[ OPEN LOG ] Moonage Daydream

[attackbrows]

||| Prelude — Eternal Melody | ???? ( Dreamshare );

[ When the crew returned to the station and resolved their 'internal problem', the air became thick with uncertainty. Another orb was in their possession and yet (once more), their accomplishment came with nothing but bittersweetness. He returned to his room with far too much on his mind. And that made the rest of the station sound noisier than usual.

In times like these, The Doctor needs a reprieve from the rest of the universe. Being stuck within the confines of four walls will not cut it. Being stuck within the confines of four walls would not cut it. The Doctor steps out of his room and makes a beeline for the Sunlight Room. There, within the vast array of plant life and water, he finds a secluded sit-down and have a think… ]

[ Perhaps you are a telepath, or perhaps you are a big sleeper who falls easily into the realm of dreams. At some point, you will find yourself in a whole different world. A world that from any place you haven’t travelled to or from any of the previous mission locations.

There doesn’t seem to be a lick of sunlight bursting from above, but everything around you is perfectly lit to a cool, blue-green daylight. It is a bright and vibrant village full of calming song. But eventually, you will find The Doctor standing in the middle of the forest. The most unordinary object in this scene is the wheelable chalkboard in front of him, filled to the brim with equations and markings of a different world.

He knows you’re here. After all, you’re in his dream. Instead of turning to acknowledge your presence, he continues to write on his chalkboard. Before you begin to speak (or approach him), he interrupts you: ]

...Your regret. How much does it mean to you?

||| Part I — Soft Machine | Common Living Area;

[ The living area isn’t exactly the epicentre of excitement. A quiet sit down here, a friendly game of chess there… The Doctor is a night owl by nature. His sleep cycle comes few and far between. When it comes to keeping himself occupied, he has to get creative (literally)...

He finds a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. Two seemingly innocuous tools and begins sketching out different things that pop into mind: foreign star systems, skulls, flowers. As much as he can to fill the page. ]

||| Part II — Wicked Vibrations | Mess Hall;

[ You know what they say: Don’t play with your food. Especially on a space station with finite resources. But The Doctor is a respectful old chap. He can behave himself (mostly).

There really shouldn’t be a reason for him to have his electric guitar, but he brought it with him, anyway. A large mug of coffee sits by his side as tunes his guitar. All his attention is on fine-tuning his instrument until a thought pops into his head— ]

I missed my game with Chopin!

||| Closed Starters |||
Clara Oswald | River Song | The Doctor (11)
Xichen | Rosinante

Comments

CLOSED — To the Doctor (11) ; cw: stab wounds, (possible) blood

[attackbrows]

[ A time lord’s anatomy is durable, capable of taking sizeable cuts and whacks on the head. But The Doctor certainly is not susceptible to having a blade cut into his flesh.

So when The Doctor caught wind of the other’s injury, first and foremost, he made sure that Clara and River were taken care of. It made little sense to rejoin his younger iteration to lick their collective wounds when there were much bigger things to handle.

Once he felt they were all in the clear, he made his way to the infirmary. He enters the room with a tray decorated with goods only The Doctor may appreciate: a bowl of broth, a piping hot cup of tea, and an anthology book of fairy tales. ]

Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey…

[ He calls out in his utmost deadpan Scottish tone. ]

Your caretaker has arrived.

[lateness]

I don't need a caretaker. I was the caretaker — am the caretaker.

[ Well. As is evidenced by the Eyebrows, that much remains clear.

And yet this Doctor huffs petulantly, because he's been here for more than a few hours and he's restless and he's bored, but he was very firmly instructed to stay put or else. So. He's here.

He doesn't know if he's ready to face Marta Cabrera's 'or else'. Especially not with a wound he can't heal (at least a little) on his own without setting off an explosion that would span the entire length of the station and then some.

He's silent for a second more before he peers over towards the bowl in the other Doctor's hands. ]

Is that soup?

[attackbrows]

[ Ah, yes. The petulance. How can he possibly forget? He always did wear that well on his sleeve. Like a child being told to eat their broccoli.

The tray already has a set of legs built in so that when The Doctor rests it over the other’s lap, it's already sitting upright like a proper table. ]

The only soup I remember fancying the most.

[ He knows how much he can be a very picky eater. So he couldn't go on picking broths from any old recipe. ]

Don’t make me spoon feed it to you. It’s already awkward that I’m feeding myself.

