asgardmeridiem | Gallifrey Falls (CLOSED)

She should have listened to him and ended the conversation with the Master right from the beginning, but that last remarks from him got under her skin and left her with emotions that were conflicting with one another. The fact she was stuck in the ridiculous sweater barely registered in her mind as she made her way to the Radio Station. Things like obnoxiously designed holiday garments meant little when someone has been informed of a such a life changing event from their future no less.

Romana doesn't say a word when she reaches her destination. Her mind was too wrapped in figuring out what emotion to settle on when she numbly found her way inside to where Braxiatel would be.

Edited 2013-12-14 21:10 (UTC)

Irving makes the tea and hands a steaming up to her, if only to hold. Even that is calming. "The Doctor was out of options, Romana," he says, first of all. "Rassilon came back. I found out. In that Mirror dimension. Apparently all secrets were revealed."

Fingers curling around the mug, she held it but that was all. The last thing she was was thirsty. But it did act as an anchor of sorts for her to have something focus on. She couldn't bring herself to look to Braxiatel. Instead, she carried it with her in silence to one of the empty chairs in the room.

Once seated she forced herself to speak up.

"What else did you find out in that Mirror Dimension?"

It's really frightfully inconvenient that he loves her. All he wants to do is wrap her up in a hug. He moves, with his own cup, to sit nearby.

"Susan's gone. …So am I, point of fact. I imagine you are too. You wouldn't stand for…" Anything less. Well, he just stabbed himself in the hearts.

"... Stand for an all out war against one of the most single minded monsters in the universe? In a fight we could not win? To risk endangering the lives of the younger races that would have been entangled in the crossfire?"

There was a bitter note to her tone but the was most she could express in emotion. She never wanted a war. Everything she had done on Gallifrey was to prevent one from happening. She had been so sure of herself that after she and Trey had trapped the Daleks in the Matrix that they had successfully avoided any chance of it happening. Never would Romana have agreed to an all out war against the Daleks.

So it was only natural that Rassilon would have been brought back. She could imagine that she would have been removed from her position, one way or another.

He leaves her statement hanging there: not because he had nothing to say, but because it deserved to stand alone.

When he speaks it's a quote. "'Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us to the end dare to do our duty as we understand it.'" He gives that a moment too.

"I know you, Romana, as I know the Doctor. Neither of you have acted out of malice or disdain for life. I have faith that even to the end, yours and his, that neither of you will shirk your duties."

All she did was stare at the mug in her hands, at the steam rising from it, the drink remaining untouched.

"Was it all for nothing then?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "Everything we have done, all that we have lost and sacrificed, to bring about a better future for our people... was it all in vain?"

There was a burning sensation in her eyes then. Blinking repeatedly, she reached up and rubbed them with her thumb and forefinger, forcing back the tears that were now threatening to fall. The only time she had ever felt such overwhelming defeat was when she was imprisoned for all those years on Etra Prime.

"No," he says, his tone heavy with grief, but still clear. "No, because the alternative is, was, will be, to sit back and do nothing. Whatever added breath we gave them… we earned. Even if there is now, no more breathing."

He reaches for her, because even Irving Braxiatel, Icicle, cannot be made of stone. "Romana, you had to fight for the Gallifreyan soul."

"And yet it sounds as if that perhaps the universe was better off without the Time Lords or the Daleks."

She would not let herself shed tears. Romanadvoratrelundar was always supposed to be in control, even when hurt deep down in her hearts. She had not earned her own frozen title in the Academy for nothing.

But, perhaps it had been too much, for too long. Effort spent, lives lost, sacrifices made, all for the hope that there would be a time where Gallifrey could be something more than a symbol of corruption and greed for power in the universe. She gave up everything for their home. She devoted herself to their people. And now, here she was, faced with the fact that these efforts would only mean that it would only end in fire.

Finally, finally, she looked up from the mug in her hands to look to Braxiatel. There was a smile on her lips but it did not reach her eyes. It was hollow, empty. The corners of her vision blurred but she remained firm. No - she would not cry. Not yet. But there was certainly strain on her voice when she spoke.

"But then I hear that the Daleks still survived? Was the Master also right about that?"

It was a silent plea to Braxiatel to tell her that the Master was, in fact, wrong.

Edited 2013-12-14 23:41 (UTC)

"Do we know that?" he points out. "The act of the president doesn't always echo the acts of the people. You know that. Pandora was proof of that.…though, I won't defend the Daleks." He steels himself against that look. He can't afford to pull away. "Yes. He was right."

"No, of course not." She found herself nodding her head in agreement, though it only lasted for a few seconds. Perhaps she wasn't in control of her emotions as well as she believed herself to be. There were innocent people who lived on Gallifrey. Those who were not involved in the unpleasant ways of politics and Temporal Powers. She had even hoped to try opening the Academy once more to outsiders now that the dilemma with the Dogma Virus had been solved. They were not the ones she would wish any harm to come to.

The news of what is to come left her confused, torn between this overwhelming sorrow that gripped her heart and the rage that was lingering. Rage at the Master for announcing this news in an open conversation through the bracelet's network. At the Daleks for being the ever constant terror in their lives. At herself for not being strong to keep the war from happening.

And when Braxiatel only confirms what the other had admitted to, she lowered her head, gripping the mug tightly with both hands while saying nothing. Her fingers trembled as her nails scratched at the ceramic mug.

"I'm sorry," he says, at length and after some time. "I'm sorry you have to know and… and not be able to make use of the information. We shall forget it once we leave here."

And he wonders if that's a mercy or a curse. He knows well the enormity of that kind of information and the responsibility of acting on it without knowing intimately what's going on. And now he's going to fail anyway.

