[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Comments

[groupiedrifter]

[His hand grips the Doctor's like they're walking along a cliff with a terribly long fall, gratitude making his eyes swim for a moment before he urgently blinks it away. Don't be a big dumb bitch, he tells himself, You're not a busted water hose, stop that. It's a dangerously familiar command, one that thousands of voices blended into one had commanded him not so long ago, but — it's him. It's him now, telling himself to cut it out, just him-]

Thanks, doc.

[It's spoken in a quiet, grateful tone, one that admires the offered kindness.

He loves his friends.

Taking a deep breath, he forces a smile and pushes himself toward something normal:]

Marta's got romances, huh? You're telling me she's been holding out on me?

[lateness]

[ The Doctor doesn't say anything, the small, soft smile he offers in Newt's direction all the response he needs.

He gently squeezes Newt's hand in his and tugs them along, seeking out a table and already contemplating the snacks that might go along with the tea. ]

Well, I'm afraid you'll have to ask her. [ He says this brightly. ] But yes, I'm quite sure they're hers, or she's been choosing to pass them off to me. They've been a fun distraction. Or maybe she's been trying to tell me something. Oh — am I not romantic enough? Is that it?

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt sits down at the table like a bashful first date. Embarrassing of him, really, but he just... needs to get used to being him in a safe space, right? Eventually, this'll all feel comforting again, instead of unnervingly foreign. He smooths his hands across the top of the table absently, the ring he slipped back onto his finger earlier in the day making a little metal noise.

Something about what the Doctor says lights his expression up a little. Maybe because he instantly thinks of Clara and the Doctor and the good that exists during this time of restless uncertainty.]

Oh yeah? What would you score yourself in terms of romance, doc?

[lateness]

[ The Doctor moves to sit across from Newt then, just for a moment anyway before he'll go and fetch the tea and snacks. They have time, after all, and the Doctor's getting used to being present in every minute that passes. He isn't always good at it, but he's getting better.

He considers Newt's question without much hesitation, responding with dramatic flair: ]

I'd say I'm a regular Romeo! [ ... said confidence deflates a little when he continues. ] But then, I suppose if you wanted the real truth you'd have to ask — ah. Clara. Or River. Or both. Or me. The other me.

Actually don't ask the other me, he wouldn't tell the truth.

[groupiedrifter]

[Newton snorts, amusement in his eyes now.]

Yeah, he'd be a real soggy sandwich about it, huh? Lucky you, I don't have to ask Clara or River, 'cus any guy who'd come check on some schmoe holed up in his room, and hold his hand when he feels like crap, obviously deserves a good rating.

[He runs a finger over a dent on the otherwise smooth table top.]

I'm totally jealous, dude. Two awesome ladies who love you? You've got it made.

[lateness]

Oh, come now, Newt. [ The Doctor smiles. ] But — yes. Yes, I will take that good rating, actually. Might come in handy if someone asks me about it one day. Might need a good reference.

[ He does think about Clara and River and the supposedly complicated sort of thing he's got with them both. And then bringing his other self into the mix, along with a healthy helping of time and space shenanigans, and it only furthers what might be difficult for any regular human to comprehend.

Being here on the Ximilia, even the Doctor himself finds it all a little bit confusing to understand too. The four of them somehow from different points in time, and yet moving forward all at once, at the same time, together. ]

Suppose I am very lucky though. [ He nods in agreement. ] And so are you, you know. Lucky that we managed to get you back. And lucky that you have so many of us who would fight the universe itself to bring you back.

[groupiedrifter]

Hey, I'm always a willing reference for you. If you ever take up a new gig as hand-holder especially.

[Or alien-revealer.

His smile twitches, eyes glancing aside in quiet consideration. It's probably no secret that Newton doesn't feel like someone that should be fought for like that. Not after what had happened on that godforsaken train. But he's a logical man, too, despite how he sometimes comes off. He knows somewhere deep down that he's being unkind to himself.

He bites his lip, and knows it's not a fun question, but... some part of him really wants to know. Wants to find something similar, so he doesn't feel quite so alone in what he's experiencing right now.]

... Have you seen that kind of thing before?

Alien possession?

[lateness]

Nothing quite like that, no.

[ The Doctor might lie about a great number of things, but this ... no. This, Newt deserves to hear the truth, or as much of a truth as the Doctor can provide.

