The Doctor (#12) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
axefight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-06-19 06:05 pm
axefight) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-06-19 06:05 pm
(open) old man yells at tree, and other things
who: the Doctor and YOUUUU
what: find the Doc in various locales, up to the usual nonsense. a thing explodes.
when: 19-24
where: the university; a rooftop; the jungle
warnings: nada, most likely
the university, afternoon.
[ for the most part, since starting his job here, the doctor's managed to pass himself off more or less as a normal college professor, teaching a normal class about time travel (and occasionally exobiology and space farming and thermodynamics and--), spending his evenings grading normal papers. normally. it works out - he's a skilled orator and he honestly enjoys this work (specifically, the part where he gets to listen to himself talk passionately for hours on end in front of a captive audience), and is more or less content to devote a chunk of his work week to doing so. besides, he actually needs a little money right now, appalling as that notion is. so he has taken a certain amount of care not to make waves yet. by, say, blowing anything up.
except for this one afternoon, when he accidentally blows something up.
it starts as a whizz, a bang, and a deafening POP! followed by a cloud of white smoke billowing out of his open office door. from inside, you can hear the hssss of a fire extinguisher, as the doctor, his hair comically swept back, puts out a small fire from an inscrutable piece of machinery laying atop his desk. the thing looks like it was cobbled together out of garbage. which it was.
work in progress!
several students' papers may be beyond repair, unfortunately, though. ]
some rooftop somewhere, night.
[ the following night, if you happen to be hanging out on a rooftop, for whatever reason - brooding or something, i don't know - you may find this old fellow with his handmade machine. this time in working order.
although what 'working order' actually means in this case is anyone's guess. the device looks like the unholy amalgamation of a tape deck, an umbrella, a carburetor, three whisks, and a panasonic orbitel television, among other things. little bits of it spin. it softly boops every minute or so. it's playing what appears to be five games of pong layered atop each other at once on its screen. nobody is winning.
the doctor's pacing around in front of it, his thinking face on. every now and then he stops to stare at his creation, tapping his fingers to his arms. whatever information it is displaying doesn't appear to be what he's looking for. it's been going on for a while. ]
the jungle, whenever.
[ because if a place is clearly dangerous, walled off and under watchful guard, of course he's going to head straight out into it. he's not too far from the inhabited city, at least, this time. but he's clearly unarmed and unarmored, and at the moment - yelling at a tree.
or rather, scolding a thing that's in the tree. some sort of cat-like being, from the looks of it, with something shiny and silvery held tightly in its jaws. the doctor clearly wants this thing back, but alas, isn't really a climbing-trees type. just gonna have to resort to his skill with negotiation. ]
Listen to me - don't eat that! You cannot eat that! You can't even use it - you haven't got thumbs! And even if you had, a little brain like yours--
[ the cat thing chomps down harder on it, glaring. ]
--Look, I've got a fish sandwich! Let's trade! Honestly...
etc.
[ if you've got something else in mind, go for it! or pm me to plot things out. ]
what: find the Doc in various locales, up to the usual nonsense. a thing explodes.
when: 19-24
where: the university; a rooftop; the jungle
warnings: nada, most likely
the university, afternoon.
[ for the most part, since starting his job here, the doctor's managed to pass himself off more or less as a normal college professor, teaching a normal class about time travel (and occasionally exobiology and space farming and thermodynamics and--), spending his evenings grading normal papers. normally. it works out - he's a skilled orator and he honestly enjoys this work (specifically, the part where he gets to listen to himself talk passionately for hours on end in front of a captive audience), and is more or less content to devote a chunk of his work week to doing so. besides, he actually needs a little money right now, appalling as that notion is. so he has taken a certain amount of care not to make waves yet. by, say, blowing anything up.
except for this one afternoon, when he accidentally blows something up.
it starts as a whizz, a bang, and a deafening POP! followed by a cloud of white smoke billowing out of his open office door. from inside, you can hear the hssss of a fire extinguisher, as the doctor, his hair comically swept back, puts out a small fire from an inscrutable piece of machinery laying atop his desk. the thing looks like it was cobbled together out of garbage. which it was.
work in progress!
several students' papers may be beyond repair, unfortunately, though. ]
some rooftop somewhere, night.
