Lonely Carnival [Tag: The Master]

[quinnmcghann]

It had looked so pretty from far away.

Quinn climbed over the chained gate marked HAZARD, paying it no heed as she looked at the decrepit remains of a place that once held such light and joy. The laughing children, the glaring lights, the whirling machinations -that was what she had felt, at least the echo of it, from the patchy hill of grass that she first spied it from.

It was not so now.The axis of the swing carousel drooped like a dying mushroom, many of its swings fallen, with the remaining chains dangling mournfully in the wind. The little roller coaster was eaten away by rust, a delicate orange trellis that soon would collapse into... well, nothingness. That was, in a way, beautiful, Quinn supposed. She climbed up onto the platform of the swing carousel, absently looking for a swing that was still intact. She found one, covered in grime. As she grabbed the chain, the seat of the swing, disturbed, fell to the ground like an over-ripened fruit. This sudden surprise broke a giggle from her lips, a little bubble of childish sound in a place that at one time was so full of joy and chatter. The sound felt small compared to the great emptiness of the park, but gradually permeated the silence there.

Such a lonely place thought Quinn.

How wonderful.

The little Amusement Park was not as she had hoped to find it, but in some ways this was better. She was still skittish of large groups of people, of too many eyes watching her. Here it didn't matter if she forgot an ear or blurred her fingers by mistake. She glanced up at the shaky remains of rides and buildings.That was the beauty of solitude: not to be watched or judged. The Park too knew this, she felt. It knew it could rust in peace so long as it was out of the eyes of the people. If people saw it they would despise it, and tear it to pieces so that they might put something newly made in its place. As long as it was left alone it come gently succumb to the tides of time. In this they were kindred spirits.

Quinn gently fingered the rusty chain in her hand, the orange rust flaking off at her touch and staining her hands with the bright color. Her body could flake off as easily as this, but she wondered if the carousel, like her, after all the flaking would be left with true self. Or was it just an empty shell?

[simm]

Perhaps it was the silence that had attracted him.

There was no sounds here, save the whispered creaks of the rusting amusement rides, or the gentle brush of the wind as it swept through, unheeding of those who lurked within the Park's heart. But sometimes, the silence was more deafening than sound.

He sat, leaning heavily into the flaking concrete wall, hunched over as thick dark shadows crept over his form with their spider-like tendrils. Light couldn't find him here, hidden in the empty shell of the rollercoaster's hub. One pale hand tapped against the other a far too familiar rhythm, the sheer white of his skin contrasting vividly against the dark clothing. In the silence, the deafening silence, the sounds of drums ruled his mind.

One, Two, Three, Four. One, Two, Three, Four.

The hands lifted, burying themselves in his near-white hair. But the drums never ceased in their tirade of noise. They tortured his mind with their urging to war, crashing so fiercely against his skull. And now his body cried out for sustinance, draining his own lifeforce with every moment he lived. That, that he knew how to fix. Those stupid enough to venture over the gate had met with unfortunate fates. Wild, dark eyes flicked to the stacked miky white bones, like a macabre jenga set. It was always more fun when the food came to him, especially when it came willingly and unaware. Three of them, slightly drunk, guffawing and lumbering around. They had no idea of what lurked amonst the shadows. How they had run. A grin came to his lips. And how they would never run again!

But his body never ceased to crave more, more flesh, more food. He would devour this city, this country, all of it. It was his to feast upon and no one could stop him. No one. None but...one. His hands flexed against his forehead. There had always been that one. The one who thwarted his plans, his brilliant ideas, every time. But he wouldn't give in, oh never. And the Doctor would never cave either. It was an endless dance.

Lost in the drums and his fevered thoughts that sloped into wild insanity, a single noise pierced the shroud he hid in. A laugh. The Master's head snapped upwards instantly, eyes darting wildly. There was nothing here that could laugh. He was not so caught in his own insanity that he lost sight of the most obvious things. This place was dead; a ghost-town.

And yet, a laugh.

He left his cover, and flitted into the light, moving lightly and swiftly. There was something here, he could feel it. But he couldn't scent it, there was no taste in the air of that human stink, or of any other species that perhaps had stranded itself on this forsaken rock.

He paused, hiding his form behind one of many old Shoot-'Em-Up games. The fake rifles had already been pilfered from the stand, leaving the targets to stand uselessly alone. The master narrowed his gaze at the young woman who stood by the carousel, looking so innocent and carefree. She resembled the human-kind, so simliar and yet, there was something wrong. Some so fundamentally wrong. He sniffed the air, and scowled. There was no scent. Nothing. She was...an anomalie to him. An oddity.

