Change, and Not a Moment Too Soon.
Exhaustion clung to his bones like dust, his body threatening to topple over as he reached for the control lever. It wasn't long now, he only had to wait a few more moments, maybe he could sit down, just rest his eyes, let the darkness take him.
Rest, earned, and eternal.
But then, but then, his eyes glance over the monitor; there it is, he can feel it still, the old itch. " Oh, there it is, silly old universe. More I save it, the more it needs saving. The treadmill." Hadn't he given enough? How many lives had it been, how many years?
For how long could he keep burning the candle at both ends before burning himself out utterly?
His back finds the railing, eyes, longing for sleep, drifting from the rotor to the ceiling. He can practically feel her judgmental gaze on him. " Yes, yes I know they'll get it all wrong without me." Could he keep going? Should he? He's sure he ended up making the universe suffer just as many times he ended up saving it. Did it really need the Doctor, still? Hadn't he done enough?
Another chime from the rotor-- If she was being so outwardly chatty, it definitely was the end times. Almost like she was trying to get him to take the hint.
He lurches forward, hand pressing against the corner of the console for support, mind, filled with questions, stretching a moment into a thousand.
His hearts ache; He feels the weight of millennia upon him. Loves, found and lost; Mistakes, made and rectified. Could he go through it again? Couldn't he just stop?
But then again--
There is a nebula, at a far corner in the universe, in nascence, ready to be born. A beautiful spark, with no one to welcome it home. He could be there, right now, watch it bloom; He could go further, run across the fields of Elyisum, float on the iridescent flora with the smell of strawberries. So many wonders of the universe, how many of them had he managed to see?
How many of them would he miss?
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, when will you ever learn?
Acceptance or resignation, did it matter in the end? "Well, I suppose one more lifetime wouldn't kill anyone." Eyes focus on the all too familiar yellow glow, a sad, tired, smile tugging at the corner of the mouth,
" Well, except me."
You wait a moment, Doctor, there were some ground rules to go over, the basics, lets get them right.
He leaps to his feet, the regeneration energy, slowly building, ever building, giving him his second (third?) wind as he launched into his final monologue. It was always a dodgy process, danger to lose himself ever-present, he hoped his words would steer him right, guide him to where he needed to be, to the person he would like to be.
He hoped he would remember these words.
" Laugh hard. Run fast. Be Kind." The stage was set, the players ready to assume their roles, time for him to leave the dance floor. How many more metaphors could he squeeze in before the end?
Would he continue to enjoy metaphors?
Stay on course, Doctor-That-Was.
A blink, and he is on a beach far away, feeling the sand between his toes; at the distant, the inevitable wave, moving toward him with steady persistence. " Doctor, I let you go." Awash with gold, he throws his head back, death flowing out; life, flowing in, filling the TARDIS with overbearing warmth.
And round, and round, and round we went.
Next stop, everywhere.
It was a bit like getting concussed, really; If being concussed meant having your brain shaken violently like an etch-a-sketch, hoping enough of you remained in the aftermath. He could feel the changes as they came on; ends of his hair felt longer, his knees ached and buckled as they made up for the height differential, his clothes now a size too large.
Blinding of gold; warmth of life, the cold touch of death. It blinds his vision, really, and then its gone; He exhales the gasp of life, new lungs taking in air for the very first time.
To begin again, how exciting.
He stumbles forward yet again, hands, younger than earlier, reaching for the handles of the display, curious for the reflection that would face him. He was-- Oh! Cheekbones still sharp as ever, eyes blue as the open sky, and-- No Adam's apple to be found?
Oh, oh! Was he a she now?
" Oh, marvelous."
Lovely, He-- she was hoping for a change in the routine.
"And-- I'm blonde!" She throws her head back, a laugh, from deep within, gazing up at the rotor with a wide, beaming smile on her face, the first of many. " I haven't been blonde in ages!"
She launches herself off the console with a twirl, joints moving, snapping, stretching for the first time; fingers tap tap tapping along the metal surface
"Okay, love, wherever shall we go next?"
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𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 [ … ] 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄,
bold what applies - italicise sometimes. repost, don’t reblog.
fights honourably / fights dirty
prefers close - quarters / prefers range
chats during / goes silent
low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance
attacks in bursts / attacks steadily
goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively / strikes first
is provoked easily / provokes their opponent / teases
gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking
uses strategy / focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle
rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging
fights wildly / fights calmly / fights apathetically / fights with anger / fights with excitement
fights because they have to / fights because they want to
fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another
prefers a blade / prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow / prefers a shield / prefers a personalized weapon / prefers magic, alchemy or spells
their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional
transforms for battle / fights as they appear
relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed
uses everything they have / proceeds with caution / hides their full potential
exhausts quickly / has high stamina
behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities
uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength
avoids civilians / strikes down civilians
damages surroundings / avoids damaging surroundings
signature fighting style / makes it up as they go
mastered skill - set / learning their skill - set
fancy footwork / sloppy footwork
messy fighter / elegant fighter
accepts defeat / refuses defeat / begs for mercy
compliments their opponent / insults their opponent
uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves
prefers to dodge / prefers to block
defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable
uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method
plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy
waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready
fears death / fears pain / fears killing
has ptsd / avoids fighting
has lost a fight / has won a fight
has killed / refuses to kill
wants to die standing / would succumb slowly
tagged by: @corrchoigilt
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