The Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themadmanwithabox) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2014-03-09 09:56 pm
themadmanwithabox) wrote in all_inclusive2014-03-09 09:56 pm
Entry tags:
Once we're gone, you won't be coming back here for a while
There's a doorway to New York City standing before the Doctor.
It's a recognizable sight that anyone would know from the gleaming lights of the skyline in the background and the Empire State Building in the glory of its construction looms above it all, though the Doctor can't move his eyes. He knows this city and he knows the year. He knows that this is New York City in the 1930's and he knows that Amy and Rory are there. If he walks through that door, he will see them again. Even this hotel with its infinite possibilities and all its doors can't bring him back to them.
He can walk through that door, but there's one large problem standing in his way.
"Don't move," he says to whomever has come up next to him. He can feel their presence with the breath in his general area, he can tell that he isn't alone given the way the hairs on his arms have begun to stand up on end. The Doctor stares before him, but avoids looking at the eyes because he's been in this situation before and he knows what looking in its eyes will do. "Don't blink," he breathes out.
He has to close this door. He has to close this door and leave the possibility of Amy and Rory behind. It's far too dangerous. There's no telling if he could even get back if he managed to get past the Weeping Angel, who guards the door, only offering the scantest bit of space to move past. If he gets past that Weeping Angel guarding New York City, he can find them and he can...he can, do what? He can warn them? He can try and tell them to get out of that graveyard before Rory looks at the gravestone?
Time can be rewritten, Amy's voice whispers in his mind with all its temptations and all its promises. I know it can. Can he do that? Can he walk through this door and risk unleashing a lethal enemy on the hotel behind him? All for the sake of companions he had thought lost. High upon a cloud, he had mourned them until a remnant of the future past had brought him down, but now he's faced with something far more difficult.
He can get them back.
But people will likely die in the process. If he goes through that door, that Weeping Angel will come in and it won't stop. He doesn't blink, not for a moment, but his vision clouds as he stares at the creature that had taken them away from him, at the monster who stands between them. What does he do? What does the Doctor do?
It's a recognizable sight that anyone would know from the gleaming lights of the skyline in the background and the Empire State Building in the glory of its construction looms above it all, though the Doctor can't move his eyes. He knows this city and he knows the year. He knows that this is New York City in the 1930's and he knows that Amy and Rory are there. If he walks through that door, he will see them again. Even this hotel with its infinite possibilities and all its doors can't bring him back to them.
He can walk through that door, but there's one large problem standing in his way.
"Don't move," he says to whomever has come up next to him. He can feel their presence with the breath in his general area, he can tell that he isn't alone given the way the hairs on his arms have begun to stand up on end. The Doctor stares before him, but avoids looking at the eyes because he's been in this situation before and he knows what looking in its eyes will do. "Don't blink," he breathes out.
He has to close this door. He has to close this door and leave the possibility of Amy and Rory behind. It's far too dangerous. There's no telling if he could even get back if he managed to get past the Weeping Angel, who guards the door, only offering the scantest bit of space to move past. If he gets past that Weeping Angel guarding New York City, he can find them and he can...he can, do what? He can warn them? He can try and tell them to get out of that graveyard before Rory looks at the gravestone?
Time can be rewritten, Amy's voice whispers in his mind with all its temptations and all its promises. I know it can. Can he do that? Can he walk through this door and risk unleashing a lethal enemy on the hotel behind him? All for the sake of companions he had thought lost. High upon a cloud, he had mourned them until a remnant of the future past had brought him down, but now he's faced with something far more difficult.
He can get them back.
But people will likely die in the process. If he goes through that door, that Weeping Angel will come in and it won't stop. He doesn't blink, not for a moment, but his vision clouds as he stares at the creature that had taken them away from him, at the monster who stands between them. What does he do? What does the Doctor do?
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"What about vampire and something else," he suggests, beginning to feel his mood pick up as possibilities begin to filter in, giving him the delight of distancing himself from what was and projecting him into what might and could be. "Vampire bellhop?" he says. "Vampire life coach. Vampire death coach?" he tries again, not sure how his outlook stands when it comes to the life and death scenarios.
"Nutritional consult on blood? Or suncare?"
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It's refreshing, honestly. And he needed that laugh.
"I'm actually sort of the CEO of a law firm that specializes in supernatural dealings, but it's kind of gone under recently." Way under.
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In the midst of creating a set of fangs for himself to use out of his index fingers, the Doctor stumbles, giving Angel a dubious look. "You could have tried to stray further away from the bloodsucking lawyer stereotype," he accuses, and it's his life, his choice, but really, the Doctor would have liked, just once, to meet an evil vampire-like being that didn't conform to the old types, like lawyer or scumbag or secret-alien-fish-intent-on-sucking.
"You have time! Time to rebrand!" he claps Angel on the shoulder. "Now, tell me, have you ever thought about vampire acupuncture," he sells, waving a palm in front of them as if to paint a picture.
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His eyebrows shoot up at the suggestion. "Vampire acupuncture? I hope you're not suggesting a fang replacement to the traditional needle method."
It's probably a good thing he never has, else he likely would've employed it when he was taunting Holtz while rampaging his way across Europe in the late 18th Century.
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Claws? The only time he'd had anything resembling that was in Pylea where the metaphysical laws that governed that world had done a royal number on the demon within. That had been a rather terrifying, traumatizing experience that he didn't revisit too often.
He shakes his head. "I'm afraid we're of the declawed variety where I come from."
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Which is true of him regardless of whether or not he's a vampire with a soul or a human wearing unhealthy amounts of vampire glamour.