These creatures they'd recently dealt with were certainly new in some ways, but familiar in others. In fact, he thinks if he were to go looking for them now, he'd have just enough information to do it. (Of course, he'd need his ship's help but then ... then he could pinpoint a location; he's sure of it.

But then he has always been a little overconfident about running headlong into danger and saving his friends.) ]

But I have seen people taken in by an alien force, absorbed into it, really. Turned into something else, something not like themselves ... and then made into emotionless, killing machines.

[groupiedrifter]

[His fingers curl into anxious fists where they sit on the counter.

Emotionless killing machines. It makes his blood freeze and his thoughts fuzz up.]

That's what they wanted to do, too. Just not use my body, but — um. They started doing weird stuff to me, put thoughts in my head over and over until I started believing it. And at the end, the precursors said... that eventually I'd be absorbed. Into the hivemind. I know at the end of everything, they were already starting to take parts of me away. Like, uh... like how — ants start taking parts of a dying insect, even when they're not totally dead yet?

[It's the closest thing he can think of, to explain it. That feeling... that visual. It's fresh enough that he feels hot all over.]

I'm a little worried they absorbed parts of me, and those parts died with them.

hides timestamp with hand

[lateness]

[ The Doctor frowns deeply, Newt's explanation of the precursors ringing far too many bells of his own past experiences with the Cybermen, among some other less savoury alien races.

It chills something deep within him, it's downright haunting, hearing of alien races that would aim to devour others in such a way. It's savage and barbaric and cruel, and he looks at Newt now and absolutely hates that he couldn't see it before. They'd all been fooled by those things, and any memories they might have had in the dreamscape locked away.

He quietly clenches a fist. ]

What parts are you afraid they've taken?

👀 looks betwixt ur fingers | cw: mental health stuff wooohooo

[groupiedrifter]

I don't...

[He seems to consider his words before he can speak them, smoothing his hands over his knees nervously. Moments like these, he feels like every inch of him is uncomfortable, like he doesn't fit in his body correctly anymore.]

It feels like I'm numb. I'm so numb, I can't tell if stuff's been amputated. Like... the things I should love go right through me. I sit at my desk and stare at blank journals until someone knocks. I don't trust my thoughts anymore, so I've been staying away from everyone else. And when someone hugs me or takes my hand or comforts me, there's this little voice in the back of my head — it, uhhhhm. It just says don't touch me over and over... and I'm scared it'll always be there, and the numbness isn't temporary, and they won in making me something I'm not, even after they're gone.

What if I'm just some dimmer, more pathetic version of Newt Geiszler now?

[lateness]

Oh, you'll never be that, Newt Geiszler.

[ How does he sound so sure about that? Well, it's because he's the Doctor, that's why. And he believes it too. That helps. ]

There's enough of you there, enough that they haven't taken that you'll find it all again. It'll flicker back to life. It'll grow stronger.

Suppose it'll just take some time. And I've never been very good at it, you know: time, that is. The waiting bit, I always skipped it all to get to the good part. [ That's the thing about being a Time Lord and having a time-and-spaceship that can pop in and out, skipping the long, boring bits. It isn't like that now, but the Doctor finds ... he's all right with it.

Maybe the skipping was cheating anyway.

And if it means he can be there for a friend, for once, he'll try. That's new. ] But if it helps, if any of it helps at all, I'll wait with you, eh? If you want.

[groupiedrifter]

[He listens and hangs on the Doctor's every word, because he knows he can't at all trust his own right now. Truth be told, it's hard not to take the Precursor's insults to heart in the aftermath of what's happened; they always did tell him every pitfall in his personality, crippled whatever confidence in himself he'd mustered. But the Doctor? What reason would he have to distrust his answers?

It's like the Time Lord thinks: he's the Doctor, and if he's sure, then that's that.

Breathing a deep breath, he nods.]

Thanks. And.

[A pause.]

I guess while we're here —

[He scoots in and takes the Doctor's shoulders, dragging him close and planting a comically loud smooch to one of his cheeks. When he pulls back, he looks a little less like a wilted flower — and a touch like the doofus who would do such a thing.]

Just returning the favor for the greeting you smacked me with in my own head.

You kiss like an old Italian grandpa, you know that?

[lateness]

[ The Doctor's expression goes from solemn to surprised to absolutely delighted, the small grin on his face turning into a soft laugh. ]

Ha-hah — is that what they call it, then? [ He waves a hand as though he's about to introduce tonight's on-stage headliner: ] The Italian Grandpa.

Well, it isn't so bad, is it?