[ the following night, if you happen to be hanging out on a rooftop, for whatever reason - brooding or something, i don't know - you may find this old fellow with his handmade machine. this time in working order.
although what 'working order' actually means in this case is anyone's guess. the device looks like the unholy amalgamation of a tape deck, an umbrella, a carburetor, three whisks, and a panasonic orbitel television, among other things. little bits of it spin. it softly boops every minute or so. it's playing what appears to be five games of pong layered atop each other at once on its screen. nobody is winning.
the doctor's pacing around in front of it, his thinking face on. every now and then he stops to stare at his creation, tapping his fingers to his arms. whatever information it is displaying doesn't appear to be what he's looking for. it's been going on for a while. ]
the jungle, whenever.
[ because if a place is clearly dangerous, walled off and under watchful guard, of course he's going to head straight out into it. he's not too far from the inhabited city, at least, this time. but he's clearly unarmed and unarmored, and at the moment - yelling at a tree.
or rather, scolding a thing that's in the tree. some sort of cat-like being, from the looks of it, with something shiny and silvery held tightly in its jaws. the doctor clearly wants this thing back, but alas, isn't really a climbing-trees type. just gonna have to resort to his skill with negotiation. ]
Listen to me - don't eat that! You cannot eat that! You can't even use it - you haven't got thumbs! And even if you had, a little brain like yours--
[ the cat thing chomps down harder on it, glaring. ]
--Look, I've got a fish sandwich! Let's trade! Honestly...
etc.
[ if you've got something else in mind, go for it! or pm me to plot things out. ]
no subject
[ the more innocuous clark tries to make it sound, the harder he's gotta press, of course. ]
no subject
A small smile. ]
You were in a hurry, and I wasn't trying to hurt it.
no subject
[ he points at clark's face. ] Do you generally hurt things with your eyes?
no subject
It works to scare off some of the monsters that get too close to the perimeter.
[ The kite in his jacket shifts, its little claws digging into his shirt. Clark looks down. ]
Are you hungry already?
no subject
[ and then his attention's drawn back down to the kite, again. ]
And who's the little one?
no subject
[ He rests his hand against it, and the kite obligingly climbs out. The Doctor had addressed it before him. Anyone who looks at this small, bat-like creature with that curiosity can't mean it any harm. ]
This is a war kite from my planet. [ That's safe to say since he knows the Doctor has two heartbeats. ] Would you like to hold it?
no subject
Which planet is yours, then?
no subject
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Ah. So you're the boy's father. Or, alternate-father - whatever.
no subject
And you are?
no subject
I don't believe my universe has a Krypton, always a fan of meeting new species. [ gestures between clark and his pet. ]
no subject
Same here. Where are you from?
no subject
An old planet called Gallifrey.
no subject
Does everyone on Gallifrey have two hearts?
no subject
Generally a good idea to have both.
Can everyone on Krypton hear so well? ...Or, are you using another sense?
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[ That's usually creepy so he doesn't talk about it, but he thinks the Doctor won't mind. ]
It's the same for all Kryptonians.
[ Yellow sun. ]
no subject
Ohhh. Oh, wait. No, wait a second. Super-hearing, X-ray vision, concentrated heat emission...
You're not going to tell me you can fly as well, are you?
[ he's half-joking - but he may have, in fact, encountered someone like this before. ]
no subject
[ Smiling. ]
You've met someone with the same abilities?
no subject
Chap I met in New York. Human - but developed several, er, abilities... [ 100% the doctor's fault but whatever. ] For some reason, he chose to fly 'round the city wearing a frankly ridiculous costume, stopping crime. Super-vigilantism.
[ how strange, right. can you imagine. ]
no subject
What happened to him? Was he an alien?
no subject
Dunno, he's probably still at it. Reckon once you've committed to the cape and mask... aesthetic, you never really stop.
no subject
How did you find him? Do you live on Earth?
no subject
I'm a bit of a universal wanderer. But I've spent a great deal of time on Earth. I had some business in New York, that time.
no subject
[ Clark usually has a serious air about him, but he has the wonder of a twelve year old watching their first Star Trek episode.
Although he's grown out of wanting to have someone like him, it's just nice to talk to another alien familiar with Earth. He hasn't had that since Kara left. ]
no subject
I do. Takes me anywhere in the universe, and I've been everywhere.
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