( catch-all) the definite article, you might say

[thedreamer]

Who: The Doctor & You Don't Know It Yet But You're Already Friends
When: September
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: General catch-all!~
Warnings: None currently but will change accordingly if needed!

Comments

★ CADENS | OTA | SEPTEMBER

[thedreamer]

[ The Doctor's had a storied and complicated history with various military institutions over the course of his long life. Notably, his protracted time spent with UNIT while exiled on Earth in his youth offered him a different perspective and broadened his mind, even if he'll always have concerns about the military and their weapons in particular. Broadening the mind, though — isn't that the point, really, of living at all?

Even now, even here, while he feels a surge of displeasure at the military drills, he alternately feels a pang at the recollection of memories long past now, of one of his oldest and dearest friends, the Brigadier; what would he think now, what would he have to say about all of this? No, no, best forget; forget, like he always does. Never would he ever dwell in memory...

But they're doing their drills, these soldiers, and he worries as much as he's wary of the potential fate to come, the fate that tilts on precarious ground. War and magic, and dark things he can only wonder at thus far, until he knows more about this place. Whatever it takes, though, he'll see to it that the people here are safe, all of them. As he always does, he keeps ever busy, sticking his nose where it does and doesn't belong, asking questions he shouldn't ask, bothering endearing himself to anyone who will listen, but especially those who won't. ]

The Hall of Natural Relics
[ If you catch him inside, he'll be observing everything he can with rapt attention and genuine enthusiasm, his hands clasped behind his back as he leans in to see, understand, learn. The relics here will tell him more about the world around them, and his mind is working ten times faster than that of any human mind, processing everything he takes in, memorizing the details, storing it away, cross-referencing with everything he's ever encountered in his long years. One particular set of skeletal remains intrigues him and he leans in for a closer look, a wide smile on his face. ]

A beauty, isn't it? With a story to tell, like all of us.

Wandering
[ The Doctor's picked up a few odd jobs here and there — not for genuine want of money, but out of necessity, as these things go — and he's enjoyed being kept busy, along with the chance to learn more about the Free Cities in his adventures. And that's what this is, essentially — another adventure, albeit one unlike anything he's encountered before.

He hasn't bothered looking for a place of residence; rarely sleeping, he has little need, though he's made do when he's needed to. At some point, perhaps, he'll settle in somewhere, but for now, he's more content being untethered. The TARDIS is his home, after all, and without his old girl he's far too restless to "settle" for the moment.

One particular day, as night draws near and the stars spread across the sky, the Doctor casts his gaze skyward, a whimsical smile on his face. He'll speak easily to anyone passing by. ]

Beautiful, aren't they? No matter how many times I look up. They'll all look different on other planets, of course, accounting for axial tilt and atmospheric variations, scattering light in all different directions. Some of those stars up there might already have died, but we wouldn't know it standing here. The light a star gives out on its last breath can take thousands, millions, billions of years to reach us here at this moment. The finite speed of light. The wonder of the universe.

wandering;

[righteously]

( The Doctor's home is the TARDIS, Dean's is the Impala — both of them unfortunately separated from their traveling house on wheels. There's always the Horizon, of course, and he spends a fair amount of time there working on the dreamscape re-imagining of his baby, but... when it comes down to brass tax, out here in the real world, she's gone. He doesn't have her, he's stuck in one place, and the most traveling he does is throwing himself onto a horse and riding out into the desert to hunt something dangerous.

Dean, unlike the Doctor, has gotten rather used to being anchored. Resigned, maybe. Most of the Summoned in the Free Cities move from the Barracks to Mag's Inn and Tavern in Cadens proper, because a distaste for the military runs common among them. Dean made that move himself, and then took it even a step further. He's a land owner now, there's a house with a deed in his name that he pays actual taxes for, believe it or not.

That being said, it's hard to completely kill the drive to wander, or the desire to be out under the open stars. They've got that in common.

He's got a beer in one hand, a sheathed sword in the other — he means to settle in some distance from the stranger and work on sharpening it for an hour or two when the conversation starts up.