[lateness]

[ Look. It's all a part of the charm. And arguably, it's also a part of the process in making himself feel a little better. Get all that petulant, frustrated energy out and all that.

But he's admittedly quite pleased with the treatment he's received so far. Sometimes being cared for isn't actually so bad. Who would have thought?

The Doctor's mouth twists into amusement and he lets out a huff of laughter. ]

It's quite all right, old-me. [ That's a 'thank you', by the way. ] Have a seat then. [ He gestures to the empty chair beside his bed, the one Marta had often occupied if it hadn't been Clara. And as for him, he'll get started on that soup now with not another moment to waste.

Admittedly it smells wonderful. ]

[attackbrows]

[ That’s all he needs to hear. The Doctor takes a few steps backwards and then turns to sit on the rather comfy chair on the other side of the infirmary bed. He sinks deep into the seat with his legs crossed. In times like these, he feels more like a babysitter to himself than any. Not out of distrust (now that’ll be a feast for any psychologist), but he thinks to himself, “What would Amelia Pond do?” Those tiny acts of kindness whenever the Ponds and he found themselves at their wit’s end.

…He really misses Amy. ]

I’ll let it slide just this once. [ He gestures towards the other. ] You getting injured like this. But make my blood pressure rise again and I’ll personally tuck you inside a puppy trolley.

[ He says it more out of jest than any. The younger Doctor saved Clara just in the nick of time before the Precursors did their worst. It was the best outcome for both parties. ]

wildcard; (ish) god i'm sorry this is peak (hangs out in the rafters of the tavern) tag

[blackfire]

（ itachi is sitting in one of the chairs in the far corner of the common room, one with the broadest view of its surroundings and no room for anyone to come up behind or above him. it's been deliberately selected, but despite that overt show of caution he seems otherwise relaxed, legs crossed delicately at the ankle, as he reads.

there is a stack of textbooks beside him, ranging from the 'highschool simple' to the 'specialized college intense', and he seems to read at an unnaturally fast clip, turning pages every few seconds.

there is a chess board set out on the table in front of him, and an open seat opposite. whenever the doctor (meanders, saunters, strides) past, red eyes lift from the book and he studies the man with open consideration.

it is, more than anything, itachi's consideration for clara that prompts him to speak: ）

Would you like to join me for a game?

（ he'll set aside the books for that. ）

it's 🤌🤌🤌

[attackbrows]

[ The Doctor doesn’t pay mind to a lot of things that go on at the station. But when Itachi invites him in for a game, that immediately stops him in place. He turns to glance at the chessboard and the empty seat across the table. ]

Do you regularly pull crewmates in this manner?

[ He inquires as he pulls up said empty chair to sit. ]

Or is this your first time?

[blackfire]

For chess? No. My only regular opponent in this regard is Viveca-san.

（ they have an app. it's a whole thing. her mind is fascinating, and even though he loses considerably more games than he wins, he is constantly learning and adapting to the theatre of her incredible foresight. she is a challenge — and it is not often, in things of this nature, that he feels challenged. he only hopes she can think the same of him despite their disparity in skill.

the book is tipped closed, and he sets it atop the pile of the rest, which are squared neatly on the side-table beside the chair. no haphazard mess, this. ）

Do you prefer black or white?

[attackbrows]

Black.

[ Just like the colour of his soul. He can’t quite recall why this body is so drawn to the colour black. Black coat, black jumper, black trousers, black boots… In fairness, however, The Doctor does like to add a splash of red every now and then. It does a remarkable job at polishing the whole “unkempt magician” style.

He crosses his legs and slouches over the table. ]

Should’ve known. [ He brings his chair closer to the table. ] The perfect opponent for the typical wallflower.

CLOSED — To Rosinante ;

[attackbrows]

[ Call it boredom. Call it an unrelenting itch he can’t scratch. But The Doctor couldn’t let himself fall victim to the monotonous routine at the station. One moment you are having pudding in the mess hall and the next, you are counting how many fibres there are in your jumper.

That’s part of the reason for having a friendly spar match with Rosinante. A quick thrill to keep his brain occupied. Nothing more, nothing less.

The simulation program is nothing complex. All they need is the open sea and a pirate vessel to run around on. As far as weapons go? Rosinante has his weapon of choice. The Doctor on the other hand? He opts for a more unconventional option that he will soon disclose.

