paradisalost | (no subject)

Entry tags:

azula,
fifth doctor

(no subject)

Who: Azula (

sofaultless) and the Fifth Doctor (

broken_clock)
What: Tea.
When: Saturday afternoon.
Where: The TARDIS!
Rating: PG.

Azula was one hundred percent certain that she looked presentable. Perhaps not perfect, but it would have to do, given the circumstances. Her make-up was heavier than usual, to hide the rather obvious signs that she hadn’t slept for more than a single hour in the past thirty. Her long claw-like fingernails were gone; a few had broken, having dug them too hard against the table, so she had trimmed the others to match. These were small details only the truly observant people would see, but they drove Azula up the walls, knowing they were there and she couldn’t do much about them.

If he noticed and commented, Azula decided, she would ignore it best she could. There weren’t many alternate options available. She was here for information, and she vowed to get it, no matter what comments he threw her way about her sanity, her morals, her parents, her brother. No matter what.

She held her head high, knocked on the TARDIS’s door, and folded her hands behind her back. She adopted a neutral look with relative ease, though inside, she was anything but neutral. Being anything but would just weaken her.

She wasn’t crazy, she reminded herself. Just a bit distressed. Not crazy. Not crazy... yet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He'd been waiting at the console room, fiddling with long neglected controls; he'd made all the preparations, of course, and was in the middle of preparing himself when he heard the knock.

He straightened quickly, striding to the door with a light step, keeping a slight smile in place as he opened the door.

"Right on time! Hello." He stepped back, gesturing inside; he could feel the TARDIS' wariness, but ignored it. He would have to make it up to her later.

"I'm always punctual," she reminded him. She didn't like that smile, but she stepped in regardless, keeping her expression neutral. "It would be rude to be late."

The TARDIS was a strange place to be. She couldn't imagine any ship looking remotely like this and still be functional for travel... or war.

He nodded, before he turned - a vulnerable position; a gesture of trust.

"Of course." The smile widens, a silent secret.

"It is nice to see manners here, have I ever said?"

She was almost relieved that he turned away -- it gave her a moment's reprieve to dry swallow and readopt the neutral look. She couldn't give away that she was stressed, even if she was positive he already knew it.

"You probably have, at some point," she replied. "But I agree. So many here have no proper social skills."

She might have mentioned proper upbringings, but she knew where that topic would turn.

He glanced over his shoulder, light smile back in place; there was sincerity in it, though of course he was careful not to show any concern, nor wariness.

It would be so easy for this to go badly.

"You find that in many places across the universe, I'm afraid. Understandable at times, of course, but I think one should always make an effort."

She looked at that smile, examining it, trying to read it. She knew he was thinking, but she couldn't tell what. Was he smiling because he knew? Was he smiling because he was up to something? She reminded herself that certain people had slipped things into her drinks before, under the pretense of trying to help, but she didn't think the Doctor would do that.

But then Zuko accusing her of paranoia floated back to mind. Was she thinking too hard?

Did that show on her face? She struggled to keep herself calm.

"Some people don't even make an effort. They just assume that their world's customs are the same."

"Unfortunately common amongst people who haven't travelled."

He slowed slightly when he reached the console, hand tenderly brushing the edge.

"To think, never leaving home..."

"Well, I can't really recall a time where my Father left--" She caught herself there. She wasn't going to give him ammunition against her father, but really, what subject didn't relate back to him? He was her father.

"It has everything to do with manners and tact. Nothing to do with how much one has travelled."

He paused, turning his head with his smile still in place.

"Of course. Travelling simply helps to broaden the mind, is all."

The smile turns rather sheepish.

"And I must admit, the thought of staying in one place all one's life is very foreign to me, now. Some are very good at it, but I'm certainly not one of them."

That smile really made her suspicious. What was he planning? Was he really naive enough to believe that she was here, ironically after having a difficult confrontation with Zuko, just for casual conversation and tea? She was positive he was up to something.

"I'm not one for travel. Crossing the Earth Kingdom without the Royal procession certainly was an experience. It really just proved everything I'd always been taught about foreign lands; everything they had said in the textbooks. I really have no desire to go back."

She paused.

"Paradisa is complicated."

That was the understatement of the year, Azula decided. Paradisa just made things worse.

"So," she said, opting for a quick change of subject. "That man; the version of you with the other Time Lord. Will he break down later, in your world, or do you just suspect it will happen?"

He shakes his head in bemused wonder; quite the innocent reaction and, once again, mostly sincere.

He could tell her she saw what was in those books because she was looking for it; he could tell her one can't truly appreciate lands they intend to conquer; he could tell her so very many things.

Instead, he moves with her, smile finally fading entirely.

"He will, yes. My persona will realise what has happened, and everything will break down."

It seemed rude to ask if she could be called over to watch, then it happened, but Azula wasn't exactly in the mood to consider those sorts of things. Still, she struggled to keep her questions tactful, and vague. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, even if it was already too obvious.

