εscαρε ғяσм gαℓℓιғяεү |ησт αccερтιηg| New poll :3

[~Phantasos~]

Chance
Age:21
Location: A Tardis in Gallifrey
Mood: Thoughtful

Chance listened quietly as Voyager told of his past. She watched him falter when he mentioned his many years of traveling. Her eyes met his when he turned to look at her with an unidentified emotion gleaming in his eyes,one that she'd seen often before during their travels. A faint frown settled on her brow as she waited for him to finish,before sitting up and facing him. "Why do you always look at me like that?" She inquired softly,hoping to have a private conversation. Her fingers played mindlessly with the zipper on her jacket as she was silent for a moment. "You're always looking at me like that. Everywhere we go. Always."

[AlaskanAlpaca]

TheVoyager

Age: 250 ~ Tags: Everyone. ~ Equipment:Sonic Screwdriver, First Aid and Sewing kits. ~Mood: Awkward

The Voyager swallowed hard as Chance spoke to him. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he remembered- "No!" He rebuked his mind sharply. He looked back at Chance, into her deep brown eyes, trying to find the right thing to say without bringing up his own unwanted memories and frightening Chance. "I-" He began, his voice cracking. "I just... don't want to lose you." He replied finally.

[~Phantasos~]

Chance
Age:21
Location: A Tardis on Gallifrey
Mood: Apologetic

Chance watched the Voyager battle himself in an internal struggle before he answered her brokenly. Her gaze softened,seeing his discomfort and sadness. "Silly Time Lord. Do you honestly think I'll get myself killed?" She teased softly,to lighten the mood and hugged him gently. "Don't worry,it'll be a long time before you get rid of me,Voyager." She added quietly then pulled back and smiled at him.

[gallifrey falls.]

T h e A r t i s t
♡ 250 ♡ Sonic paintbrush ♡ content ♡
>> Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed <<
~Khalil Gibran

The Artist as the Voyager concluded his tale, and looked sympathetic. "That was very interesting to hear, but I'm sorry about you and your sister's fallout. Have you talked since?"
More ideas spun through her already packed head, each seeming as silly as the next. What on Gallifrey was she going to say about herself? Everything seemed childish or dumb. At last the Artist settled on an idea, and told herself if the others though her silly for the story, then they would have to think so! Smiling to herself now, she realized that did sound childish in a sense.

[AlaskanAlpaca]

TheVoyager

Age: 250 ~ Tags: Everyone. ~ Equipment:Sonic Screwdriver, First Aid and Sewing kits. ~Mood: Awkward

The Voyager smiled in return at Chance. Then, on hearing The Artist's question, he looked at her and, after a moment's hesitation, he replied with a stone face:"No. No, I haven't." The Voyager inhaled sharply and stared at his shoes. "She's dead. Killed somewhere in the past few years of the time war. Never got to say goodbye. Never got to say I'm sorry." The Voyager looked up again. "But I'm sure that's something most of us never got to do. We all have those we wanted to say final words to, but it just couldn't happen. It's too late now." His abruptness surprised and shamed him. He winced as he immediately regretted his words. As an attempt at an apology, he raised his eyes back up to The Artist's. "You want a go at telling your story now? I'm sure it's brilliant." He tried a smile, but it turned into one of his famous lopsided grins.

[~Phantasos~]

Chance
Age:21
Location:A Tardis in Gallifrey
Mood:Upset

Chance stood abruptly and walked to a secluded part of the Tardis. Voyager's harsh and blunt statements had reminded her of the past she was always trying to forget. A tear slid down her tears and she felt a sob rise. Her hand covered her mouth to muffle the cries and she closed her eyes in a vain attempt to fight off the flurry of surfacing emotions and memories. She shook her head forcefully,trying to push back the memories that had brought her so much pain. Her fingers traced the thin metal dog tags hanging inside her shirt,just above her heart.

[gallifrey falls.]

T h e A r t i s t
♡ 250 ♡ Sonic paintbrush ♡ lost in memories ♡
>> Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed <<
~Khalil Gibran

At the Voyager's grin, the Artist couldn't help but smile as well; he seemed like the kind of person that could light up the whole room just by being cheerful. Nevertheless, her eyes were still full of sadness as she heard him explain his sister was gone, so in a soft time she whispered, "I'm sorry." What else was there to say? The Voyager was right in saying similar events had befallen each one of them.
Taking a deep breath, she gave a nod. "Yes, I suppose I can tell my story now. Where to start..?" The last part of her sentence was mostly murmnered to herself, and the Artist paused a moment, considering. At last, taking one last breath, she began.
"When I was very young, only around 10 or 12, Daleks invaded my hometown and wrecked utter havoc on it. To my knowlage, everyone there was exterminated, including all my friends and family. I was able to flee, along with one or two others, but we soon went our separate ways. What was I to do? As a young Time Lady of 11, no friends or family and my world litterly crashing down around me, I felt utterly alone. So I did the only thing I really knew: making art and traveling. I went from town to town, never staying ping left they meet the same fate as mine. Able to sell my art and buy little things such as food and clothes, more often than not people would invite me to stay s night or two with them. I never built any lasting relationships since I traveled so much, but I had aquanauts here and there. Not long after, many people who would buy my drawings nicknamed me "Artist", and the name just stuck I suppose. I never got an official name since I was never able to attend the Academy, but whoever I met that asked my name I told them such, so by now it is as much my name as another's."
She stopped, glancing around quickly. "Well, there you are. That's me!" Settling back slightly, she began to absent mindedly twirl her sonic paintbrush between her fingers.

