the_last_resort | Blackmoon Celebration

[Narvin gives the tiniest flinch when Kay mentions PTSD from a terrorist experience. He is quite sure his brain is fine, just fine. He insists upon it, even. He does not have any mental disorder of any sort, and if he did have trauma he'd partition it away. But these recent explosions have got him tense, on edge, prone to nightmares.

But he listens carefully to everything that Kay has to say. And at the end of it all, he nods slowly. He still wants to know everything he can, but Kay has given him something to think about.]

A looming is...I suppose the closest human analogues would be something like a cross between a baby shower and a first birthday. When an infant Gallifreyan is taken from the loom, there is a formal gathering of the House. The name of the newest member is presented and entered into the ledgers. And tombing is much what it sounds like. It is the ceremony where we inter the dead in the crypt after the funeral and the reading of the will, and verify that their consciousness has been uploaded to the Matrix.

[Surprisingly for all the horrors that Kay has been through, that he has seen, he doesn't suffer from the same problems. He can't. Too much depends on him and if he doesn't have a healthy detachment he couldn't allow people to suffer through inappropriate leadership at his hand, bad reflex decisions.]

[And if he doesn't think he can deal with it, he'll quiet literally have it removed from his head and only leave the base information for the event.]

[Kay's pretty level-headed, and he wears his level-headedness now. His hands itch for a cigarette but he doesn't light one up. He doesn't want to put off the dignitaries. Like he's mentioned; this could be a good chance to rehome a lot of people that have nowhere to go, but need better places than one primitive planet of neutral ground.]

Sounds like a nice time. Still probably too much party for you?

Gallifreyan celebrations tend to be much quieter than all of this. [He gestures broadly, indicating not just the party in the gardens but the whole festivities.]

But...well...my House may be my family, but that doesn't mean I entirely get along with them.

Do you have family, Agent Kay?

[Sweet god, in a few words he goes from needing a cigarette to needing some booze. Not even a tick of irritation or any sort of unrest reaches his face, though. Not really irritation at Narvin, just this sense he can't really manage to be sad about something that he very much should be sad about. It just turns into something else in his head, another kind of unhappiness, a sense of regret that he never got to be the father that he feels like he should have been.]

No.

We give 'em up when we become agents.

[Fuck it. He gets out his pack of cigarettes to pack against his hand.]

Do you miss them?

[Narvin thinks it's an innocuous question.]

I can't really take the time, to. [But he does miss them. He misses all those lost chances with his daughter especially.]

I take it you're really missin' home, though.

More like...[he thinks of how to explain it]...I'm missing home as I would like it to be, not as it is or was. I miss an idea of home that has never really existed in the first place. I have always been devoted to my planet, but it isn't all that I'd like it to be, especially these days.

[That earns a little bit longer of a look, and he pulls out a smoke finally. He doesn't light it. He just holds it between his lips.]

What happened to it? It or the idea of it?

[His shoulders slump a little and for the first time his eyes look his age.]

War. Disease. Greed, ambition, lust for power.

I imagined Gallifrey as the centre of civilization. A planet where the people respect the tenets of Rassilon with wisdom, honour, and tradition. A place that stood as the bulwark against chaos and temporal lawlessness. But it isn't, and I don't know if it ever was. Trying to save it has nearly destroyed me. Now, I'm almost afraid to go back. But I have a duty and I can't just run away like a renegade.

My trip here was partially supposed to be a breath of fresh air during a brief moment of peace, but also a reccie to see if there's anything in this universe that might help us.

Ah. I see.

[He fishes out his lighter and looks at the inscription on it, before tilting his head at Narvin.]

I don't think you're doin' any of the breath of fresh air part, are you?

[He crosses his arms over his chest.]

Relaxation doesn't come naturally to me. And I haven't often had opportunity to practice.

What about you? What brings you here? Or is that another question you aren't permitted to answer. [He says with the tiniest hint of a teasing smile, his expression lightening. Frustrating as it is for someone as curious as Narvin to come up against someone as nondisclosing as Kay, as someone in the intelligence business he can appreciate a person who never lets a hint of a leak escape.]

