Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own Doctor Who. Not in the slightest.
Author's Note: Yet another whim-fic by yours truly, and as always, a short one at that dohoho. In regards to characters, I like to try and dig around in their mind – granted I feel I've only successfully ever done that with one fighting game character, but the Doctor's mind, no matter the form, time period, or which Doctor, feels way too unique to leave unexplored, no matter how… small the exploration is o.o I just wanted to play around ._.
LAYERS
Nothing in this world is really set from point A to point B, in actuality there's usually a lot of layers involved, sort of like somebody who can't stand the cold and the amount of clothes they'd pile upon himself – or herself, and anywhere in between, for that matter, and some can come off but most have got to stay – and – weeeeeeeell - …maybe a big ball is a better description.
Okay, envision a big ball with thousands of lines intersecting at numerous points. Vertices lose their identity and points spill over to make themselves more important than they really should be, a little bit like the little human people who think that they're more important than they really are in the great big not-subjective, not-linear perspective of the world – of the universe, really - …and maybe the layers example was better for this situation.
Alright, think about Photoshop. You aspiring creative types all know about Photoshop, right? With the blue square logo like the TARDIS, the white 'p' and 's'? Ye – no? Yes? Some of you yes, some of you know? You humans can be so indecisive sometimes, at least I know I don't like pears. Okay let's go with Flash instead, some of the younger kids would know if it at least. Flash works in layers, if the person's trying to play God in a digital way, they would have an arm on one layer, a torso in another, the eyes on another and so on – all separate places to make the one, big walking, stick figure humanoid or creature… thing.
'Layer', from the Middle English times, referring to a single thickness of some material covering surface, or a person who lays things like tiles, or a hen who is kept to lay eggs, orrr an item of clothing worn under or over another – see, maybe the clothing example was best, then… Now take that very idea, that very concept of putting one thing over another and over that and so on, and then you have… me. The Doctor, Last Of The Time Lords, the Destroyer Of Worlds, the Oncoming Storm.
Titles and names are such useless things.
Now if every layer of clothing is a conscious mind, then there's ten layers to my mind. Ten so far. Ten different… types. Ten basic layers that constantly morph and grow in their own right – sometimes something is forgotten, but most of the time, it's adapted to, or altered just that little bit so that this… new me is still sort of like the older, cooler, trying-to-be-more-important-sort-of version of me. A few things are always taken to the next level of my consciousness, but when you cling to the rails and feel the world around you fade, surely one can't help but wonder what's on the next level.
Am I going to take my humour? My wit? My dislike of pears? Will I have this same accent, the same build and still lack ginger hair? How weird will my teeth feel this time? What's going to lie ahead? Will this new layer keep me warm at night, or alter me so vastly that I won't even recognise myself? A different pattern on the same old tile? Again?
Please say the unforgiving streak weakens in its strength. I want to be happy again. Happy and… harmless.
And then there's gold.