The mug, shaking slightly in her hands, made a faint sound as she abruptly set it down on another empty seat beside her. Had she held it a moment longer the tea inside would have spilled all over the floor.

"Until then... we're to go about our lives knowing all of this," Romana replied quietly. Her shoulders trembled but she refused to raise her head. Her eyes were closed now and she could feel something wet slowly roll down her cheeks. "And pretend that nothing is wrong. That nothing has changed."

Curse him until the end of his days, but he cannot sit and do nothing. He puts one hand into the space left by the cup and the other on her far shoulder, gently pulling her to him in a kind of embrace, as awkward as it is.

"Not when we're alone, Romana."

She let him pull her to him and gripped his hand. With her head stilled bowed she could hide her tears from him and allow herself to sit there, letting them fall freely, and most likely staining his sweater in the process.

She couldn't even remember the last time she cried - it felt foreign to her, to be reduced to pure emotion when she was always so in control.

But they were tears for those who would be trapped in this eventual future. Braxiatel. Leela. Narvin. The Doctor. Their people. The other Temporal Powers that would surely be pulled in. And the innocent races that knew nothing of their conflict, yet they too, would eventually be dragged down along with the rest.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as her free hand moved awkwardly to cover her face, feeling the tears against her fingers and palm.

It wasn't as if he had any attachment. It was, after all, cursed. And though Romana might describe herself as such, there is only one that he can find any true attachment to and she is crying.

Her tears send arcs of pain through him, especially as they speak for the pain beyond herself but the uncounted lives lost in times to come that all the plans he makes, the courage Romana shows, the cunning that Narvin wields and the knife that Leela bears cannot stop.

"So am I," he confessed.

Where words should have been, there was only silence save for the occasional muffled sounds she made as she wept. Tomorrow she would be able to show her face to the others. Pretend that everything would be fine and move on with life here in Asgard.

But for now, just for today, the Lady Romanadvoratrelundar, proud President of Gallifrey and all of her dominions, was nothing more than a person forced to face her own future far too quickly. Now understanding what the Doctor had meant when he had said he knew how it will all end.

"Don't... Don't tell any of the others you saw me... like this," Romana held his hand still and did not budge.

Irving quietly listened, rubbing her back gently as she wept, listening to her tears his own breathing, to the faint sounds of the wind and the cold outside.

He didn't really think, the thoughts going by too fast to really settle and frankly, Irving had no intention of capturing them.

He looked down at her when she spoke. "I won't say a word, I promise."

"Thank you."

For a few minutes more she remained like that. The tears would eventually begin slowing some and her shoulders trembling less. All she could think about were the ones back home and how knowing what she knew now would amount to nothing in the end.

Lowering her hand from her eyes she pulled back just enough to lift her head. Romana rubbed her left eye with the heel of her palm, trying to force away those tears.

Telling people serves no purpose. The Master's revelations were public enough that if they didn't put two and two together and know Romana's pain, then they no right to hear about it and if they did they would guess enough to want to help her.

It isn't fair that in a single week, he has to brace those he loves against their pain and for the same reason.

But fairness and Braxiatel are an unrequited relationship and had always been so.

When she starts to pull away he knows it's a step for her to gather hers and he continues to wait.

Wiping them away took a little time. Focusing on her breathing, she willed herself to take slow, careful breaths. Although she could bring herself to stop the flow of tears there was still a pain in her chest. What the future had in store for her still gripped her heart --this being human business was still as unnerving as ever-- but at least that was easy enough to hide.

When she believed herself able to look up again, she brushed the last of the tears from her eyes. They were a little red now but she had no plans of seeing anyone that day.

"I must look like a mess now," she muttered quietly.

A smile, albeit a barely there, soft and sad one, is on his lips when she looks at him and asks the question. "Hm. That jumper is a bit much."

"What?" For a moment she really had forgotten that she was dressed in that cursed sweater. In her list of priorities the news of home did out weigh them. Casting a quick glance down at herself, she let out a sigh and shook her head. "Right... these dreadful things."

Edited 2013-12-16 04:35 (UTC)

"At least they do the job," he points out. "If garishly."

"For warmth certainly. And to be make to look ridiculous too," Romana said quietly, although, there was a small note of humor to her tone.

The initial shock of the news seemed to have eased a little but only a little. She really shouldn't consider any form of socializing, at least for the remainder of the day. And now she wasn't sure she should keep her appointment for tea with the TARDIS tomorrow.

"I apologize for making you see that," came her apology again as she rubbed the corners of her eyes closest to her nose.

He frowned. He really wished she stopped apologising. "You didn't make me," he pointed out. "I volunteered, remember?"

He was hardly expecting her to take the news of Gallifrey with stiff upper lip and a cool eye, was he?

"Yes, well--," was all she could say before she realized she couldn't think of a single reason or explanation to respond with. The news really had thrown her off and left her all mixed up, mentally and emotionally.

With an exasperated sigh she propped her elbows on her knees, covering her face with her hands once again. There were no tears this time. Just the feeling of exhaustion taking over, plain and simple.

"How could he be so careless about this. Speaking about it as if it were nothing more than the weather?" Were the partially muffled words she spoke.

He blinked as he realised that that was a question he had had an answer to. "Because he doesn't believe it's true," he told her. "He believes that the planet is gone, but there are survivors. The Doctor doesn't."

Well this all has the makings of a wonderful day. Lowering her hands and leaning back in her chair, she brushed away the strands of blonde hair that fell over her face.

"And so the only two survivors of our home are the Doctor and the Master while the Daleks remain ever after this war." This... was going to take some time to adjust to. And while she still had more questions on the matter, the less she found out the better. Already knowing this much was painful enough.

"Our legacy," Irving added, bitterly and quiet. He moves back into his own chair and looks up at the roof.

Gallifrey Falls (CLOSED)

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