The Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justthedoctor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-10-31 11:48 pm
justthedoctor) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-10-31 11:48 pm
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Who: The Doctor and Open
Where: The edge of the Badlands.
When: Backdated to later in the evening, as the Call got worse.
What: The Doctor follows the Call. Or at least troes to until you meddling metal blokes stop him!
Warnings: A seriously grouchy, prickly Doctor trying to solve a mystery and getting interrupted...? Tread lightly.
It had been getting worse over time. That much had been obvious from the beginning, of course. But he was surprised with the level of strength with which that obnoxious noise in his head had reached later in the evening the night before. But then the nex day had rolled around, and with it came the anger and frustration and andiety and depression.
He never let anyone in on how bad it was to be in his own head most days. Always put on a smiling face and a happy demeanor and let them think there was nothing wrong. And some days it was almost as if there wasn't. It was still a lie of course, but a clever lie to keep everyone happy. No need worrying over the sad old man in a young man's body. And he knew what the depression was on an intellectual level, thougt it was a constant battle to figure out how much of the hurt and anger was properly directed at himself and how much of it was the depression clouding his thoughts and twisting the way he saw things.
That was at the best of times. This. This was not the best of times.
It wasn't immediately apparent that the suddenly very-bad mood went hand-in-hand with the buzzing in his head. He just knew he was feeling worse ten usual and felt the need to get up, to fidget about and act and pace and rage at himself and cry and had a painful time trying to keep it all inside. He wanted to punch things, to scream, to make something hurt for how much hurt he felt, and that scared him. That feeling was the one that was the worst. That simultaneous want to lash out and the horror at his own rage. And so he paced.
Which was how he realized that the feeling seemed to get slightly...less the further He traveled down the TARDIS' corridors in one particular direction. It got the gears in his head trning, of course, the way everything did. This feeling, this noise, was pulling him. That much was onvious the more he teated the boundaries of it through the internals of his beloved ship. Under a clear mind, he might have simply troed to determine what it was with the scanners and equipment on the TARDIS. But he never thought clearly when his mind was sick, and he hadn't had Rose or Martha or Donna to be his emotional grounder for almost two months now. Over two months? He wasn't even sure anymore.
That was how he found himself bundled up in his long coat and walking. He'd parked the TARDIS on the edge of the Badlands after he'd determined where the pull was coming from. No sense in taking her farther. He could hardly hope to get the right place without her functioning properly when he knew the locale he was in. The way it was now, he knew it was safer to leaver her here. Besides. He might miss something important if her weren't taking it on foot. He was always better able to figure things out when he could get his hands on it and really look it over.
With a set jaw and a determined nod to himself, he took a deep breath and began walking. Hopefully whatever it was wouldn't be too deep in.
Where: The edge of the Badlands.
When: Backdated to later in the evening, as the Call got worse.
What: The Doctor follows the Call. Or at least troes to until you meddling metal blokes stop him!
Warnings: A seriously grouchy, prickly Doctor trying to solve a mystery and getting interrupted...? Tread lightly.
It had been getting worse over time. That much had been obvious from the beginning, of course. But he was surprised with the level of strength with which that obnoxious noise in his head had reached later in the evening the night before. But then the nex day had rolled around, and with it came the anger and frustration and andiety and depression.
He never let anyone in on how bad it was to be in his own head most days. Always put on a smiling face and a happy demeanor and let them think there was nothing wrong. And some days it was almost as if there wasn't. It was still a lie of course, but a clever lie to keep everyone happy. No need worrying over the sad old man in a young man's body. And he knew what the depression was on an intellectual level, thougt it was a constant battle to figure out how much of the hurt and anger was properly directed at himself and how much of it was the depression clouding his thoughts and twisting the way he saw things.
That was at the best of times. This. This was not the best of times.
It wasn't immediately apparent that the suddenly very-bad mood went hand-in-hand with the buzzing in his head. He just knew he was feeling worse ten usual and felt the need to get up, to fidget about and act and pace and rage at himself and cry and had a painful time trying to keep it all inside. He wanted to punch things, to scream, to make something hurt for how much hurt he felt, and that scared him. That feeling was the one that was the worst. That simultaneous want to lash out and the horror at his own rage. And so he paced.
Which was how he realized that the feeling seemed to get slightly...less the further He traveled down the TARDIS' corridors in one particular direction. It got the gears in his head trning, of course, the way everything did. This feeling, this noise, was pulling him. That much was onvious the more he teated the boundaries of it through the internals of his beloved ship. Under a clear mind, he might have simply troed to determine what it was with the scanners and equipment on the TARDIS. But he never thought clearly when his mind was sick, and he hadn't had Rose or Martha or Donna to be his emotional grounder for almost two months now. Over two months? He wasn't even sure anymore.
That was how he found himself bundled up in his long coat and walking. He'd parked the TARDIS on the edge of the Badlands after he'd determined where the pull was coming from. No sense in taking her farther. He could hardly hope to get the right place without her functioning properly when he knew the locale he was in. The way it was now, he knew it was safer to leaver her here. Besides. He might miss something important if her weren't taking it on foot. He was always better able to figure things out when he could get his hands on it and really look it over.
With a set jaw and a determined nod to himself, he took a deep breath and began walking. Hopefully whatever it was wouldn't be too deep in.