I've been going through.... well, some stuff lately. And it's hindered my creative process. But here's some new dribbles! Written over the past 3 days! YAY!
enjoy! n.n!!!
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He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes. He felt his chest rising and falling, and the subtle ache in his hip throbbed just enough to remind him it was still there. "Hey Al?"
"Yeah Sam?" came that voice, sleepy and slightly lilting. Always beside him, and never far from reach.
"You can do magic right?"
"What? Like pull a scarf outta a rabbits arse?"
He laughed, wincing as he let it rock his fragile body. "I don't think it goes quite like that," he said, his wrinkled face pulling his lips into a smile. "And not that kind. Those are tricks. I mean, you're... you're you. You can do stuff. Not-human stuff."
There was a long silence from the man beside him. The only way he knew Al still lay next to him was the musk that permeated the air. The subtle hint of strawberry kiwi shampoo. The distinct, exotic scent of his skin, stiffled only by the clothes he wore. It was enticing and comforting at once. He smelled like an exciting mixture of Medditeranian spices and the strongest, most intoxicating whisky. He licked his lips, his mind just about to drift further before he heard him speak.
"Yes."
A simple word. A small word. But spoken with such trepedation. Such... fear.
"But I won't do it," he added. "Not even fer you."
A feeling he hadn't known in years rose up in his old bones. A mixture of anger and jealousy, never a good combination, fueled his words. "You'd do it for Tyler, if you-"
"Don't go there with me," was Al's harsh reply as Sam felt the matress move slightly. The man beside him becomming tense and full of sudden, unspoken rage.
"But you would have, if you could though," he said. "Back then."
Silence drifted between them once more. A different sort. The old man let the words hang in the air. He had no doubt he'd struck true to the obviously still raw nerves of that particular subject shared so unusually between them.
At last, the silence was broken, and the tenseness eased from the air and from his unlikely partner's body. "Yeah," Al said. "But that was back then, when I was young an stupid an greedy."
The old man snorted as he laughed, glad that the dark cloud he had summoned had passed. "You?" he choked out sarcastically. "Never." They laughed together a few minutes more, and when the moment had passed, he sighed. "Why not me though? I mean, you could do it. I could be like you, if I wanted. I could-"
He stopped when he felt moist lips press against his temple, followed by a hand brushing the hair he knew to be sparse and gray with his many years from his forehead.
"I could. You could be strong, healthy, and young again. You could live forever, just like me, if you wanted," he said softly before his voice dropped an octave. "But first I'd have to kill you. Then do... unspeakable things. And your very soul would be devoured and you wouldn't be you anymore. You'd be something wicked and dark and vile. The cost of such a thing is too steep a price to pay. And I would never force this... evil on another. Not on you, not on anyone. Even if you begged me."
(this one kinda.... got away from me there near the end. n.n' sorries!)
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"I had two children," he said. "A boy and a girl."
"What happened to them?"
"Their mother and I got a divorce. I could have them for the summers. And some holidays. My girl was old enough to bitch and talk back, so she was sent to me with no problem. But my boy..." He started to drift off the end of his sentence, taking a sip from his glass before forcing back his emotions again. "My boy was kept from me. I tried to see him at every opportunity. I sent gifts, cards, letters. I don't know if he even was allowed to see them. I tried calling him, when he came of age. But... He would never answer.
"When I did last see him though, it was not under the best of terms. My best friend, who I'd been looking after for many years, had just died. I was an emotional wreck."
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(this was written as a bit of a lark. n.n)
TIME LORD ETTIQUETTE
1. Companions
Companions are a very serious business to a Time Lord. They are best friends, pets, men, women, human, otherwise, and the occasional equal. They travel with these companions, showing them impossible things, and in general the whole of time and space. They are also someone a Time Lord can, and often do, trust with their [many] lives.
