me - lead some sort of normal life?

day 504; video;

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