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bow down before the one you serve

Master Prompt List. [15 Jan 2028|08:09pm]
WM Prompt List - Here

Set 27
27.8 (RP) - Ruffled Feathers (Fifth Doctor)

Set 19
19.1B - "What's to become of me, then?"
19.5C - Smoking

Set 17
17.1B - "Oh, but my dear, you really should be careful about whom you're seen associating with, or your own reputation will suffer."

5 obeyed | bow down before the one you serve

[23 Feb 2008|01:50pm]
A 'meme', as borrowed courteously from what I've gathered to be the tenth incarnation of the Doctor. Ten things I enjoy, starting with the letter V.

And since fair is fair, if anyone would like a letter to do the same, feel free to comment and I shall find one for you.



1. Villainy - Something I engage in, from time to time, and most thoroughly enjoy.

2. Violins - I've always had a soft spot for violins and the music played upon them. For something that was originally a human means of creating music - never mind the fact that it spread across the universe in rather short order - I find that they're incredibly well-crafted. And that they require real skill to use, properly. I find myself wondering why I never took the time to learn.

3. Virgil - Publius Vergilius Maro. Epic poet of the Roman Empire and author of the Aeneid. The man had a great mind, particularly where those books are concerned. Suicide, revenge, a call to war delivered by the fury, Allecto, herself. Truly a shame that he expired before the story was complete.

4. Vestpockets - Where else would I keep the tools of my trade?

5. Venus - Ironic that a planet that humans considered to be one of love should have given rise to such adept warriors. Still, it fails to change the fact that they are, nor does it change the fact that I regret never having found the knack for their martial arts - Venusian aikido, specifically. I did, however, learn quite a bit otherwise about hand-to-hand combat, here.

6. Vitality - Particularly my own.

7. Velvet - Comfortable. Need I say more?

8. Voltaire - His criticism of the establishments of Earth quite mirror my own bitterness towards the government and intrigues of my own planet. He also had a gift for charm and sarcasm, and a knack for twisting a situation to his advantage to escape his enemies. Tell me what, exactly, is not to like?

9. Vineyards - For the most part beautiful and productive. And without, I would not be able to indulge in wine, from time to time.

10. Violence - I've been told I'm a sadist; does that answer your question?

bow down before the one you serve

19.1B - "What's to become of me, then?" [09 Feb 2008|06:32pm]
He feels beast more than Time Lord now more than ever, and despite the fact that he'd like very much to blame it on the physical changes or the mental ones, he knows those barely factor in. The slitted, yellowed eyes. The fangs that have replaced proper, normal canines. The claws he's manifested over the last few months, making wearing gloves impossible. The urge to hunt, to run, to kill by cornering some poor thing in a darkened corner and ripping its throat out with his mouth. It's disturbing, yes, particularly because the planet that ravaged him is long since dust, and every day he feels further removed from his former self and his former glory. But it's not at the heart of the matter.

No, instead, he lays the blame for his current feelings of loss of self on the cell on Skaro he's locked in, awaiting trial. And the fact that, pacing the cage like the animal he's become, he can't even begin to think of a way out. Not that he hasn't tried - he has, a dozen times over, but nothing has worked. Nothing has worked, and all he can do now is lean against the bars of the cell, ignoring the unpleasant threads of pain it laces into his arms and chest, meant to keep him at bay.

Time passes. How much, he's not sure, as he's lost count and even the rhythm he started drumming out on the bars to count out the time - one second for every repetition - no longer helps. He's starving and exhausted - by Time Lord standards not a human's - so he can at least guess it's been days, but beyond that, he has no idea. So, he has no sense of how long it takes the Daleks to come for him, only that they do.

"You will follow me," the one in charge growls at him, as it unlocks his holding pen.

And while he's barely able to hold himself up as his perch is taken away from him as the door swings free and surely unable to try and escape now, he can't help but question. "What's to become of me, then?"

"You are to be exterminated." Just as casually as it answered, it backs towards the door, keeping its weapons leveled on him before repeating, "You will follow."

In that instant, he knows that he's lost, that it's finally over. And it crushes what little will he has left to think he's to be killed by a Dalek, rather than felled by the Doctor's hand as he had always hoped.



Muse: The Master (Three)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 435

bow down before the one you serve

19.5C - Smoking [15 Jan 2008|09:18pm]
The Master has never been entirely certain why he started smoking.

He knows that it has nothing to do with the human concept of peer pressure, because by the time he starts, he's convinced he has no peers. Surely, it's not to follow along with the trends of other, great dictators - 'looking cool' is the euphemism they used, the last time he was on Earth - despite the fact that Fidel Castro himself gave him his first cigar. And he doubts entirely that it's an oral fixation - that's the Doctor's department, not his - as psychologists might try to lead him to believe. When you get right down to it, though, it doesn't matter why he started. Only that he does and that a week into wearing Tremas' face, and just after his escape from Castrovalva, he finds a half-finished box in his Tardis.

The cigars are old, impossibly so, but he had the good sense to put them in a stasis chamber last time he was inclined to light up, so they're still fresh. Finding the small, silver lighter he stole from someone after he killed them - the who of it, again, is one of the unimportant things - he puts the cigar between his teeth and flicks it open to light it. And in the process, and thanks to the gloves he's been wearing for longer than he can remember, he nearly sets himself alight.

The cigar falls from his lips, forgotten, lighter dropped, and he loses himself in his thoughts. In memory. It's only a flicker of sensation, reminders of failed schemes and fire - immolation at the end of the last one, his own fault - and being out of regenerations. Of living, charred and cloaked, the only thing keeping him going his utter hate for everything, every waking moment one of pain. It's only a flicker of sensation, but it's enough.

And he may not be entirely certain why he started smoking, but he knows exactly why he'll quit.


Muse: The Master (Three)
Fandom Doctor Who
Word Count: 337

9 obeyed | bow down before the one you serve

Application for writers_muses. [14 Jan 2008|07:52pm]
MUSE NAME: The Master (Three)
LINK TO MUSE JOURNAL: andyouwillobey
LINK TO MUN'S JOURNAL: risingfire
REFERENCES: I've never written the Master formally, however, cricketycricket and I have been running a PSL for a few months now, with me writing for the Master. You can find examples of my writing style here (my writing journal), as well as here (writing Tia Dalma), and here (writing Alexander Knox).




17.1B - Oh, but my dear, you really should be careful about whom you're seen associating with, or your own reputation will suffer.Collapse )

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