He glances up. Remains quiet for a contemplative minute as the guy talks, as he posts himself up against a nice comfortable rock and takes a swig from his beer. At length, he tilts his head in concession. )

I used to know all the constellations back home. My old man, he uh... he made us learn how to navigate with 'em. Here... ( He shakes his head slowly. ) I don't even know if they have constellations here, so I've just been kinda... makin' 'em up myself. Check it out-

( He points up to a bright cluster in the southern portion of the sky. )

You see those... three in a line, stacked next to those other three, kinda over that... perpendicular cluster there?

[thedreamer]

[ Staying in one place, staying anchored anywhere at all — a dreadful fate to ruminate over for the ancient traveler perpetually running to and fro, skipping across the stars because there's always so much to see, so much to do, worlds out there where the sky burns and danger looms at every corner. The thrill of clinging desperately to that life never leaves him, and he'll always impress upon anyone he can (and he will, he'll never stop talking to anyone who will listen or won't listen, as the case may be) that it's an extraordinary life. Deep down, of course, there's far more to it; he can't very well stop running, can he? No, he knows what happens when he stops, when he's alone.

So here he is, trapped and anchored, but not alone (thankfully for everyone around him), and with a vast mystery to contend with. It's a reasonable exchange for the moment, where he can be of use and do what he's always done: help. No getting into trouble or danger, nothing of the sort. No, strictly helping in his usual way where everything absolutely goes according to plan and nothing at all goes awry..

The Doctor will, of course, ever and always make conversation with anyone who passes by, whether they acknowledge his presence or not. But his presence has not only been acknowledged, his inclination to discuss the stars is heeded. So, now Dean gets to contend with a Doctor instantly more exuberant...as if that were possible. Following the other man's directive and line of sight, it's with a broad smile that the Doctor's gaze lifts precisely to the southern sky. ]

Beauties they are, yes, a triumphant little trio making their mark on the sky! Go on, then, what are you calling them?

[righteously]

( Tack on another shared trait to their small but growing list of similarities: Dean sucks at being alone. He can't do it, he's never been able to do it. Being alone with himself only makes him darker, makes him worse, makes him dangerous to himself and, occasionally, to other people.

Fortunately for him and everyone around him, he has a constant companion in the form of an ancient alien being — named Castiel, who is not presently around, so this other ancient alien being will do. )

That one... ( He declares proudly; ) Is called Endless Soup, Salad, and Breadsticks, aka the Olive Garden cluster.

( He may have been a little hungry when he named it. )

You can't really see the soup or the salad, but the breadsticks, those are totally right there.

[thedreamer]

[ Best neither of them stray far from people anytime soon or at the very least, each other, or there might be literal darkness unimaginable brought forth. Oncoming Storm, what. Oh, yes, not to worry, though. See? Happy, affable, perfectly cheerful ancient alien being not at all masking any darker things beneath.

The wonder in the Doctor's eyes at the sight of the stars, though, is immediately replaced by a somewhat blank, open-mouthed stare that lingers much like the expression in his icon. ]

Soup, Salad, and Breadsticks? Olive Garden cluster? Here I was about to ask what stories you've made up about them and you're on about food —

[ Witness here a slightly scrunched, judgey face. But then...breadsticks. Has he had those with this face? Does he like them? Would they be good dipped in custard?

— Now look what he's done. ]

Not exactly the tale of Andromeda, Perseus, & Cassiopeia, but...alright, okay. I'll allow it. Possibly. On one condition — what sort of soup, exactly? Important question! The most important of all.

[righteously]

( It's okay, doc, you can judge him. He is extremely used to it. In fact, he tends to surround himself with people who are especially good at judging him, making judgmental faces at him, and loudly declaring how much they're judging him. It's part of the fun.

And here he goes propping up his sword while they talk, balanced over his knees, his right hand deftly plucking out a little stone that he angles ever so carefully at the edge of the blade and drags down — a technique that is totally real and legitimate, probably. )

Obviously it's the potato one, what am I, a heathen? Anyone who says Minestrone's better is a damn liar.

( He points his whetstone at the Doctor for emphasis.

