onepassingnight | ᴏɴᴇ ✄ something's wrong

[[OOC: Warning's for slight violence.]]

[It was like a heartbeat. Each passing moment, heartbeats. The steady rhythmic thump that would normally seem so calming, especially when sleeping, was a sure sign something was wrong. Everything was quiet besides the thump-thump. Then a gun is being cocked. Bang. Shotgun. That's what it is.

Thump-thump. Heart beat's normal. Regular. It's now that a boy starts to make his way into view. There's a whistling that takes over the heart beating, along with his footsteps down a hallway. Where is he? School. Lockers surround him, black and white tiles coat the floor. The boy's tall, blonde, but what's wrong with his face? There's blood dripping down it. Wait, that was right, right? There was blood dripping down it. His hair was a bloody mess, too. Oh, no. He's got a fine face now. Just fine. That blood was only an illusion.

Suddenly, the scenery changes. Tate's in a library. There's a girl under the table, crying. Whimpering. Things are quiet. No more whistling. No more heartbeat. Just her. He pushes the table back and -- Violet? No. That's wrong. The scenery changes again, and he's in the basement of a large house, holding a red ball.

He looks confused. None of his dreams have ever been so meshed together like this.]

[ooc: haaayyy! sorry if this isn't..the right way to post? IDK IT'S MY FIRST ONE. if something's not right, lemme know. also, i am super excite to play with everyone c:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And the title Professor or Doctor is at title you give to people. So, hush!

[ He flicks Tate in the forehead. Stop that, ssssh. ]

Now! Where are we, exactly? And don't say "my dreams" because it's rather obvious we're in a rather creepy basement in your dreams.

[As soon as he even raises a finger towards him, Tate grabs the Doctor's wrist. He doesn't move, but his grip is strong. It's a warning, before he lets him go.]

Don't touch me.

[His jaw is clenching and unclenching, but he does eventually answer.]

That's just it. We're in the basement of the house in my dreams.

Edited 2011-12-02 04:59 (UTC)

[ The Doctor pulls his hand back and waves his wrist around. Ow. ]

Sorry, is this your house... or just a basement in a house that happens to be in your dreams.

It's not my house. It belongs to a psychiatrist and a woman who's crazy and their daughter.

[He seems a little gentler now, at least.]

Right. So, the basement of people you know that just happens to be what you're dreaming about. Got it. Do you normally dream about basements, or is this something new? I normally don't dream about basements--I normally don't dream at all. Funny thing about Time Lords. They don't actually sleep like you lot do. We doze. Lately I've been having all sorts of dreams, but well, I'm sure there's a reason for it. Normally minds aren't supposed to cross realities like this but here we are! Give me some time and a paperclip. I might be able to find out what it is--sorry, rambling, you'll get used to it.

[ He turns back to Tate. ] You never told me your name. A bit rude, don't you think? Make me introduce myself but not return the favor. What are they teaching you kids in the--22nd--no, 21st Century?

[He has never heard anyone talk for that long in a long time, which may or may not be noticeable with the way he contrasts the long rambling with a few words.]

Tate. It's not a favor, it's a choice, isn't it?

No! It's called manners.

Maybe for you to point it out makes you the one with the bad manners. Seems like you're the kind of person to bother with things like that. I wonder who puts up with you.

Loads of people put up with me! Who puts up with you?

Not many.

[He's being truthful for once, and with that, his eyes almost look ... sad, but it's only a flash, and they're back to a small glare.]

Well, I'll be one of those few. How about that?

[He's silent for a moment.]

Why?

Why? Why not? Everyone needs a someone that worries and bothers.

[He had one of those at home.]

You think so?

I know so.

Well. Maybe you should try convincing my mother that.

[It's a rather angry reply, but it's what he's dealt with for most of his life. Slash dead!life.]

People that care don't have to be your family.

I know that. But it's how it's supposed to be.

And who ever said that, eh?

Family cares for family. That's how it is. Sometimes bad things happen in between that makes everything fuck up, though. Better watch out for that.

Not always. And sometimes, friends are family.

You have an excuse for everything, don't you?

It's not an excuse!

It is.

It's an explanation. Completely different!

(no subject)

ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com - 2011-12-14 00:51 (UTC) - Expand