nexus_crossings | (no subject)

"I missed Halloween didn't I?"

The Doctor pokes his head out from the TARDIS; he was supposed to be here long ago for the Halloween Party to cause a bit of mischief. With his space helmet on backwards, and having picked up some old friends along the way, he decided to pop in to get his share of miniature candies and to share a bunch of chocolate buttons.

He steps out from the TARDIS, and he finds himself walking head first into the wall of a building, and lucky for him he has a sturdy helmet on his head. "Ouch. Who decided this was a good place to put a wall?" The poor Doctor reaches his hand up, and he goes to his head.

His shoulders slump, and he lowers his hand and he goes to blindly navigate his way away from the wall. "Anyway, I know it has been sometime since I've been here, too long. I think I recall setting up a wonderful Christmas tree in the plaza. But I'm here to stay, yup; I'm here to stay because I think this place is as good as any to cheat death. Or hide from it." Going to Trenzalore is not on The Doctor's plans, and if he can dodge, it by hanging out somewhere else this place is it.

"So the big question is, what would you lot do if you were to cheat death? Or would you welcome your untimely end?"

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A dark-haired man in a tailored suit watches the spaceman with a bemused look on his face. He doesn't intervene when the gangly-limbed man bumbles his way around, but the question does spark a bit of mild interest.

"Define 'cheating'," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Doctor stops stumbling along, and he turns to where he thinks he might be hearing someone answering his question. And that direction is facing the wall that he walked into earlier.

"Not showing up when ol'death comes knocking on your door? Living to fight another day. Or just out smarting what should have killed you."

He tries his best to find out how to put in light his own situation. "And in my case, I'm not interested in showing up to what is to be my own funeral. And so far for the past twelve hundred years, I've done a good job at it. Just, just, there's something to do with prophecies and fancy predictions of my death."

"Then I guess I have," Caspar mutters after The Doctor rattles off his definition. "And I used my second chance to make amends with the only person in my life who matters. She's why I'm sticking around."

He's... not even facing the right direction. Caspar sighs in annoyance, then walks over and carefully taps The Doctor's shoulder. "Over here. Why don't you try turning your helmet around so you can see?" How can someone live twelve hundred years and be this goofy? "How do you know that's what's waiting for you? Prophecies are bullshit."

Edited 2017-12-02 01:24 (UTC)

The Doctor is turned in the right direction, where he faces Caspar. "I can use a hand finding the clasps for this thing." Seeing the person who's talking to him first would be nice. "And, no, don't worry I don't need it in order to breathe."

"Normally I would be with you, but there are some prophecies that tend to be true. Well true when I'm somehow part of them." The Doctor mutters under his already muffled breath. "And having people I know that matter are part of the reason I don't want to meet my proverbial maker."

Rolling his eyes, he reaches for the clasps on the helmet and helps The Doctor get it off. He's a little surprised to see a young man's face instead of someone who looks his age. "I wasn't worried, but good for you. Does this mean you're not human?"

That's a mildly incredulous look on Caspar's face. "You're really that damn special, that prophecies come true for you?" But he can't fault him for running away from his fate, especially if he has people that he cares about, too. "My girlfriend tells me that this place is great for second chances. Not that I'm here for that. I'm here for her, so long as she needs me."

There is a sigh of relief from The Doctor, and he raises an eyebrow at the response to not being human. "And I suppose this means you're not a Time Lord. But, no, I'm not human."

And he lifts his gloved hands up, and he then he remembers they are attached to the suit he is wearing. "I'm very special, and that's why I think it would be better that for once a prophecy about me doesn't come true." He starts to pat himself down, and he goes to remove the clunky silver spacesuit.

"What'd you do that your girlfriend told you to come here for a second chance?"

"I'm a Cylon." Not that he expects this guy to know what that is, but like hell is he going to let him assume that he's human. "What are you then, if you don't mind me asking? Not everyone is fortunate enough to live twelve hundred years."

He watches the other man take off the spacesuit. "You sure you can avoid it then? That's what Oedipus tried, you know, and look how well that worked out for him. Maybe by coming here you're screwing yourself over even more."

Ever the optimist, this one. But his polite, if mild expression of disbelief over this man's situation disappears when The Doctor asks his own question. He averts his gaze, his jaw hardening. He wants to snap back that it's none of his damn business, but he did set himself up for being asked... dammit...

"There was a war, and I was on the wrong side of it," he answers shortly. "I hurt my girlfriend in the process. It won't happen again."

Edited 2017-12-02 20:48 (UTC)

"Cylon, eh?" The Doctor shrugs off the rest of the spacesuit, and he lets it drop to the ground in a heap. He lifts his hand up to fix his purple bowtie. "As for me, I'm a Time Lord. The very last of the Time Lords."

With his bowtie just the way, he likes it; The Doctor takes in a deep breath. "I'm not sure running towards my death is screwing myself over this time. And this place will be perfect for two friends of mine. I lost them once before, but with some help I was able to get them back." The Doctor just hopes The Weeping Angels don't come here to try and take Amy and Rory back.

He was just raises an eyebrow, and he tilts his head to the side at the mention of hurting a friend or girlfriend. "What do you mean by hurt your girlfriend? I mean, I know that wars cause people to do horrible and terrible things that are beyond your control."

He wears a bowtie. Caspar is starting to miss the spacesuit. "Yeah, a Cylon. A biological robot. Care to enlighten me to what a Time Lord is?" He knows all too well what it means to be the last of your kind -- or model, in his case -- but he keeps that thought to himself.

Likewise, he remains uncertain about The Doctor's plan to escape his prophecy. If it's real in the first place. "You're bringing them here?" he asks in disbelief. "How are you going to make sure they stay out of trouble?"

Seriously, how? He needs pointers.

Can this guy not take a hint that he doesn't want to elaborate? He scowls at him briefly. "I left her when she needed me the most. Twice. It's a miracle that she's forgiven me at all. It doesn't matter if I had my reasons at the time."

Rory smiled slightly. "A human with almost two thousand years worth of memories might not be the right person to ask, Doctor. At least not unless Gallifreyans live only fifty years on average." He shrugged. "For that matter how long do Time Lords live on average?"

"What do you mean by 'cheat death'?" The question comes from a tiger-sized reptilian creature in brilliant red-edged golden scales. The K'da peers curiously at the humanoid figure, entirely concealed beneath the spacesuit, carrying odd smells with him.

And odd behavior. Groping strangely at the wall, having stepped free of a tiny blue box. Was he simply standing in there for a time? Faris cannot assume that the person is a human, since he has met many similarly-structured bipeds, but humans do behave oddly at times.

"Some might argue I already have..."

She leans against a nearby wall, taking a sip of her flask as she chuckles to herself, watching The Doctor stumble around blind.

"... then again, being a vampire does have its perks. Though, I suppose you could say I cheated death once... the day I lost my birth parents, back while I was still human. By all means I should have been killed that day, but fate had other plans in store. It's a long, sordid tale, but back to the question at hand. I've mostly been searching for a tiny shred of happiness that won't be torn from my grasp. It's sad to say, but the stars certainly haven't been in my favor as of late."