[Without a beat he says-] The fishing. I never have a chance to fish anymore.

This is gonna smell a little bad for you, by the way. [He's at least nice enough to warn him before he lights up, even if the breeze carries it away quickly.]

Fishing. [Narvin repeats, flatly. He's not sure whether to believe Kay or not.]

[His nose twitches at the cigarette smoke, but he manages to keep any expression of distaste for the smell off his face.]

Why do humans smoke? It was all the rage last time I was on Earth, but I've never understood it.

Yeah, nothin' like a nice quiet day out on a lake with nothin' bothering you catchin' fish.

[He looks at the cigarette. Shrugs.]

Nicotine, I guess. Something to do with our mouths that isn't chewing nails.

So what are some other delicacies that you might not eat now? Speaking of fish.

Mammals and their sucking instincts. [He says as if he's forgotten that he, too, is a mammal.]

Well, I'm trying not to think too hard about how you would describe tafelshrew with shlenk blossoms.

I don't know. Those eggs come in a container that keeps the contents pretty well protected from anything outside.

But I can come up with a hell of a description for anything if you give me time. [At least he's honest.] What are you if not a mammal?

Well...technically...I suppose Gallifreyan base genetics are mammalian. But with all the DNA recoding Rassilon did, it hardly seems the same. [Narvin likes to think so anyway.]

Why don't you want to be a mammal? [He asks around his cigarette. But then removes it to smile at an ambassador that's... basically a rock, that passes by.]

It's all a bit primitive. Animalistic. Natural. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I suppose. I know a woman who takes great pride in being primitive and animalistic. It seems to work for her. [But for all that he respects Leela, he still can't help but feel that Time Lord ways are just better somehow.]

[He purses his lips as he thinks about how to explain his thoughts.]

We are technological. Not in the sense that robots are, it's more sophisticated than that. We use technology to manipulate and program biology, to harness and control nature with science rather than be left to nature's whims. In some ways, we're now more like our machines--the most advanced of which are also often living--than we are like the native wildlife. The line between Time Lord biology and technology is a thin one.

[And then Kay, in a glorious display of curiosity, at least waits until the ambassador is well out of the way and there are no dignitaries about before he asks his next question.]

So did you keep nipples or your equipment because it was traditional?

[This is actually a genuine question.]

[Narvin tries to process the question, his eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open. That. Was probably something that nobody has ever asked any Time Lord about before.

Processing...

...processing...

Nope. All mental systems crashing. Instead of a blue screen of death, Narvin's brain failure results in a red face of death as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

Reboot.]

We got rid of navels.

[He doesn't know why he said that. Back to trying to answer the question like a proper detached adult.]

But all the rest is still there and still...ah...mostly standard.

Do they work?

[Again, it's an honest question. Considering the man works with people that live in cybernetic suits and manage to carry on relationships with humans. His delivery is deadpan, flat, though there's this terrible, awful demon that lurks in the lower recesses of his mind that wants to say, "Well I guess they were expecting you to enjoy a party at some point."]

...

......

Yes?

[He didn't mean to include a question mark pitch at the end of that answer. He clears his throat and tries again.]

Yes.

[And now he's wondering what motivated Rassilon to decide that navels should definitely go but nipples and genitals must remain. Things he's never pondered about the Great Founder before.]

Huh.

[And that's all he has to say about that.]

You might want to be careful with the holier than thous around here, though. I'm thinkin' with the dubious composition of the explosives, your public hints you have some weapons knowledge, demands to know the proceedings and generally over observant and suspicious nature you might seem like a really obvious suspect to the ambassadors.

That said, I don't think you're a terrorist. I just think you're really bad at hiding shit you're proud of and got a lot of stuff that shames you that you wanna deny.

[Narvin huffs out a breath.]

I always seem to be everyone's first suspect. I suppose I should thank you for breaking from the trend.

[He stares at Kay for a few nanospans, assessing, then nods once to himself.]

May I take you into my confidence, Agent Kay? And have your word that, barring reasons of security, you won't spread around the things I tell you?

Blackmoon Celebration

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