So speaketh the Righteous Man to the Oncoming Storm. )

wandering

[restingstitchface]

[Crane returns home at night but cannot sleep. Work keeps him awake during the day and alive at night. He strolls down the street, fingers itching to grab any animal or person, to hone his abilities and begin working. But one cannot kidnap people off the street.

This is not Gotham, after all.

So why not befriend them instead? He takes that monologue as his queue. Stars? Well, there are uglier things.]

Ah, not quite what I call the wonder of the universe. But we all have our preferences.

[thedreamer]

[ All these long years, the Doctor's encountered his fair share of those who prefer to meet his unbridled optimism with their particular brand of cynicism, or...something else entirely. He finds wonder and joy in the simplest things and he's not easily deterred from such feelings. ]

Since we're sharing then, do tell! I'm all ears — well, not all. In fact, they're a perfectly proportional size this go-around.

[ He touches his ears for good measure, briefly. ]

[restingstitchface]

Well, it's wonderfully simple.

[People like his friend find joy in natural beauty. He finds natural beauty in the working of the mind. That is why his answer is quiet and reverent. Eyes look towards the stars but find something else in them.]

I find the universe less spectacular than the people within it.

[thedreamer]

Well, we're in agreement there, but I don't think one precludes the other. I'm a big fan of people, though I don't limit it to only people, no not at all. Sentient life, wherever it exists, is extraordinary. And non-sentient life, of course, I don't discriminate. Big fan of walls and tapestries and coral polyps, for instance!

[restingstitchface]

[Crane says nothing. The stranger babbles and blathers: he listens but hides his impatience behind the perfect expression of understanding and tolerance.]

Ever the optimist, aren't you?

[He responds with a friendly tone, a small smile gracing his lips.]

Good. The world needs more people like you.

wandering!

[godshattering]

[ Restlessness is something Claude's used to, and being in Abraxas never has helped him with that. Not even after all his time here, either, and not when Cadens still has so much to offer in the way of exploring with how the city shifts as all large cities do.

On this particular night, sleep was something to be postponed for later when the urge to go for a walk, see about a night market, anything was one he ranked higher than settling in with a book for the night. Said book comes with him instead tucked away in his bag as a backup plan to find a bench and read somewhere if possible, and there's a fair bit of wandering which happens before he finds the market he had in mind and browses for some snacks for this adventure.

A bench is precisely where Claude ends up after all with a paper cone of some fried dough snacks rolled through savory spices set on top of his bag next to him. That book's in his hand though rather than what he'd hoped, he's doing more of a staring-at-the-same-page for a while than actually reading it or absorbing anything. It makes it all the easier to look up when someone speaks and even more so when he realizes it's on one of his favorite topics - the stars - though it's also more than that.

Wait a minute - ]

Were you an astronomer back home? [ Well. That's not exactly what Claude meant to ask while shutting his book as that attempt to read is now truly forgotten, but: it's a start as he looks at the other. ] Or a scholar of the stars since that sounded awfully like a possibility, or maybe I'm just flattering myself by calling my own research of the stars here that. What's your favorite one from home?

[ Star, constellation, anything in between - all acceptable answers to him. ]

[thedreamer]

[ The Doctor is instantly delighted, of course. A response of any kind (good or bad, he's not choosy) would uplift him, but that the one speaking to him now actually queries him about his favorite stars, well, it tells the Doctor he's met someone of a like mind, at least as it pertains to looking up and studying more about what's out there. This, naturally, means that he'll be latched on to the other.

His wide and bright grin no doubt tells a story before the Doctor even speaks again. Rubbing his hands together just a little, he takes the opportunity to sit on the bench as well, though does keep at least a semi-respectable distance between them. ]

Astronomer of a sort, yes, though I'd hardly limit myself to only that. My home is the stars, you might say, so — choosing a favorite, oh, I couldn't. Impossible. There's so many, how to begin!

[ And he is...already up and off the bench again. That lasted two seconds; two seconds of stillness before he has to move again, still smiling as he looks up. ]

There's a star in the Scutum-Centaurus spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, oh about... [ He spreads his hands out as far as they'll go, puffing a breath out of the corner of his mouth. ] 22.8ish light-years from the Sun. If you're familiar with Earth, that is. It spins once every 0.9 seconds, normal, regular, but what's far more unique about it is it turns off for a time. Just...disappears entirely, blinks out for hundreds of days at a time. It comes back, of course, on and off like that. A story all its own, that one.