"You're different."

[/b] He leant against the stand side, the old structure creaking wearily. Wild, piercing eyes stared out from beneath the black hood, watching her with a dark curiosity. [/blockquote]

[quinnmcghann]

Quinn looked up from her hand as she heard a voice. It was the man from the alley -he had turned up, once again, without a sound to announce his presence.

"You're different." the words fell from his mouth like hot coals, heavy but glowing with some meaning that was lost on her.

As far as she could see he was the one who looked different. She didn't exactly remember what he was wearing this morning, but vaguely understood it to be cleaner and more put together than the dirty hoodie and denim he now wore.
The difference, however, went beyond mere clothing. There was something in his posture, in the way he was addressing her. It was almost as if he was a completely different person...

Well, she didn't know how to answer his statement, so she posed a question for him instead.

"Is this your home then? I quite like it." She told him, choosing another swing on the swing carousel. Her tones were familiar, trying to be more casual in the light of their last conversation.

[simm]

A pale eyebrow arched curiously as she answrred his question with yet another question. And how she spoke to him, with light tones, familiarity echoing in every word. He found it rather intriguing. She didn't know him, she couldn't have. Even if the girl recognised the mask of Harold Saxon behind the disheveled, paled features, she didn't know him. And he didn't know her, strange as she was. Perhaps that was the very reason why he had held back, starving as he was. There was something different about her.

"I live here, but it's not my home"

[/b], he said quietly, keeping his voice level and his suspiscions quieted. "My home was so very far away."[/b] The Master pushed away from his leaning post, sauntering towards her, a smirk gracing his lips. Dark eyes flickered over her shape, before settling to meet her gaze. He had to know. The thirst for knowledge was something that linger in every incarnation he had ever lived through, sometimes risking too much just to gain more. What was it about her, the dark haired girl who acted like a friend.

What made her...special?

"And what to make of you? Nobody comes here, it's been a deadzone for years. Can't you hear it? The silence. I'm sure it's deafening."[/b] His words forced his mouth in a ugly scowl. What he would give, for a moment's silence. Far too many years he'd lived with this dull thudding in his mind, growing louder and louder with every passing second. [/blockquote]

[quinnmcghann]

Quinn chose an unbroken swing, stepping through it and then back down on the other side so she could sit facing him. Why was he so different now? They had only talked that morning. She was determined to find out.

"I live here, but it's not my home. My home was so very far away."

That was certainly a sentiment the young Sarcenet could identify with. She had flown halfway across this island in search of her own kind, but had only found that blue box, and another person to chase her. Would she have stayed this morning, she wondered, if she had know what she had been in such a hurry for wasn't actually there? Maybe then they could have talked, and she would know why he was as he was now.

"And what to make of you? Nobody comes here, it's been a deadzone for years. Can't you hear it? The silence. I'm sure it's deafening."

"No." said Quinn, a little embarrassed with herself. How did she explain to this man what she had felt from the hill, the whirling mad joy and bright lights and rush of people?
"I thought... that it was still alive. From where I saw it on the hill. But it's hardly silent now, even without people." Quinn let her voice die momentarily, listening the creaking metals in the wind. The park continued to breathe.

"...Do you not remember me, from this morning?" she asked quietly into the silence, pushing back with her feet to get the swing started. It went forward, just barely, as she had no weight to make it work as a pendulum. He seemed uncertain of her now, confused. Maybe he had had a concussion? That might explain why he was so different in only a day.

"We met in the alley, and I was in such a hurry... " she elaborated gently as her swing went back in forth in the slight breeze, hoping to awaken his memory of her.
"You spoke to me, told me to... run." she hesitated as she remembered this part. Hadn't that been exactly what she had been doing since she had gotten to Cardiff; running? She had always been flighty in cities, but recently she had been jumping at the slightest 'hello'. But she didn't want to run now. That overpowering urge to escape had left her, as if she was supposed to be here in this park.

""Not from you, of course. I'm not sure if I quite recall what though..."

[simm]

No? The Master's head cocked to the side curiously.
"Really." No was definitely not the answer he had been expecting. He took advantage of pause she gave, tuning his ears into the voices of the carnival. Rusty swing creaked in the wind, the rotting wood of the cheap structures groaning, the sound of wing whistling through holes in the corrugated metal roofing over the stalls. Noise. All of it noise, louder and louder, joining the drums in a symphony of noise.

