(no subject)

[poeticandpedantic]

Really, my dear lady,

I cannot fault your taste, but I hardly think I need enumerate on the fact that my purpose here is not to fulfil your sordid little fantasies. I am, of course, appropriately grateful that you've deigned to turn your attention my way again-- I can't imagine what fascination those absurd American boys with their incoherent medley of mythologies holds for you, to prove such a distraction-- but honestly, that you should spend such time bemoaning the lack of people to-- and I cringe at your internet neologisms, I must point out-- 'play smut with' is frankly silly. You've plenty of compatriots with a similar regard for my, ahem, many striking attributes in this body; just go and ask one of them! Surely they cannot have changed so much, even if you've not 'chatplayed' with them in years. Regardless, whatever path you choose to go down, I maintain that I refuse to prostitute myself to your capricious, hormonal whims.

Adamantly,

The Doctor

Comments

[liberal_gallifreyan]

...Doctor? Are you propositioning this entire comm?

gallifrey!romana! <3 <3 <3

[poeticandpedantic]

[Have a blank pause, Romana, and then a splutter.]

I am most certainly not, thank you very much, Romana. I am merely airing some very legitimate grievances with my-- writer. Honestly, as if I would treat this place like some kind of-- of Apalapucian brothel! I think not.

Yes, I love her!

[liberal_gallifreyan]

[Romana isn't enjoying you suffer, Doctor, perish the thought!]

Then I should possibly add that to your list of grievances, Doctor, because you have unintended subtext which I believe your writer is entirely responsible for.

[poeticandpedantic]

[No, never, not Romana. The Doctor may suspect this, and puffs himself up accordingly, all aggrieved eyebrows and hands on lapels.]

Yes, well, she is human, very young, what can one expect? [Never minding the fact that the Doctor very frequently travels with human women younger by years than his mun.] They scarcely have the control over their own biologies we're blessed with; her desire for me to-- hmm-- is little more than, ah, projection.

[That's his story and he's sticking to it.]

[liberal_gallifreyan]

Well, I would have thought you the expert there.

Oh? Are there... specific projections we should be concerned with? [Romana, you did not just. Too much time spent with Leela, that's your problem.]

[poeticandpedantic]

[Eyebrow. Goodness, how provocative of the Madam President.]

'Concerned' with? You need not be concerned with anything; I'm hardly likely to... leap on you in a fit of animal passion.

[liberal_gallifreyan]

[See now you're making this text.]

I'm greatly relieved to hear it. I'm sure there's an ordinance somewhere that forbids it.

[poeticandpedantic]

You would know better than I; I never had the patience for the labyrinth of Gallifreyan politics, but I wouldn't be surprised, frankly. Heaven forfend the President enjoy herself in any way not strictly required by her office. Ah, not that-- [his writer is putting subtext into his mouth, damn her]-- well.

[liberal_gallifreyan]

[Well, she was going to say something but she's sensing that she's in deeper waters than she's used to. They don't much talk about that on Gallifrey, unless you count that little incident with Hallan. And so we have blushing. Just a bit.] Well, indeed, Doctor.

[poeticandpedantic]

[Another man might comment on the blushing, if only to apologise for making her uncomfortable, but the Doctor himself has had quite enough of this topic of conversation, and so he firmly does not. Instead, he harrumphs.]

Quite. But enough of such tawdry topics, eh? What has the Lady President Romanadvoratrelundar been up to? The last time I saw you was during that wretched business on Archetryx with the Daleks.

[liberal_gallifreyan]

[Once upon a time, she'd have paled even at the mention of that time. But now there's a proud, if angry, set to her expression.] What goes around comes around, it seems. Daleks again, I'm afraid. But they're all wrapped up nicely in the Matrix for eternity, so I suppose I can't complain.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Are you sure your human can understand you? So many of them have trouble with long words.

[poeticandpedantic]

[Oh, Rassilon, of all the people. Stiffly, the Doctor says,]

My writer may have many faults, but illiteracy is, felicitously, not one of them.

[ofdrumsthesound]

There's nothing keeping you from using the word 'luckily,' dear Doctor. *The Master rolls his eyes a bit, then grins.* I've missed you, old frienemy. Although the coat I could've gone without.

[poeticandpedantic]

[Even the Doctor's eye-rolls are eloquent; much more so, he fancies, than the Master's. On sheer principle. In general, he thinks he's much more stylish than the Master, though this one rather takes the proverbial biscuit. Black velvet on black wool might've been gauche, but at least his contemporary Master has something of gothic elegance about him. Before he opens his mouth, at least. This one looks like a teenage hoodlum.]

One of those 'never use five words when one will do' sorts this time around, are you? Codswallop. And I hardly think you in any position to criticise my verbiage if you then proceed to use so-called words like frienemy.

[He shudders theatrically.]

[poeticandpedantic]

They're-- you've trapped the Daleks in the Matrix? That is-- you realise, of course, how ridiculously perilous that has the chance of being?

[ofdrumsthesound]

I like the word 'frienemy,' it describes our relationship perfectly. *He frowns exaggeratedly.* And don't you eyeball my hoodie, I like this hoodie. I like my hair, too. It's good hair.

*He takes a bag of candies out of his pocket and pours half of them into his mouth, then offers the bag.* Jelly baby? *Smirk.*

[poeticandpedantic]

It's ghastly and voguish is what it is.

[And he will eyeball all he likes, thank you very much. Which he continues to do, just to be stubborn.]

Well, I suppose it's a departure from your usual, at least. And it only took you a thousand years to tire of black suits.

[Crisply, to the offer of jelly babies.]

No, thank you.

[ofdrumsthesound]

*He's just be glaring at the rainbow monkey suit, then.* Oh, I still like the black suits. They just don't go well with bleached hair.

If you're sure. *And he eats the rest of the bag.*

[poeticandpedantic]

[Monkey suit?! Say that out loud, sir, and he will demand satisfaction. Or, well, he probably won't, as the Master, in his experience, loves a fight, and giving him what he wants is rarely a good idea.] Indeed. Dare I ask what prompted that particular fashion decision?

[ofdrumsthesound]

*Good thinking, that.* Not until you explain why a rainbow bled all over your suit.

[poeticandpedantic]

[Siiiigh] Surely you might have bothered to ask me this when we were actually in contemporaneous timelines? Though possibly at the time you were too busy cackling madly and trying to-- steal the Matrix.

[ofdrumsthesound]

I was a bit busy, yeah. Sorry about that, I was trying to keep up with the drums.

[poeticandpedantic]

I beg your pardon?

[ofdrumsthesound]

There's a drumming noise inside my head, old friend. War drums.

Remember the headaches I got once in a while, back when we were kids? That was the very beginning of my madness. *He taps out the drumbeat on the nearest flat surface.* I thought it was just my heartbeats for a very long time, but they were a psychic suggestion to be violent from another time. Bloody Untempered Schism.

. . . so, you never explained the rainbow monkey outfit. Would you be so kind as to change that?