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

[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.

[ 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?

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.

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.

Edited (left a sentence out sorry!) 2023-09-26 20:48 (UTC)

[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.

[ At any given time, the Doctor's attention is nearly always shared and divided between multiple and various points of interest. He could be standing in one place, actively listening to a point being made, while internally thousands of miles away with his attention on a distant star being eaten by a black hole somewhere, or the night of the festival of the moon of Atrax, when he danced with a friend long gone. All of those thoughts swirl around in a constant whirlwind, yet he stands here with a new friend examining skeletal remains as though nothing at all is happening behind the scenes of his mind.

And when he's spoken to again, he smiles softly, standing straighter and looking at the man beside him. ]

One hopes. I always do, personally. Hope, that is. About anything and everything. Imagine the stories they'll tell about us! We'll make them good ones, won't we?

Tell me your story, or parts of it. Keep a bit of mystery, anything you like! I'll go first: I'm a time-and-space traveler and I don't look my age but you'll have to guess.

[Altaïr admires that — that one could always be able to hope. He'd like to be an optimist, but he's seen too many reasons not to be. So have many who lived in a time of war, he supposes.

Then again, perhaps he's more capable of hope than it feels like. How can he continue to live by his creed and work to change the world unless there's hope it will make a difference?]

If that's the case, I suspect you've seen enough that anything I could share about my story would be dull by comparison.

[He's not sure whether to believe this man can have really done what he claims — but then, what is their Summoning if not traveling across time and space?]

As for your age...you look like you're about thirty, so I'll guess one hundred and twelve.

[This is of course a joke. He can't possibly be that old.]

[ Has he gone astray at times? Of course. Many times. He'd given up on nearly everything after losing Amy and Rory and would have been unrecognizable to anyone who'd known him before. But then he'd found a purpose again, committed to living once more by the promise of his name. ]

Dull — you? Dull is saying, "I've got nothing left to learn, I'm sorted." Certain cardboard boxes are dull, too, the flimsy ones. That's not you, you're not a flimsy cardboard box with terrible glue, and you're not stationary. No, you've lived a life, haven't you, all the steps you took before you were standing in this spot on this day at the same moment as me. Why did you come to the Hall of Relics? You wanted to know, see, understand.

[ If he was just biding his time and passing the hours, they wouldn't have had the conversation they've already shared. ]

And you're a good guesser! Absolutely picking you for my team at the next communal game of charades. [ And have a joke in return. ] Round up, though — oh, by nearly nine hundred years.

[Altaïr isn't an easy person get to know right off the bat — it's partly in his nature, and partly because years of training to be an Assassin has made this an active choice. He and his brothers hide in plain sight, blending in with others and never standing out as particularly noticeable until the moment they choose otherwise.

Yet something about the way the other man speaks to and looks at him makes him feel almost known, as if it's easy for him to see and understand beyond what's been presented. Perhaps that's in his nature, too.]

Ah, of course. I shouldn't have guessed so conservatively.

[Part of him assumes this is a joke — by appearance, they can't be so far apart in age. Then again, he's met Alucard, so he knows something about inhuman lifespans and what they mean for appearances.]

I believe that everyone should want to know, see and understand more, whether they're twenty-six or a thousand and twenty-six. The pursuit of knowledge has no endpoint.

[ It's not uncommon for the Doctor to find people who think as he does about learning, exploring, leading with an open mind and wanting to understand more about everything out there and beyond. The friends he's traveled with, by their nature, have been explorers. Well, usually. Tegan had sort of...wandered into his TARDIS accidentally. But, generally speaking!

Still, it is rare for him to find another who thinks as he does, on a deeper level, more immediately. Enough to carry on a conversation of such depth. It has him intrigued even more about the other man. He's also amused at how well he takes the mention of his age. ]

Everyone should. The pursuit of knowledge should be a lifelong endeavor, though between you and I, we both know there's a vast difference between should and is. Aspirational goals versus reality. The best we can do, or what I've tried to do wherever I go, is impart a bit of wisdom along the way. People like that! Particularly if you say it nicely and pair it with a jelly baby or two. Whether they listen, well — only time can tell us.

[ The Doctor reaches out now, offering his hand. ]

I'm the Doctor, by the way. And you, my not-dull friend?

[This man is wordier than Altaïr tends to be — a lot wordier — but none of it seems anything but worthwhile. He agrees entirely, even if it's said with a spirit of optimism he can't match on his best days.]

Sometimes I think I've been ruined by curiosity. Other times, I think I'm exactly where I need to be to sate that curiosity.

[If such a thing is possible. He returns the handshake, offering a firm grip and a smile.]

I am Altaïr. Just 'the Doctor'?