He stands there on the main deck, hands folded together. As tempted as he was to change into more appropriate wares, he finds that the clothing on his back will do just fine. He’ll leave the decorative pomp and circumstance to his younger iteration. ]

[callada]

[At the appointed time, Rosinante pops in through the door and strides across the deck, looking it over. He's actually initially curious about the ship itself. What sort of details does this Doctor know? How similar is it to the vessels he's more familiar with?

But the curiosity gives way to an assessment with the duel in mind. Masts and rigging and the layout of the upper deck are all things not to trip on, and things instead to trap an opponent in, if he's able to do so.

He has a rapier at his hip - lightweight but awfully long, given it's suited for his height and therefore nearly double the standard length. Otherwise, he too is casually dressed. It's just for a bit of fun, right?]

Nice ship. An invention of yours, or is this one you've had a run-in with before on your travels?

[attackbrows]

This? [ He points to the floor. ] No. Never had the patience to build a ship on my own.

[ Is he being serious or is he joking around? Who knows! #ItsStillAMystery ]

You’re standing on The Queen Anne’s Revenge, belonging to a one Captain Blackbeard. Earth. Circa 1717.

[callada]

Huh. Cool choice.

[That sounds like a name that's supposed to be significant, but it's lost on him. Still, nice-looking ship, and he appreciates the attempt to provide something that's vaguely familiar to him.

He takes the hilt of his rapier in hand.]

I'll propose one rule: water's out of bounds.

CLOSED — To River Song ;

[attackbrows]

[ Both Clara and the younger regeneration of The Doctor had found their “buddy system”, so to speak. There is some solace he can take that she won’t ever be too far away. But the more these missions continue to heighten, the more The Doctor feels it necessary to see that River is faring well. Protect would be the more appropriate word, but he knows that will only result in a good whack on the head. The most important thing is that there isn’t a repeat of The Library. The least he can do is to see she doesn’t return to the Datacore.

For now, he waits for the right moment for mummy and daddy to have some alone time in their quarters. He steps into the room brandishing a bottle of Braccian wine and two glasses. ]

Figured you could use a refreshment.

[spoilers]

[ It's unusual that they find themselves alone. In fact, River's been doing a fine job avoiding being alone with either version of her husband for some time now, the reasons for which she'd rather not explore too closely. But with his younger self being injured (not that he won't be perfectly all right), things what they are with Newt, and her sleeping even less than usual...well, maybe she can use the company.

No matter if she has been practicing avoidance tactics, his entrance gets a soft smile.

Two missions on, she at least thinks he's past being angry with her. Her own anger isn't what it was either, though she still certainly isn't happy with how things had turned out.

Taking one of the glasses from his hand, she moves to sit on the bed, stretching out and patting the space beside her. ]

You're sure you haven't got anywhere more important to be?

[attackbrows]

Schedule's all cleared up.

[ He walks over to the other side with a sheepish smirk.

When The Doctor settles on the bed, he pops the cork and begins filling River’s glass. ]

Tonight it's just me and you and an overexerted crew.

[spoilers]

[ She nods slowly, as if she's debating whether or not she believes him. But eventually, apparently having decided, she takes a sip of her wine. ]

It's been a long time since we've done this.

[ Her words are soft, but more than loud enough in the otherwise empty room. He doesn't even remember the last time they spent time like this, and that nearly brings a tired laugh. ]

Where have you been, my love?

[ As if she hasn't been the one avoiding him. Maybe they've been avoiding each other. ]

CLOSED — To Xichen ;

[attackbrows]

[ The Sunlight Room is where The Doctor’s and Xichen’s paths meet. They settled quietly into the calmness of their surroundings. As artificial as the breeze is, at least it gives off the illusion that there isn’t a cold, sterile hallway waiting for them beyond the trees.

The Doctor sits on the grass with his legs crossed while holding his guitar. Instead of playing a bombastic tune, he chooses something more soft spoken.

Either isn't obligated to dwell on what happened last mission. For all he cares, the two can settle here for hours on end until one of them feels ready to speak. ]

[calmness]

[ instead of bringing his flute, xichen has pulled his guqin from the pouch that normally hangs at his side.

it makes matching the melody that the doctor has chosen easier, playing accompanying notes as they come to mind. they play for a while, not speaking, but eventually the music fades and xichen stills the strings of the qin with his palms.

they've been here for quite some time and xichen has not seen anyone pass by. the mood of the station was shifted, something has changed. ] It seems like it is just the two of us out of our rooms today.