She swallowed the knot in her throat, and asked, calmly, "Will you try to fix him?"

Was Zuko trying to fix her, or was he just locking her up? Azula didn't want to be fixed. What was there to be fixed, after all? She wasn't wrong, even if she had broken down.

His brow furrowed.

"I'll try to help him. It's not a simple repair; there's no precise way to fit the pieces, no diagram to follow, no clear picture." A wry flash of a smile, old and sad.

"You can't mend people."

((Tense change? What tense change? There was no tense change. > >))

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. Azula wanted to know that someone could break her out of wherever Zuko had stuck her and that she would recover. She wanted to know that the loyalists, the real Fire nation people, the strong and steadfast people of her nation would band together and overthrow Zuko and his phony, undeserved rule, and she could rise again and crush them all down.

That was what she depended on.

She closed her eyes for a second, held in a breath, and demanded, "Can you make him like he was before, at least? Would it take long?"

[[I saw nothing.]]

He gazed at her steadily for a moment; they weren't talking about Omega now, hadn't been for some time, but the answers still held true.

Softly, "Not entirely. People change, Azula, and that's all right." Slowly, he shook his head. "Sometimes for the better. He's very unstable right now; perhaps, when the worst comes, he can become someone who isn't."

"Not entirely, but mostly?" Azula pressed. "Stable is good. And from there, he can work his way back up to being, well... you."

She knew he could be lying, telling her specific things just to get her antsy and paranoid, but somehow, she doubted it. He was an irritating do-gooder who, despite opposing her, seemed to care. She didn't like it, but there were other people she couldn't force to stop caring, too.

Care meant pity.

The knot in her throat just wouldn't go away.

"After all..." She forced a scoff. "You're resilient and determined. He should be, too."

He raised his eyebrows. "One thing we have in common." One of several, really; she was rather good at pretending she was all right. She could use a bit of practice, but then he'd had centuries.

Slowly, though, he shook his head.

"Davros is as well; I'd like to try and fuse the two personalities. He's not fond of the idea, but if it's the only choice he has..."

"I don't want to be like you," she said, bluntly. "You are your feelings and empathy and all that nonsense."

She gritted her teeth for an instant, caught herself, and stopped.

"Take the insanity with the sanity and find some sort of healthy medium? Why not just eliminate the insane one?"

He chuckled, a soft, light sound. "We're not entirely alike, there's no need to fret." The levity faded in an instant, of course, and he was frowning again.

"That won't work; Omega is the base, with my persona...grafted on, so to speak. If anything I would need to be destroyed, but it would be very risky." Another smile, wry and thin.

"Besides, if we destroyed every insane man there would be very few geniuses left in the universe."

"Good."

How could he possibly laugh when she was like this? Azula was so confused she hardly knew what to suspect him of and what to think sincere and honest.

"But if he's supposed to be Omega, wouldn't he be happier as Omega, and not as you?" she said. "So let him be insane. If the Master can function as an insane person, why can't he? Instead of being some... pathetic... broken thing."

She hated that she had to imagine what she had looked like to describe it. She hated that it was only imagination, and not reality, but she didn't want it to be reality, either. There had to be another way.

"In many cases, it's better to be changed than destroyed." His voice never changed - still grim, still soft - but his gaze was sharper, harder.

He needed her to know that.

"He'll gain more than he'll lose, I think." He closed his eyes, just for a moment.

"And the Master...he functions, yes, but he's ruled by his insanity. I knew him before, you know - just as brilliant, perhaps more, because his mind wasn't so scarred. So tempered with rage and obsession."

She couldn't really find an answer to that, right off the bat. She took a moment to breathe, regather, and look away, keeping her eyes trained on some random spot somewhere beyond him. Azula didn't want to be destroyed, but she didn't want change. Change was for Zuko, for the outside world, not for the Fire Nation. What about tradition? What about everything she was born with, and born into? She would rather be destroyed than lose those things.

After a moment, she managed to say, clearly enough, "But not all cases."

Azula wasn't enjoying this game at all. Her fingernails were biting into her palms hard enough that she was nearly drawing blood, and she was almost shaking.

She said, bitterly, suddenly, "How much did Zuko tell you?"

Softly, "Perhaps we should see to the tea first."

It was perhaps not the brightest move he would ever make, but he reached out as he replied, to brush one of her hands; he never was good at physical comfort, and this situation was worse than most, but he felt he ought to try.

She didn't reply, at first. She just locked her eyes on his, staring in some strange mix of horror and relief. He was deliberately avoiding the subject without denying it, which meant he HAD to know. His hand touched hers but she drew hers back, uncomfortably, so that her hands disappeared into her long sleeves.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, but she forcibly relaxed her voice again. "Tea. Yes."

Smoothly, but immediately, he drew his back as well.

"All right." And he nodded, and again led the way.