[Doctor who?]

[ It's so close to being the perfect question. So close. ]

Altaïr! Excellent, very glad to meet you. You know, you're the first Altaïr I've ever known and now all others will be measured by you. And I'd reason that I'm the first just Doctor you've ever known.

[ Cheeky, because of course he's the first and the only. ]

And yes, just. Nothing after Doctor apart from a lifetime of infinite possibilities, though people get clever and creative at times. I do love that!

[ As quickly as the Doctor's wild meandering ramps up, it transitions to something softer again and he leans in a bit, hands folded behind his back, focused on Altaïr. ]

Ruined by curiosity? Well, there's a story, and I'm a big fan of those, as we've established. I prefer when stories are the 'I'll tell you now' variety, but I'll accept, 'I'll tell you later over tea and cake, Doctor.'

[Fair enough. He doesn't doubt that there's a real name somewhere beneath the title, but everyone is entitled to their privacy if they wish. And it's not like he would know a false one given in place of a true name — just 'Doctor' is more honest, in that sense.]

Perhaps, but only if the tea and cake are worth a very good story.

[Is the story of how he came to value the learning he once took for granted that good? Maybe, maybe not, but he's sufficiently accustomed to staying quiet about his past that the cake would have to be absolutely excellent.]

[ Somewhere beneath it all — Doctor who — there is a truth, a secret he holds close. That he isn't pressed to explain further is something he appreciates; not that he would be anything but flippant and coy if pressed, though. ]

Well, I do love a challenge. That's a promise now! [ He actually means this seriously. Tea and cake at some indeterminate time in the future. ] There's something to be said for the company, too, of course.

[ He likes to think, for instance, that his company is stellar. By the same token, he's equally enjoying Altaïr's company. ]

Have you been in this world long?

[More and more they have in common, though he suspects they appreciate very different challenges. Then again, maybe not.]

Over a year now. Looking back, it seems like a long time and a short time — at the same time.

[A paradox, but still true somehow.]

[ The Doctor speaks paradox, so they're golden. ]

Time is relative, of course, and multi-faceted. Wibbly-wobbly. We could have the same five minutes, you and I, and I might feel it was the longest five minutes of my life and you might feel it was the shortest of yours.

And when you travel through it like I do, well, it all gets muddled.

[ And since his thoughts go around in strange loops, random segues are rather his thing. ]

Do you stay at the inn?

[An apt way of putting it. Altaïr can recall minutes that felt like months.]

Sometimes, yes. Other times, elsewhere. I tend to move around.

[And he's never fully comfortable with others knowing where he sleeps.]

It's surprisingly good to have the inn as a gathering place for our community, though. Such as it is.

Good of them to offer it as an option at all. I do always love the helpers, wherever they may be!

[ So much in the way of the universe depends on the doers, the helpers, those who take action where they could simply sit idly by. ]

I have a spot there, but I don't stay often myself.

[ His room could only loosely be called that, really. A few books and odds and ends, otherwise he's too restless to stay in one place himself. And doesn't need much sleep. Though, he suspects being restless isn't the reason for the other man's tendency to move around. ]

[Another wanderer, he notes, wondering if it's for the same reasons. Probably not.]

There's too much to experience and observe in the Free Cities to stay in one place for long.

[He says it as though he approves of and share in a desire to take in all of what this world has to offer, and he does, but also...]

And I think it's better to avoid behaving too predictably.

We're in agreement on there being too much to experience. I've always thought that, about the universe in general. Speaking broadly!

[ The Doctor always appreciates someone who seems to get it as he does. Though it's quite clear quickly that their respective reasons for movement aren't entirely the same. ]

Well, as a general rule I'm never predictable. Variety, that keeps life interesting! Though that's entirely different from avoiding predictable behavior for the sake of — well, do tell?

[He could share his true reasons, but well. That would either make him seem very paranoid or reveal more of himself than he wants to.

~~Or both.~~]

Ah, but it would be very predictable of me to explain myself.

[He raises an eyebrow and grins at the Doctor.]

Oh, you're trouble, I can already tell!

[ Not that he minds in the slightest. He can give back as good as he gets. Now this will fester, this little mystery, and the Doctor loves a good mystery. Certainly, he likes answers just as much and he's not the patient sort either, but this is a mystery that can sit. He'd rather work his way into the answer as he learns more about the other man.

He does grin back at him, though. ]

Lucky I like you already.

I'll take what luck I can get.

[And it goes both ways — he likes this newcomer, from what he's learned about him — but that's not something he'll just come out and say.]

And now I should take my leave. But I'm sure we'll meet again.

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

hall of natural relics

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feel free to drop this if it's too old, marathon ate me lol

happy to keep going!

C:

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