#fractise

❛ you know i can see right ? the nice acts. the constant questions about the SYMBIOTE ? i know what you're planning and we both know i won't let it happen. ❜

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫. Ravaging the cosmos like a plague, tearing apart the cosmos atom by atom in an unending flame. It had started like a thundering storm, ripping apart planets and galaxies like powerful rods of lightning piercing through the cosmos. Now, those tears had bled into nightmarish hordes of insanity as The War dragged on. While each side claimed it was getting closer and closer and closer to victory, the eternity-long year stalemate that had shown no sign of stopping was beginning to bleed across more than just Time and space... but across The Multiverse. The War was like a virus, spreading itself across all conceivable reality like a plague. It had consumed everything. Nothing could escape it. Not even 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ So 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 was 𝐍𝐨 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ At least, that's what he told himself. Choosing to abandon the name, The Renegade standing in the bleak empty halls was known by many as The Doctor of War, The Oncoming Storm, and The Butcher of Skull Moon. Slowly but surely, his actions in the war were leaving a stain upon his soul that he could only cope with by abandoning his titles. Choosing to assume a whole new identity altogether. A lone soldier roaming the battlefield. A heavy, tattered brown U-boat jacket rested over a pink dress shirt and a velvet red waistcoat, a pink scarf wrapped around the neck, shoved into the coat. a heavy bandolier... tattered pants, gaiters, and muddy boots. Tied up grey hair and heavy brown eyes, a bandaid over the bridge of the nose. A Soldier.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 𝙏𝒉𝙚 𝙒𝒂𝙧 𝘿𝒐𝙘𝒕𝙤𝒓 crossed into a hallway of steel and darkness. He'd infiltrated this complex when he'd intercepted transmissions in his TARDIS. Familiar codewords sent a shiver up his spine. A figure in the war he'd not encountered for quite some time. When last he met her, he'd been wearing a different face... trying to run from the war, to avoid it. Now, fighting on the frontlines, he'd only encountered this psychopath through their inventions deployed upon the front lines of The War. However, for once, he believes he might have finally gotten the element of surprise. An opportunity to sneak in on The Timelord Science Division, see what they're so busy working on... and compare it to what The Daleks are working on themselves.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Finally making his way toward a huge bulkhead door, The War Doctor reached for his Sonic Screwdriver within his bandolier. A cylindrical steel device with a capacitor on the bottom and a red light on the end. He began to tune it toward a frequency that could open a vault door he only assumed led straight into the top-secret research centers. The very heart of this research station.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ However, just as he was about to activate his Screwdriver, lights in the hallway blasted onto their full power— Soldiers crammed the hallways with their rifles aimed right at him. He could only huff out a sigh of defeat and raise his hands in surrender. A gruff and raspy war-torn voice spoke in frustrated defeat. "You know... I was just beginning to convince myself that this wasn't a trap." He looked past the crowd of soldiers.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ "Good afternoon, Doctor Beckett."

" I ENTRUST IN YOU NOT TO RESTRAIN YOURSELF ------ " the first man casts an ancient eye towards the weapons laid before him , and runs a finger along the hilt . to touch , without harm . a dagger , from some kingdom of eld , lay in its gentle peace . not tasting flesh in centuries until now . and it doesn't so much as cut vandal savage . " to do so would be such a valuable waste of your expertise , docteur . and it can be so hard to find reliable help in times like these . "

the handle of the blade meets savage's palm , and only then does he gesture . something wide & grand , his mighty arm arching out to press such precious metal against the woman's delicate throat . a flick of his wrist , and her head would fall one way , her body another .

" now , be a good dear & listen . "

there is something odd going on with @fractise that howl just can't place.   he's spent a good while observing her,   quietly using what detection magic he can to try and trace the source inside her body.   as all curses do,   the origin begins inside her body itself,   which is already damaged from the cycle of repeated natural destruction and supernatural mending.   the trouble is,   it seems to come from everywhere,   having spread through her to prevent her very power from manifesting into something viable to wield.   of all the curses that could ever be placed on a magic user,   this isn't one howl has ever seen before.   nor would he ever wish to have it placed upon himself.   it's a sad fate.

now,   he enters the room,   a glass goblet filled with steaming liquid gold inside of it.   he's already speckled several strong multi-layered spells into it,   all of which are meant to attempt to accelerate her body's intrinsic healing.   he's not feeling too certain about it.    ❝    i could have picked something less solid,   i know,    ❞    he says,   before she has the chance to say anything.   he perches on the edge of the table next to her and sets the goblet down in front of her.    ❝    but the curse cannot conduct so quickly through the gold,   while my spells are prepared exactly for travel through a substance of this consistency.   just let it seep fully into your skin.   and,   full disclosure :   i don't know if this will help.    ❞

.゜––   starter call.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✨ glass / gold / despair.

" curious? i can see that look in your eye. "

" AH , MY DEAR DOCTOR BECKETT , are you treating ? that's very generous of you !

" THE TENDONS , THE ONES ON THE LEGS . less of a desire to run , that way . we can start whatever else you have in mind from there . your experiments ... i know they can certainly be intricate , in a manner . i tend to be pretty heavy-handed . i wouldn't want to impede ! then , you can have a perfect canvas for your craft . "

" if you die, i can't bring you back. " hello :>c

𝕬 𝖑𝖔𝖜 silky laugh rolled out past Vere's lips, the monster fixing his eyes upon the other with a sly smile. Pinched within his fingertips was a vial, which he would swear up and down he had not stolen off their person but had merely stumbled upon it.

❝ Who's afraid of death here ? What, is this little concoction containing even the proper dosage to take down a beast ?  ❞ Vere sniffed, commenting further, ❝ You wreak of chemicals by the way. Are you some sort of scientist ?  ❞