CLOSED — To Clara Oswald ;

[attackbrows]

[ There isn’t exactly a day or night cycle on the Ximilia. Most Orbers went to bed when they felt tired enough to nod off. And that is what more or less The Doctor tries to do, wait until the clock hits a certain time and feign being sleepy for the sake of Clara having a decent night’s rest.

They lie together in bed. The Doctor has his arm over Clara’s shoulders for her to settle in and read a novel together. As if either can concentrate in the first place. There is still the elephant in the room of what took place in those last few days. All he can do is keep to himself and hope that she falls asleep on her own. ]

[bossily]

[Despite everything that had transpired on the last mission, Clara realizes she can't hide away from the rest of the station forever. They'll have a new mission to go on soon, and she's just not the sort of person to give up. But taking a break is something different altogether. Everyone needs one sometimes, and right now the Doctor is helping her relax so she can enjoy hers.

She snuggles in close against him, and gives the book a tap so he'll know to open it. Clara always loves a good book, and this one is new from the supply drop. It's one she's never even heard of before, and she's eager to dig in and see what it's all about.

Though after a few chapters her attention starts to drift away from the words on the page, and her head tips as she looks up to watch him.]

Admit it. You thought I'd be asleep by now.

[She's smiling in the way she reserves for him alone, oh so pleased that he's willing to be a pillow for her at the moment.]

[attackbrows]

[ He quirks an eyebrow. Of course, she’d catch on. They’ve been at this little routine for quite a while. As much as he loves to have Clara at his side, he knows the mind reaps what it sows. That becomes especially true for humans and their rest. The last thing he needs is an irate English teacher with bags heavier than sand.

It’s there he shifts his position so that he’s much closer to her. Enough so that he can smell the scent of shampoo she uses.

He retorts in a quiet and dry manner, ]

No, I was hoping you’d have a spark of genius and give me a lecture on Dostoevsky.

[bossily]

[She dryly laughs, leaning better against him as she does. Things between them have felt tense ever since their conversation about regrets and being here. A part of her is still worried he'll see her differently and decide he doesn't like the person she's become.

Losing the Doctor is something she knows will have to happen once she leaves. But she isn't sure she can stomach the thought of it happening here. Not when they have such precious borrowed time.]

I'm saving that for when I need to put you to sleep.

[She retorts, voice warm as she lovingly teases him. Reading a book together can't fix the fractures that intense conversation had upon him. But she hopes that it serves to remind him of just how much she cares for him. This sort of calm stillness isn't something she indulges in with just anyone.]

When's the last time you properly rested, Doctor?

[It's a taunt. As if she might start giving him a lecture at any moment, depending on his answer.]

Dreamshare | Wanders in here with cookies and tea

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter has no idea how he got here. He has no Celestial powers anymore, but even if he did, he would not use them to mess with people's minds like his father did. But on the rare occasions where he can sleep without nightmares when he is truly exhausted, he is by all intents and purposes dead to the world. And gods, has the last week been completely exhausting.

Maybe it's been the deep sleep or the technology they use to communicate, but either way, Peter is there. He stares at his surroundings in confusion until the Doctor's voice almost makes him jump out of his skin. ]

I, ehm... [ Peter wonders if viv and the Captain can monitor their dreams too, if they are overhearing. He hopes not, because he doesn't trust them, and the only reason why he stays in the Ximilia is because he wants to figure out the truth behind the orbs. His own family back home might be at risk if these things are not under control or destroyed. ]

A lot, but not enough to cross some limits. The person who I am doing things for wouldn't want me to turn into a monster. How about you?

► dreamshare

[cairhien]

( dreamers are rare in those that can channel, people that are capable of navigating their dreams, of the dreaming world. moiraine is not a dreamer, a talent she has nothing of, though everyone turns to the dreaming world when they sleep. so the only part that's surprising is that it feels more lucid to her, walking a path that she doesn't know, a village she's never seen before.

and then a person she does know. but it's a dream, so as yet she doesn't question it, only mildly quickening her steps to stop in line with him, quietly thinking on his question for a time. moiraine doesn't need to think of the answer just whether she wants to admit it.

but she does )

The person it involves means a lot to me.