![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
[[Backdated to Halloween afternoon.]]
[ It's been rather quiet from this quarter as of late. That's not necessarily a bad thing. The Doctor has had to wait a little... Waiting he can do. He can bide his time and Time is his business after all. No, he doesn't mind waiting at all.
Endings though. Finalities. Goodbye's. Last pages. Postscripts and signatures. He doesn't like those and there's been so many of them. One after the other after another, oh, THAT doesn't end. People will come and go, and their paths cross briefly or a bit longer and then they're gone, it is a fact of life that he is well aware of. But here it feels so final, like the last stroke of a pen at the bottom of a page.
Is this what Paradisa will do to him one day as it has to others? Finding himself writing notes and postscripts in preparation for the day when the castle has had enough of him? Or did it do that once already?
He's in a spot that's becoming one of his favourite places, the landing that over looks the lobby. Hands flat on top of the stone wall, the Halloween decorations below are just that and feel tawdry, hollow, and mocking his mood. He finds a familiar anger bubbling up again. That won't do. Not now. Not when his journal only just repaired itself, because damn the castle if he didn't throw it hard enough to lose its cover and break the spine. Childish and petulant.
There are no endings. He will refuse them. There is always time and there are no endings, no goodbye's.
It's still a few minutes more before he addresses the journal, though. His tone doesn't carry his usual measure of brightness. ]
Good afternoon. I-.
It's the Doctor here, usually the one in the cricket jumper. Well, I'll get right to the point and save us all some time for today's festivities, shall I, for I'm more than aware I'm not the only one dressed in new clothes again.
( Filtered: anyone previously affiliated with Code Blair or who would like to be. )
( Filtered: Tenth Doctor. )
I would appreciate it, I really would, if comments on my attire today could be kept to a minimum. Yes, I know it's likely a lot to ask, and yes, I do understand the humour of operating scrubs, a white lab coat and a stethoscope, thank you. [ Not to mention that rather snappy name tag of 'Doctor McLovely'. There's a pause before he continues. ]
In the meantime, if the children or anyone else interested has had enough of sweets already today, I have left a basket of apples in the lobby. Far much better for your health and you know what they say about apples.
[ It's been rather quiet from this quarter as of late. That's not necessarily a bad thing. The Doctor has had to wait a little... Waiting he can do. He can bide his time and Time is his business after all. No, he doesn't mind waiting at all.
Endings though. Finalities. Goodbye's. Last pages. Postscripts and signatures. He doesn't like those and there's been so many of them. One after the other after another, oh, THAT doesn't end. People will come and go, and their paths cross briefly or a bit longer and then they're gone, it is a fact of life that he is well aware of. But here it feels so final, like the last stroke of a pen at the bottom of a page.
Is this what Paradisa will do to him one day as it has to others? Finding himself writing notes and postscripts in preparation for the day when the castle has had enough of him? Or did it do that once already?
He's in a spot that's becoming one of his favourite places, the landing that over looks the lobby. Hands flat on top of the stone wall, the Halloween decorations below are just that and feel tawdry, hollow, and mocking his mood. He finds a familiar anger bubbling up again. That won't do. Not now. Not when his journal only just repaired itself, because damn the castle if he didn't throw it hard enough to lose its cover and break the spine. Childish and petulant.
There are no endings. He will refuse them. There is always time and there are no endings, no goodbye's.
It's still a few minutes more before he addresses the journal, though. His tone doesn't carry his usual measure of brightness. ]
Good afternoon. I-.
It's the Doctor here, usually the one in the cricket jumper. Well, I'll get right to the point and save us all some time for today's festivities, shall I, for I'm more than aware I'm not the only one dressed in new clothes again.
( Filtered: anyone previously affiliated with Code Blair or who would like to be. )
( Filtered: Tenth Doctor. )
I would appreciate it, I really would, if comments on my attire today could be kept to a minimum. Yes, I know it's likely a lot to ask, and yes, I do understand the humour of operating scrubs, a white lab coat and a stethoscope, thank you. [ Not to mention that rather snappy name tag of 'Doctor McLovely'. There's a pause before he continues. ]
In the meantime, if the children or anyone else interested has had enough of sweets already today, I have left a basket of apples in the lobby. Far much better for your health and you know what they say about apples.