There's another star — loved this one — eaten by a black hole hundreds of years ago. I watched it go...

[ Whoops. He could keep going. ]

We'll bookmark the rest of that conversation, won't forget. Back to you, though! You've been researching the ones here, you said.

so sorry for the delay, last week was all over the place for me!

[godshattering]

[ That the question makes his new companion all but light up isn't lost on Claude while he observes carefully behind that genial mask he so often wears, but the more he listens, the less it stays a mask and becomes something more of actual interest. A home that is the stars - he muses on that for a minute before watching as there's gestures to the sky, and then Claude turns his own attention to what's above them.

There's the sense, like when he learned why it is Rhea had always seemed older than her tenure as archbishop implied, or why Teach possessed an occasionally unnerving version of the same feeling applied in different ways. It clicks into place with hundreds of years and watching it go, and then his gaze swivels back. ]

Sorry, you're saying you watched a star disappear centuries ago? And that you lived among them?

[ There's no skepticism or disbelief there, just genuine curiosity. He thinks of Garrus and Shepard and what they'd described of being in space, and discussions of stars he's had with others from Earth. What little context Claude has for that helps as he fits some puzzle pieces together. It's a good thing there's that promise of not forgetting to continue it because he's certainly going to come back to it, but that can wait as he nods in regards to Abraxas' night skies. ]

I have here and there, since I was hoping to find any constellations from home that might also be here. No luck on that yet in all my studies, but what I've come across in libraries sounds a bit like what you've described. My familiarity is based more in the legends, but also. [ He's fishing around in his pockets to retrieve the compact mirror he usually keeps with him, casually flipping it open with the night sky above them now much closer thanks to the projection of it in accurate detail from the mirror overhead for both of them. ] Navigation, since it's a viable way to get around the desert if you plan to visit it, though you might also know of navigating within the stars from the sound of it.

no worries at all!

[thedreamer]

Oh, yes, I've watched many stars disappear and reappear and be born and die. The universe is always growing and expanding, twisting and turning. It's bigger and more beautiful and terrible than you might ever imagine and I've only just scratched the surface.

[ As the Doctor speaks, he's often moving and fidgeting with his hands, unable to ever really be completely still at any given moment. ]

Bit delayed from the exploring though now, as you might imagine.

[ Being trapped here as they are. Yet, in spite of the Doctor's loathing for their present circumstances — the lack of free will in being here — there's a purpose in their presence here and he'll do his best to help.

His attention, though, is now diverted when the other man pulls out the mirror, and the Doctor now returns to sit on the bench closer to him, attempting to observe the mirror more clearly. ]

Oh, that's a clever thing! I traveled the stars in my ship, the TARDIS. She took me anywhere I wanted to go. Well, very rarely where I actually wanted to go, but where I needed to go more often than not.

[ But the projection is capturing his attention more than anything else right now and he focuses back on it, studying the details. ]

You must have a favorite constellation here, then. Or home. Both! Do tell. And tell me more about this navigation device of yours.

[godshattering]

[ If he'd thought before those answers were fascinating, this all but doubles down on them being so. The universe was mostly a concept out of his reach before arriving, what with the astronomers he knew of having their own limits that could've been surpassed with some of the technology available here. But the stars - they've always been something he's appreciated and something steadying, so to hear of how they're forever changing just out of their sight? Adds a little extra appreciation of them.

Claude cracks a smile that's something closer to genuine at the mention of a delay. Yes, that much he understands - as does the restlessness displayed since it's so often the cause of being awake late at night, like right now. ]

I suppose you've already been to the academies studying the stars here? If not, you should go there immediately when they're open. As for this, [ with a tilt of the mirror in his hand, ] I'm actually not sure how much I can tell you about it, and not just because I'd like to be delightfully secretive to be difficult. This is really is just a mirror as it looks like, but the part where the stars come in here is something I didn't have until arriving. An ability of some kind, it almost seems.

