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I·ᴍ ᴀɴ Eɴɢʟɪsʜ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ Eᴀʀᴛʜ﹐
ᴀɴᴅ I ʀᴀɴ ᴏғғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ғʀᴏᴍ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ I ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ғᴀɴᴄʏ…
✖ Indie semi-selective Rp Blog
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✖ 7+ years of roleplaying experience, 1+ year experience as Clara
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✖ Open rp crossovers and OCs
"O-kay.." That was a new one. "It wouldn’t really be a time machine if it traveled through time and space would it? It has to have a different name.” All weirdness aside, Sam was a huge nerd and he really couldn’t help it.
"It’s called a TARDIS. T-A-R-D-I-S, stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. It’s
“Oh aren’t you just marvelous,” she said to the TARDIS with a clap of her hands before she poked her head back out the door, “Are you coming or not?”
Sam looked helplessly at the girl. “I-okay. What?” he forced himself to remain calm and listen to what she had stay. After all, he had a knack for attracting things that weren’t… normal, per say. So, he gave her an honest expression and urged her on.
Lillian opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She had lived such a normal life for a while, she blended in with the humans, made friends, got a job, and left behind her burden of a past; but now she was throwing everything away and going back to her old ways if she were to go back to her TARDIS.
"This er, machine isn’t really a vending machine,” she scanned his face for a moment before continuing, “it’s actually a time machine and it travels through time and space.”
Science was applied math — at least the interesting science was. Still, the Doctor kept his mouth shut, if only because he was now sucking on one of the lollies a student had had the bright idea to bring to class; probably should’ve told them off for it, but instead he’d asked for one as they passed, and now he was just waiting for Lillian’s next move — because whatever it was, he was very interested in seeing it. And then she was calling him out of the classroom and he leapt onto his feet, hands shoved into his trousers’ pockets like forcing a woman to converse with ‘im was a daily routine. He tried not to put too much thought into how she’d be giving him two minutes and still manage to return to the class in “one minute”; humans were always messing up times like that. But then again… he followed her out, trying to keep his burning curiosity to something more like a polite interest.
”What are you? Can I…?” and as if he wasn’t already unusual enough, the man that called himself the Doctor produced a stethoscope from ‘round his neck. No matter what she said she was, he needed confirmation. Once and for all. Because sure, he’d known there was something going on inside this school, something extraterrestrial — but he didn’t think it was this. Carefully, and without really paying attention to whether or not she’d agreed because he was rubbish at listening to people (that was why he had a stethoscope), the Doctor pressed it to one side her chest… and then to the other side. Two heartbeats drummed inside her, and in a somewhat dramatic fashion the stethoscope’s disc dropped from his fingertips, swinging back to rest against his own chest.
A thousand questions raced through his mind at once, accompanied with half a dozen disbelieving thoughts and about a million ones of hope that he had to squash down because he couldn’t afford to be hopeful, not yet. Not… now. Very deliberately, he lowered his voice to a hush and pulled the door to the classroom shut behind him — something he hadn’t thought to do until now — and asked the only stream of questions he could think to ask that sounded as least slightly appropriate:
"You were in the Time War, you were there. You saw it, you painted it. How did you get out? Are there others? What happened, why haven’t you— do you have a TARDIS?” maybe they’d all gotten out. Maybe everyone was safe and they’d been told to just not talk to him because of how stupid he was, of how he’d tried (and failed) to kill them all - but that would still be okay because they’d still be alive, maybe he didn’t actually— “do you even know what you are?” His two minutes were well and truly up. The Doctor didn’t care.
Lillian shuddered a bit as the cool metal of the chest piece was pressed against her chest. She glanced down at the pocket it was pulled from which was much too small to hold a stethescope; but of course, Time Lord technology, bigger on the inside. Though she already knew that he was a Time Lord, not exactly from his interest in her origins, but more of the familiarity he brought to her mind. A feeling that just screams Time Lord to her, but in the pit of her stomach this frightened her. What if her past was finally catching up with her?
"Someone has a lot of questions,” she replied, trying to delay herself from answering the questions, even if it was just for a moment. She didn’t like talk about this stuff, it was all just a burden; a ton of metal that rested on her shoulders and weighed her down. Every time her mind would drift off into these thoughts she felt like a ship that sinks off shore because of too much cargo. That being said, she preferred not to associate herself with Gallifrey anymore. Avoiding the topic was going well too, until he showed up.
Mr. John Smith, the man in the suit with hair like a ruffly mess, the way he just marched into her life so confidently, like he were to do this on a daily basis. He was so curious and stubborn, making him good at getting his way. That’s how she saw him at least.
"I wasn’t in any war,” she mumbled, making sure to be quiet so no passerby would hear them, “the painting is from a nightmare I’ve been having a lot.” This was the exact moment where she realized they weren’t nightmares, they were reality. A much darker and colder truth that she would have been happier to not have known, even though the thought always roamed her mind. It was just easier to be able to push it to the side knowing there isn’t any actual proof that it was true, that there probably wasn’t a war that killed all the Time Lords and it was all just a silly nightmare. But there was.
Her head was hanging low now as she stared at her shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with the man in front of her. “Yes I have a TARDIS, but she isn’t working.” Memories of her TARDIS resurfaced her mind, she hadn’t checked on her in a while. It just sat on the corner of a street in form of a vending machine with a small ‘out of order’ sign hanging from it, abandoned and dying. She often tried to work on it and fix it, but after a while it became a lost cause and soon she stopped coming back to it.
Lillian was pulled away from her thoughts as the man asked more questions, she lifted her head back up and crossed her arms behind her back. She looked around the hallway checking to see if anyone was around them before she answered his final question, “Yes, I know I’m a Time Lord, and I know you are one too.”
“Though I think it’s only fair if I get to ask a question myself,
What happened in this Time War you speak of?”
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