Post by The Master on Nov 17, 2020 16:19:04 GMT
And while you are sitting indoors
waiting for the storm to pass
I will be outside dancing in the rain
waiting for the storm to pass
I will be outside dancing in the rain
❧
Regeneration was rarely a messy occurrence for the Master. Like most Timelords, he tended direct them to some degree, allowing for some amount of control and expectation in who he would change into. Of course, some among his own kind would likely argue that the Master in particular took it a step further. Instead of holding direction, he leaned almost towards methodical. How many had held the same face before? Perhaps even the Master himself had forgotten.
The Master had awoken to find himself on the ground of his TARDIS which was now a bigger mess than it had been before. Distantly, something seemed to be ringing. Or was it close? It was hard to tell. Everything was new and different. With a fair amount of difficulty, he struggled to get up, his legs not seeming to want to work with him in the way he desired them to. Worse, it appeared that he seemed that the clothes he was almost swimming in the clothes he was wearing.
"Good god," he said in disgust. He was used to being short and to some degree had no problem with it. However, it was clear that he was a great deal shorter than his last regeneration, likely standing on the shorter end of any of them- or at least of the ones he could even recall. What did he even look like right now?
A grimace crossed his face at the sight of his TARDIS. "What did that fool do?" Flickers of what he- or rather, the last him- had done crept to the surface. Annoyance crept to the surface. Idiot! It was one thing to shoot himself. But the fool had done much worse than that in the name of pride. Or was it pride? It was so hard to tell, with everything so muddled, trying to organize itself.
One thing was certain, he could not stay here.
Frowning at the control panel, it took a moment for everything to come into place before he made to leave. He didn't particularly care where he was going so long as it was not here. Silently, the TARDIS whirled away before landing elsewhere, the landing none too gentle. A sigh escaped him. He'd have to make repairs. There was no doubt that there were damages. But first, clothing.
Heading off to the wardrobe, he took a look in the mirror. How familiar, he mused. The face was vaguely familiar, more reminiscent of younger regenerations, of the person he once had been. It was younger than his last face had looked, as well as had been starting to look. More notably, he was on the shorter end, standing closer to the height he'd been around the end of his first regeneration cycle.
Turning his attention to his wardrobe, he absently picked through everything with a growing annoyance. "Everything is terrible!" Only taking enough time to lock the TARDIS, he stormed out, not taking much time to see where he was. Clearly, it was time to get things in order.
The Master had awoken to find himself on the ground of his TARDIS which was now a bigger mess than it had been before. Distantly, something seemed to be ringing. Or was it close? It was hard to tell. Everything was new and different. With a fair amount of difficulty, he struggled to get up, his legs not seeming to want to work with him in the way he desired them to. Worse, it appeared that he seemed that the clothes he was almost swimming in the clothes he was wearing.
"Good god," he said in disgust. He was used to being short and to some degree had no problem with it. However, it was clear that he was a great deal shorter than his last regeneration, likely standing on the shorter end of any of them- or at least of the ones he could even recall. What did he even look like right now?
A grimace crossed his face at the sight of his TARDIS. "What did that fool do?" Flickers of what he- or rather, the last him- had done crept to the surface. Annoyance crept to the surface. Idiot! It was one thing to shoot himself. But the fool had done much worse than that in the name of pride. Or was it pride? It was so hard to tell, with everything so muddled, trying to organize itself.
One thing was certain, he could not stay here.
Frowning at the control panel, it took a moment for everything to come into place before he made to leave. He didn't particularly care where he was going so long as it was not here. Silently, the TARDIS whirled away before landing elsewhere, the landing none too gentle. A sigh escaped him. He'd have to make repairs. There was no doubt that there were damages. But first, clothing.
Heading off to the wardrobe, he took a look in the mirror. How familiar, he mused. The face was vaguely familiar, more reminiscent of younger regenerations, of the person he once had been. It was younger than his last face had looked, as well as had been starting to look. More notably, he was on the shorter end, standing closer to the height he'd been around the end of his first regeneration cycle.
Turning his attention to his wardrobe, he absently picked through everything with a growing annoyance. "Everything is terrible!" Only taking enough time to lock the TARDIS, he stormed out, not taking much time to see where he was. Clearly, it was time to get things in order.
505 words ● open ● ....