His head twitched violently, jerking his gaze to the dusty ground. He could not see the same beauty the girl saw, only the urge to make it all be quiet for good.


"You?" He almost scoffed, turning dark eyes to meet her gaze. He would've remembered a thing like her, a strange anomaly. Something that just didn;t make sense. He sniffed the air briefly, narrowing his gaze. Nothing.

The protesting squeak of the swing's rusted joints pierced his brain, cutting over the girl's soft voice. He closed his eyes, brow furrowing deeper with each sharp wail of metal against metal. His hand suddenly launched out, grasping the chain tightly and holding it still.
"Stop that." It was almost a snarl, but he managed to keep the sheer anger low in his tone because something she'd said was far more interesting than the irritating squeaks of the swing.


"Run", he breathed, a cruel smile gracing his features. He knew of only one who used the word to everyone and anyone he met, because with him came danger and disaster. The Master had already suffered his fair share, and caused enough of it too. Oh, Doctor, Doctor, where are you hiding? He softened his smile and gave a gentle shake of his head.
"Of course. The alleyway," he murmured. He had no idea as to what the Doctor had said to her, but this was curious. Never had anyone thought him and the Doctor to be the one person. Especially now in his drawn, pale form; they couldn't have looked any different.

And yet.

The Master released the swing's chain, letting his hand rise to rub the stubble on his chin. She was more than intriguing now. What creature possessed no scent, and identified those of the same species as one and the same? His lips curved upwards. This did have potential. Perhaps she would be fun to toy with. He'd been so bored, lurking and hiding away. If people saw Harry Saxon skulking around the city, he'd be arrested instantly. Not they would ever be able to hold him, only the Doctor had the chance to do such a thing.


"Did you follow...me here?" He questioned lightly, clapsing his hands behind him in the manner of a past life.

[quinnmcghann]

Quinn's face grew more and more despairing as he refuted her, not despair for herself but for him. Had he forgotten everything? She wondered if he even remembered his name. No, he must remember some things, he just told her essentially that he knew of his home. Maybe it was just short term memory?

"Stop that."

Quinn hadn't even noticed how close he had gotten. The chain of the swing shivered in his hands, threatening to fall at the slightest tug. Quinn didn't bother moving, only watched his face with care.

"Run. ....Of course. The alleyway," A comforted smile flitted across Quinn's features as he let go of the chain and brought his hand to his chin. He did remember after all! Quinn couldn't understand why it had taken so long... maybe he talked to lots of people in alleyways? He began to smile too, which made Quinn feel a little better about the situation because she understood smiles to be a good sign.

"Did you follow...me here?"


"No." That was true, wasn't it? And yet, it felt like she was supposed to come here... like maybe when he had told her to "run" earlier, he had told her to run here? But that didn't make any sense: he couldn't have told her something without her hearing it, could he? Quinn's mouth opened again hesitantly, as if to take back her words.

"That is, well, I don't think so. I'm not sure." Her gaze drifted to the tarnished pictures embossed on the central column of the ride, a lion and a unicorn. The paint had peeled considerably, leaving very little of the original image behind. A frown drifted across her features like a stormcloud battered by the winds. She glanced back over at him, unwilling to wrestle with these thoughts any further.

"What happened to you? You seem different from this morning. Did you get mugged?" This seemed like a probable reason for someone to wander around in dirty, ill-fitting clothes, not knowing what happened a few hours before. "Your hair looks lighter, too. I mean, you were still blonde-ish this morning but now it looks all white, like it was bleached." Did people have their hair turn white normally? Maybe it was shock. Maybe the muggers thought it would be amusing to pour bleach on him? That would explain the change of clothes, but why would muggers carry bleach?

[simm]

He nodded slightly. So. The Doctor had not managed to track him yet. The Master wasn't sure if he was supposed to be pleased or disappointed. Of course, it would be ideal to stay in hiding, any rational mind could see that. But his mind was certainly not rational. He wanted the Doctor to find him, to continue their timeless game of cat and mouse. But it was not to happen. Yet.

"Not sure?"

[/b] He echoed. A short laugh, lacking in warmth burst from his throat. "How can you be unsure? Think."[/b] He rapped his finger against the side of his head hard, eyes watching unblinkingly. The urge to step forward and shake the answer from her was tempting, but he resisted. Whatever sense was left in his mind convinced him that scaring her off would be a bad move. After all, she had met his Doctor.