[AlaskanAlpaca]

TheVoyager

Age: 250 ~ Tags: Everyone. ~ Equipment:Sonic Screwdriver, First Aid and Sewing kits. ~Mood: Awkward

The Voyager watched Chance walk away. He worried that something he had said might have upset her, she didn't usually walk away without letting him know. What he had said was true, but uncharacteristically sharp. He didn't know all of Chance's story, just as she didn't know all of his, she always had been a little closed off on the subject of her history, and The Voyager was okay with it being that way. Sure, he'd love to know all about her past, but if she didn't want to talk about it, so be it.. Some stories are hard to drudge back up without a terrible amount of tears, he knew that for certain. The Voyager made a mental note to apologize to Chance later.

As The Artist came to a close on her story, The Voyager forced himself to meet her eyes again instead of following Chance. "How fascinating!"He exclaimed as The Artist finished. "Lovely name, too, if I may add." Then he looked to the others. "Anyone else want to tell their story?" He asked. "If not, we could try to decide on what we should do next. We are still on a war planet, after all." He let his eyes stray towards the door. He tried not to think of all the innocent people out there, screaming and crying for salvation. He tried not to think of the Daleks who were hunting those people down and killing them mercilessly, while the nine of them sat, pleasant and warm in their cozy little Tardis. He felt terribly guilty over all those lives he was failing to save.

[uncanny valley]

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Ｔｈｅ Ｓｃｉｅｎｔｉｓｔ
the mad genius ✧ 280 ✦ tags: everyone ✧ mood: oh no they're talking about the past and I don't like the past
{ "There is a fine line between insanity and genius; I have erased this line." }

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The Scientist listened to the others' stories; all of them had known suffering of some sort, and a pang hit him when he realized that he wasn't even surprised. They were at war; this was their new reality. Even as they sat here, the war was raging outside, and the Scientist felt terrible as he pictured it. He'd always been useless at fighting, and would make an awful soldier, but that didn't mean the Scientist wouldn't try to save the lives of those he could. He still didn't understand why they couldn't just take more than nine Time Lords with them; then he realized it.
Idiot, he thought to himself angrily. A ship with so many on board could never sneak past the Dalek ships. We'll have trouble as it is. Externally, he smiled crookedly and said, "Well, I really think we should get out of here first." He gestured towards the doors. "Y'know. Daleks. Our job's to evacuate, right? 'Stay out of trouble,' they said. Like that'll happen. But anyway, it'll be no small task to get through the Dalek ships with all nine of us in here...." He tapped at the calculator as he spoke, glancing down at the screen every once in a while to check and make sure he wasn't making any typos. Imagine messing something up really badly just because you made a stupid mistake, Scientist. He avoided any mention of his own past. He couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was attempt to forge a better future, not make the same mistakes, not have the same failures.

[~Phantasos~]

Chance
Age:21
Location: A room in the Tardis

Chance crumbled under the onslaught of emotions and memories, and curled up on the floor. A small ray of thankfulness crept through her, as she was glad at that the others weren’t around to see her in such a weak state. Slowly, after a time, the feelings of grief and regret began to fade and she used the little strength she had left to push them to the back of her mind and lock them away once more. She gripped the wall as she stood, using it as a steady support to help her to her feet, and looked around curiously. Her surroundings were that of a narrow corridor with three doors and two other halls branching off from this one. The lights hanging from the ceiling flickered dimly, giving the small hall a haunted look. After a minute’s hesitation, she reached for the nearest door and opened it quietly. Her gaze swept across the small room, surprised to find it fully furnished with a bed, wardrobe, desk, and bookshelf. The room itself was not large, but provided plenty of space for movement. The bed was spread with a colorful quilt of rich greens, blues, and purples, which matched the walls of green. The wardrobe was made of some type of sturdy wood and the bookshelf was small with only four shelves; it hosted only a few books. A pale blue door caught her attention and she walked over with great interest to what lay behind it. She opened the small door, placed between the bookshelf and wardrobe, and discovered a modestly equipped bathroom. A smile found its way her face and she lay down on the bed with a sigh. The emotional display early had worn her out and she found herself drifting off to sleep within seconds of lying down. Feeling safe in the room, she let the sleep overcome her and was swept away into the world of dreams.