2. Transport
Be it a TARDIS or any other means, a Time Lord's personal transport and anything inside is literally all they have. They go to great lengths to protect it, and will even go so far as to patch it together with bubble gum and paperclips if necessary. String and band-aids are ideal for such repairs.
3. Tools
Tools come in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and types. From sonic to laser. Even the occasional tin dog or oversized rubber mallet attatched to the console. Tools are very important to the sanity as well as the security and survival of a Time Lord. To be entrusted with their most important tools is a sign of respect and trust that is on such a level that it has no other equal.
4. Origin and Pride
While such a status is indeed something to be proud of, a sensible Time Lord will not reveal him/herself as such unless necessary given the situation (See case study "SPACE TITANIC" on page 6,142). However, the occasional indulgence is entirely expected. Revelation of his/her origin in the Post-Time War era will often be and is currently met with disbelief, scrutiny, amazement, or no response at all given that the species encountered may not have ever heard of them. Therefore, one must take great care in who this secret is revealed to. When it is revealed, it is imperitive that a Time Lord do so with pride and dignity, with no shame nor fear, especially when confronting a Dalek.
5. Obligation and Adversaries
This is the most important, dangerous, and hardest part. A Time Lord's duty is to experience the universe, explore it's mysteries, and delve into alien cultures. This is so that they can amass great knowledge and wisdom. And they must share these things with their companions whenever possible, after their initial explorations of course. A Time Lord's obligation is to protect life where they find it, save the innocent, and set things right when they go wrong. In doing so, they will make and meet many adversaries. And will be forced into epic battle. It is a Time Lord's obligation in such a circumstance to do so with as little bloodshed as possible even if the end result is the loss of their own life. (The only exception to this is when dealing with Daleks. In these extreme cases, genocide is highly recommended.) The continued existence and prosperity of Time and the Universe must always come first.
6. Regenerations
A way devised by the greatest Time Lord, Rassilon, to cheat death so to speak. It came about when the Gallifreyans as a race became sterile and unable to sexually reproduce. (See entry "Houses of Cousins" page 4,993 and entry "Looms of Gallifrey" page 4,997) The regeneration cycle consists of 12 regenerations of the entire body, with 13 different and distinct incarnations. If a Time Lord is near death (be it from old age, poison, mortal wound, etc.) their body will generate a restorative energy which will heal all wounds and rewrite their entire biological/physical appearance. Personalities and voices are also known to change.
6.5. Biological Metacrisis
In the event that a Time Lord wishes to remain in their current incarnation when a regeneration is triggered, they can do so provided they are in possession of and proximity to a genetically identical receptical. The process is rather straightforward. A Time Lord allows the regeneration to begin; however once wounds and injuries are healed, the excess energy must be immediately siphoned into the receptical. The regeneration is thus aborted.
WARNING: The receptical is highly voltatile following the event. It must be locked away immediately where no one can touch it, especially humans. The result would be the creation of a cloned Time Lord from the residual regeneration energy with personality characteristics as well as some genetic and physical traits of the one who touched the receptical.
7. Leaving Companions
A Time Lord is immortal, barring accidents. All companions are temporary, even fellow Time Lords. As a rule of thumb, Time Lords to not become too attatched to their companions because of this. However, it happens. Many leave on their own, wanting to return home or finding a new world to settle on. Others will die. This is unavoidable, and happens to the best of them. Some are simply lost. (See case study "ROSE" on page 1,294).
And still, for those who have become far too attatched to their companions, there is a situation reffered to simply as "Aberdine".
To Aberdine a companion is to purposely leave them behind against their will or knowledge. "See case studies "SARAH JANE SMITH" page 97, "SUSAN FORMAN" page 8, and "DONNA NOBLE" paves 1,472 through 2,010.)
Depending on how the task is done, the term "Hatianed" may be substituted. It may be harsh, but this is in fact the kindest and most humane way to leave companions behind when all other options are exhausted.