He stared hard at her for a moment, as if processing what she'd said. Finally he dragged his hands across his face, rubbing against the bristles on his chin. "I met with some trouble."[/b] He was not in the mood to spin cover stories. The girl seemed unaware of how people worked which suited him fine. Change the topic and surely she would lose track.

Although. Perhaps this could work in his favour.

The Master leant towards Quinn, meeting her gaze. "You know I'm not human, don't you? I'm a rare species, probably like yourself. But there's one other of my kind around here. He attacked me and-"[/b] The Master paused, and shook his head slowly. "He stole my appearence. Left me like this!"[/b] He threw his hands up, stepping away from her suddenly. His shoulders heaved with deep breaths, and one wild eye peered back at her. "This body is dying. And he has run off with my true form."[/b] He let the tragedy of the idea linger, dropping his gaze to the floor below.

Now...would she be naive enough to take the bait?[/blockquote]

[quinnmcghann]

"Not sure?" How can you be unsure? Think."

"Well, I believe I didn't." stressed Quinn, looking at her fingers and how they wrapped around the rusty chain. "But what one believes is not always necessarily true. I didn't come here looking for you, no, or followed you directly. But this is the first time I've stopped all day you see, since I saw you, really stopped for more than a minute or two, so maybe there is a chance you sent me here? I don't know, I can't make proper sense of it." She pressed her cheek gently against the chain. "I have been running all day, from everything. Everyone. I wouldn't do that normally. Why?" she spoke, mostly addressing herself this time.

Finally he dragged his hands across his face, rubbing against the bristles on his chin. "I met with some trouble."

Quinn's gaze flickered back up to him, watching the drift of his hand across his face. It was an interesting movement, one she had not seen before. Perhaps it had something to do with thought, or hesitation? She wanted to mimic it, but had a feeling it wouldn't work the same for her somehow.

"You know I'm not human, don't you? I'm a rare species, probably like yourself. But there's one other of my kind around here. He attacked me and-" The Master paused, and shook his head slowly. "He stole my appearance. Left me like this!" He threw his hands up, stepping away from her suddenly.

Quinn made a good audience for his little show, watching raptly as he unfolded his story. She leaned across the swing, pressing tightly against the other chain and giving a small gasp when he threw up his hands.

"This body is dying. And he has run off with my true form."

"Oh no! That's terrible. Why would he do such a thing?" Quinn frowned tenderly. Sarcenets did not understand the morals of time-locked beings, but they were very much against killing. Death marked the end of existence, an end of choices, an end of new paths. Anything that killed unnaturally was considered unfavorable. Of course, what she couldn't understand was how appearance related to continuing to live. She could change her appearance anytime she liked and it wouldn't hurt her health. She could look like a grandmother, or a houseboat. She just didn't because she was trying to blend in and because she was lonely. Besides, it was tricky to get all the details right, changing again and again.

"What kind of rare species are you that changing appearance or form could kill?"

[simm]

A small chuckle escaped his lips. The Master stepped slowly around her, watching his own feet. "Looks like you took the order to run seriously."

[/b] He commented, an amused smile perched on his face. He stopped, spinning on his heel to face her again. "But you found me...again."[/b] The smile became slightly crooked as he leant forwards. "Call it destiny,"[/b] he murmured. But he suddenly jerked away, throwing his arms into the air in a maniac flurry. "Or coincidence! Hah!"[/b]

The Master gave a forced sigh, taking a seat on the swing nearest to her. His pale fingers wrapped around the rusted chain tightly, the orange tint on grey metal constrasting brilliantly with the light flesh. "Because that's what he does. He refuses to die, and steals the bodies of others so he can keep on living, forever."[/b] The lies came so easily, simply because they were not lies as such. Just the truth twisted onto the innocent man. It was easy to detail your own way of living. If only the girl knew the full truth.

The Master's lips quirked upwards briefly before he hunched forwards, feet resting heavily on the ground, elbows resting on his knees. "Time Lord. One of the last."[/b] Dark eyes swivelled to check her reaction. She was not human, but he couldn't tell her species. "Answer for an answer. Tell me this."[/b] He licked his lips. No scent, no fear, no nothing. It was driving him crazy! Everything else in this pathetic backwards world had a scent, a form of identity. But not her. "What are you?" [/b][/blockquote]