[ Even as he shifts his gaze to the makeshift device in his hand, Claude tilts it obligingly to have the projection update to a different section of the night sky based on the movement. ]

I've always attributed it to something from the Singularity since it seems to be in charge of so much here, but honestly - who knows where it came from? It's fitting though since I spent a lot of time studying the stars when I was a child and they've never lost their magic for me. Most of the constellations at home come with stories attached to them that've been passed down through generations. My favorite one is The Archer, where it's said each night he fires an arrow across the horizon. Where it lands is somewhere yet to be discovered, but fortune waits for those who find it.

[ And with a grin Claude adds, ] I've not yet found a constellation which means the same here, but my guess is there's something like it if the similarities our worlds all share despite the differences are anything to go by.

hall of natural relics

[aquilus]

[Despite lacking a full-time occupation in this land, Altaïr has plenty to keep his days busy, between attending lectures, preparing his caches, wandering while looking for anything odd or otherwise of note, and of course performing those cobbled-together odd jobs that make his living, such as it is. But he keeps coming back to places of learning, like this hall, the great library of Cadens and elsewhere — how can he resist, when there's so much left to learn?]

Even in death, its tale isn't fully told. There's something precious in that, I think.

[And morbid, possibly. At least in the eyes of many others, he knows. Not this man, apparently.]

I'd like to have seen it in life. I suppose it's a kind of puzzle — there are pieces of knowledge here, but we have to put in effort to assemble a whole.

[thedreamer]

[ A fellow scholar of sorts, or perhaps a philosopher, the way he speaks of its tale not being told, and wishing to have seen it in life. Or...simply, just someone who pays a bit more attention than most. Others might simply observe it and pass by without considering it at any great length or depth. Naturally, this consideration from the other man already draws the Doctor closer. ]

I would have been able to show you, if I had my ship. Gone back in time and we'd have seen it in its glory. Though, that's a different sort of tale.

[ His smile softens, and it's clear the Doctor is pondering more deeply now. He also looks around them for a moment before focusing back on the man close to him. ]

There are endings all around here, all with stories to tell. One part of who and what they were is gone, but if we remember them, they're not really gone completely, and the puzzle we work out for ourselves, well, we give their memory a new and different sort of life, don't we?

[ He doesn't like endings, of course, never has, but he does love stories and the chance to give those who have long gone a sort of second life by remembering they were here at all. ]

You first — what do you think? What was our friend here like?

[aquilus]

A ship that can cross time as well as water must be a very fine ship indeed.

[He'd like to see it, if such a thing truly exists. No surprise that it can't be allowed to exist in Abraxas — a ship like that would represent freedom of movement like no other he can imagine, and for all that the Summoned are given in food, clothing and the necessary sundries for life, the ones who brought them here will never give them that.

He considers the other man's words, considers the set of remains before them. Altaïr knows something of anatomy, but not much beyond that of men. He is no scientist. But that kind of accuracy isn't what's being asked for, is it?]

I'd like to think that they were bolder than we might see without life animating their form — that they were capable of more than we can discern from the physical form.

From the look of what's left, they could have been a climber. But maybe not only out of practicality or survival. Maybe they simply enjoyed being up high, seeing the world spread out below them. Maybe it helped them feel centered in some way.

[thedreamer]

Oh, she can cross time, space, water, and the M25 at rush hour in ten seconds flat. No limits!

[ A brief pause. ]

Well, a few minor limits — fixed points, significant moments in history, the usual.

[ His entire demeanor shifts as he speaks of his ship; the tone and cadence of his voice, both rising in pitch with excitement and softening with a tenderness that some might consider a bit overdone when speaking of a seemingly non-sentient entity. He does enjoy hearing someone praise her.

To the matter at hand, though — the Doctor's attention pivots back to the remains before them. His own abilities generally allow him to discern and perceive far more than most would be able to. He could study these bones and understand nearly everything about who this person was, in very little time. But that's not the purpose of this little exercise, no, this is about the story they left behind, and stories can be anything at all. He's also far more curious about the story the other man will conjure, and he's not disappointed.