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"You'll be in here till we can get your old room sorted," he said. "Breakfast is at 8AM, Lunch is at noon. Supper is-"
"At 5:30 sharp. Just like when I was a kid. Got it," Zeke said, dropping his duffle bag inside the doorway of the guest room.
"If you need anything, I'm across the hall after midnight."
He raised a brow at this, and looked at the man who looked so much younger than himself. "Wait, didn't that used to be..."
Al smiled. "Don't break your brains trying to think it out, kiddo. I toss and turn when I sleep, and with how old your brother's got... Don't need me breaking his ribs when I roll over is all."
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"It's still just the two of you. In this giant house."
He nodded, chopping some parsley before adding it to the sauce towards dinner. "There's a maid that comes in three days a week to help me out. But it's pretty much just us two. Three now that you're here. Again."
"Why don't you just get a smaller place?" Zeke asked, picking at his salad. He wasn't going to eat it, but figured since Al had made it for him, he may as well pretend that he was. "Or put him in a home."
Al shook his head as he wiped his hands on his apron. That old, frilly pink one that Zeke was suprised was still in one piece. "Sam refuses to let go of the place. Says it's all he's got left that matters." He shrugged as he wiped down the counter, then turned to lean back against it. "And I wouldn't put him in a home even if all I had was a cardboard box to shove him in. The man deserves to live his last years in dignity, not in some fucking waiting room for death."
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"Your brother and Nessa are comming down from New York this evening. They'll be here by dinner. Try to clean yourself up and behave."
"What? WHY?!"
"Why not? They heard your were in town, and wanted to come see you. They need a few days vacation anyway."
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He chewed his lip as he saw the band on his brother's finger. "Well," he said, shuffling his feet. "Married now?"
Elijah blinked at him in confusion, then gave a weak smile and a nod. "Uh... yeah," he said, distratcting himself by sipping his wine. "Five years this last April."
"Who's the lucky-"
"It's not important," Eli said quickly. "It's purely for public relations. And political reasons."
"I see," Zeke said, shuffling his feet again in awkward silence.
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"Nessa's in line to be the next govenor of New York," Sam said, slightly impressed that at least one of the little bastards of their hodge-podge family was achieving something at least. He grinned as he heard Al put a plate down in front of him before the chair to his right scraped against the floor, signaling that the other man was sitting down.
"It's not official yet, Sam," she said. "I still have to survive the primaries."
Al smirked, unfolding a napkin and laying it across his lap. "With Eli workin on your campaign, there's no way you'll lose, princess. You'll be the first third party govenor they've had in... Well, I can't even begin to remember when."
Sam laughed. "One thing's for sure," he said, knowing their conversation was making Zeke very uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. "I'm sure as hell glad we don't live there anymore."
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"So you and Eli? But he's... and you don't got a..."
She laughed. "Oh no..." she said, swiling her wine around in her glass as if it were brandy. "Not with each other." Her smile was sly, was wicked and cruel. "But he does let me watch."
"You're a sick, twisted woman, you know that?"
She laughed again, then took a sip from her glass. "You're one to talk, Ezekiel. Everyone knows you and poor, naiive Eli were... a bit closer than brothers should be."
He felt the blood drain from his face as it ran ice cold in his veins. He didn't think anyone knew about that. Unless Eli... No. He wouldn't do that. He was smart. Hell of a lot smarter than him.
"Oh hell, don't look at me like that. He didn't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about." Her laughter was sharp and dark and hot and all things foul despite it's sickeningly sweet melody. "Everyone sort of figured it out in their own time. Sam first, of course."
"...How?..."
"He smelled it. You know what they say about losing one sense. The others get stronger. And Sam's got one hell of a sense of smell. Better than any bloodhound, that's for sure."
He glared at her as she drained her glass, then rose from the table. "Don't keep my husband up too late tonight, Casanova. He and I have a photo-op in the morning before brunch with the Pensylvania govenor and his wife. Make sure not to leave any love bites."
He watched as she twirled on her heel, giggling sadistically as she made her way to the kitchen with her wine glass.
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