Log; Complete

[master-supreme.livejournal.com]

When; Thursday, June 18, Evening
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Lucy Saxon (cathedralgirl) and her hubby (master_supreme)
Summary; The happy couple's reunion! <3
Log;

Although the circumstances of his arrival had been less than ideal, the Master couldn't help but adore this city just a little bit (and it was out of adoration, of course, that he wanted to see it collapse in on itself as the citizens devoured each other in a degenerate frenzy and he harnessed the power of the deities. Simple stuff, really). The ticking had bothered him at first-- yes, he could admit that. When combined with the endless drumbeats raging in his head, it was too loud, too cacophonous for him to think straight when the ticking first began. It couldn't even hit the same beat as the drums... that made it worse. Constant distraction. But, after remaining awake all night, listening to it, he came to love the ticking. The drums spoke of war, but the ticking was something else... He would decipher it soon enough. In the meantime, it was a handy alarm! He'd always know if somebody was near just by the absence of the clicking.

And that was, in fact, why he knew his darling Lucy was not at her quarters. The ticking, steadily click click clicking away, faithfully accompanied the drums. And although he hadn't had his laser screwdriver with him, picking past the lock had been simple enough. To think that a lock could stop him. Tssk, Lucy had always been so naive.

Oh, but how she'd changed. Lovely, really. He considered her state of mind to be a mark of his craftsmanship, two and a half years in the making.

With the apartment empty, the Master went right to work looking through everything that had been lying about (and for things that were hidden), but there was nothing that piqued his interest. Even the kitchen had been a dreadful disappointment. Oh well. Lucy would be home soon enough. And if not her, the little girl. He could settle for either one, really. Patiently, he sat, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair, waiting for the ticking to stop.

Comments

[master-supreme.livejournal.com]

Ah, so that's where she drew the line. Although the punch didn't really hurt him (she was so frail, after all), the Master put a hand to his mouth and backed off a step. With a chuckle, he lowered his hand and grinned, then laughed some more.

"Role reversal! This City has taught you a lot." And then, just to show her how these sorts of things are done, he aimed a pretty rough, yet somehow dismissive (in a way that only he could really do) punch to her face, intending to add yet another bruise to her collection. He didn't look upset when he did it, or even happy and mocking. His expression had a rather "ho-hum" look to it, as though this were hardly worth his time.

[inbetrayal.livejournal.com]

The fist hits her, hard (she couldn't have stopped him if he tried, she's nowhere near that strong and the fact makes her burn-), throwing her head to the side and leaving a smarting mark (she knows it will darken to a bruise soon, oddly fresh among the faded ones) on her cheekbone.

She does not move, does not look at him (will not). Eyes closed, hair fallen over her face.

(the trembling has spread to her whole body; it is inhabiting her and she cannot evict it, not now, it is an entity within her. She wonders, as quick and vague such a thought is, if it would take a beat, follow the drums Harry says are within his head always. She wonders if this is fear or anger, and realizes that she does not know.)

She looks up, resists the urge to fight back (it would only cause more harm, she knows). Flattens her still-clenched hands out on her lap.

"Leave."

(And there is more conviction in her voice than she had thought she'd be capable of mustering, through the tremor still present.)

[master-supreme.livejournal.com]

"As you wish," he said, and somehow the words sounded cruel coming from his mouth. Complacently smiling, the Master shrugged and began to make his exit, taking his time in unlocking the door. He opened it, just a crack, then slammed it shut again and turned, leaning back against the varnished wood, staring up at the ceiling like a daydreaming kid. For a moment, he actually did look harmless (the boyish face of his present form had its perks), but it was short-lived.

"Before I go, there was something I meant to tell you. The reason why I stopped by." His gaze snapped down and he stared at her, eyes taking on a hungry, predatory look. "Just a bit of advice, really." And now, he wasn't smiling. His voice was harsh and softer; anything that was part of the Harold Saxon persona had fallen by the wayside. "Distance yourself from them; cut them off. For their good and yours. When something happens to your little friends, it will be on your head." And then his voice perked up a bit, brimming with false concern. "And I just don't know how much more that poor, shattered mind of yours can take, darling."

"Well." And with that, he stood up straight, grinned, and blew a kiss at the woman he once showed the end of the universe to. "Be seeing you, Lucy."

And he left, walking and walking until the ticking returned to him. Ah, the cacophonous symphony began again. He'd almost missed it.