Kneeling down just a bit, the Doctor studies the remains, folding his hands together before looking back at the other man. ]

Now we're talking — yes, perfect! You're onto something. To see the world above and below from an entirely new perspective, suspended between earth and sky, as it were. Completely unique. Just them, for a moment, and nothing else at all. All that was, all that is, all that could be. Clears away thoughts a bit, like a recharge, fueling up your mind again and lighting a spark. Yes, I think they enjoyed it, climbing as much as they could. Might have journaled a bit while up there. That's a thing people do, I hear! Some people. Different people.

[ The Doctor himself, in fact! ]

Our friend here — drawing what they saw up there, writing stories about it, their adventures, gathering their thoughts. Stories about stories, and on and on it goes.

[aquilus]

[Most of what he says about his ship goes over Altaïr's head. He makes a note of it anyway, in case it should come up again in the future — even if he's clearly missing a lot of context, it sounds like an extraordinary vessel.

As the other man studies the specimen's remains, Altaïe takes a moment to study him. His focus, the sheer enthusiasm that practically oozes out of him...it's unique, altogether. He hasn't met anyone much like this since coming here.

It's easy to listen to the monologue and imagine it clearly in his mind, and not just because he's experienced similar things himself. The words paint a vivid picture.]

And here we are, passing those stories on, in a sense. At least one part of them. And one day, when we're gone — perhaps others will tell stories about the Summoned who once visited this hall.

hall of natural relics

[techmaturgy]

[Viktor is not a biologist--or an anthropologist, or a paleontologist, or a natural historian--but something he does appreciate is the quiet of a museum, even if this particular exhibit is not his specialty. He's been thinking, again, of the strange skeletal arm that Geralt once showed him, and though he knows he won't find anything similar in a carefully-curated (and probably censored) academy exhibit, he finds himself needing to get out of the workshop and clear his head. This is just his way of making it productive.

Or attempting to, anyway.

He gets distracted fairly quickly by an arrival (a Summoned, he thinks), who seems to be very enthusiastic about the exhibit. Viktor is tucked into a corner, hunched over a notebook, but the talking out loud is hard to ignore.]

Have you seen anything like it before?

[He doesn't move to stand from his stool--but he will look up from his notebook, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.]

[thedreamer]

Oh, yes, often! Here, there, not-there, over-there, everywhere, anywhere in between. Loads of worlds and species out there have this same sort of collection, a repository of what's long past.

Of course, it's only ever part of the story, and not often the whole story or even the true story, but it's a jumping-off point and a conversation starter at the very least. Take us, for example, now we have something to talk about, all because of these bones.

[ He smiles eagerly. ]

To be fair, though, I would have found a reason to talk to you, with or without the remains of our dear departed friend here.

[ Hands folded behind his back now, the Doctor steps a little closer to the man who's spoken to him, giving a nod towards the notebook in his hand. ]

Gathering your observations?

[techmaturgy]

[Yes, Viktor will agree that Piltover too has museums and exhibitions, though of course what piques his interest is this man talking like he has a working knowledge of other worlds. Intriguing, to say the least, but he makes an attempt not to grasp at it right away. They've only said a few words to each other, after all.

Well. The Doctor is maybe saying a lot of words. Viktor glances around, as if gauging whether or not there's anyone else here who might be interesting to talk to, instead of a strange lanky nerd crumpled up on a stool.]

What reason is that, exactly?

[He uncrumples, slowly, though his grip on the notebook is possessive.]

I like to come here to think.

[thedreamer]

Your notebook! Beautiful thing, that. You've been here a while — longer than me, in any case — long enough you have a notebook and you're sat there observing and reading it, perhaps adding to it later.

[ It's not lost on the Doctor that the other man seems protective of said notebook. If anyone could possibly understand attachments (for reasons many and varied) to inanimate objects, it's this one. ]

I like thinkers and readers and notebook-keepers. Big fan myself! What were you thinking about?

[ Yes, he'll just launch right into it without any preamble. They've had a decent enough introduction, in the Doctor's estimation. Enough that he can absolutely ask such a question. ]