Fictions Mentioned:
Episode 20 - Of the Thoughts of Death
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Dies irae - Animation OST: Ewige Wiederkunft
A very little while and all will be over with you here, see then how matters stand with you; a man is here today, and tomorrow he is gone. And when he is taken out of your sight, he is quickly also out of mind. Oh, the dullness and hardness of man's heart, which only thinks of what is present, and looks not forward to thins to come.
You ought, in every action and thought, to regulate yourself as if you were to die immediately. If you had a good conscience you would not fear death. It were better for you to shun sin than to fly death. If you are not prepared today how will you be tomorrow? Tomorrow is an uncertain day; and how do you know that you will be alive tomorrow?
What profit is it to live long when we advance so little? Ah, a long life does not always make us better, but it often adds to our guilt. Would to God we had behaved well in this world even for one day! Many count the years of their conversion; but many times the fruit of amendment is but little.
If it is frightful to die, perhaps it is still more dangerous to live longer. Blessed is he that has always the hour of death before his eyes, and every day disposes himself to die. If you have any time seen a man die, reflect that you will not live till night. And when evening comes, presume not to promise yourself the next morning. Be, therefore, always prepared, and live in such a manner that death may never find you unprepared.
Many die suddenly and when they least think of it "Because at what hour you think not the Son of man will come" (Lk 12:40). When that last hour shall have come, you will begin to have quite other thoughts of your whole past life; and you will be exceedingly grieved that you have been so negligent and careless.
How happy and prudent is the man who strives to be now in this life what he desires to be found at his death. For it will give a man great confidence of dying happily, if he has a perfect contempt of the world, a fervent desire to advance in virtue, a love for discipline, the spirit of penance, a prompt obedience, self-denial, and patience in bearing all adversities for the love of Christ.
You may do many good things while you are well, but when you are sick I know not what you will be able to do. Few are improved by sickness: so also they who travel much abroad seldom become holy.
Trust not in your friends and relatives, nor put off the welfare of your soul to the future, for men will forget you sooner than you imagine. It is better now to provide in time, and some good before you, than to trust to the help of others after your death. If ,you are not solicitous for you hereafter?
The present time is very precious, "now is the acceptable time: now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor 6:2), But it is greatly to be lamented that you do not spend this time more profitably in which you may acquire wherewith to live forever. The time will come when you will wish for one day or at least one hour, to amend yourself; but I know not whether you will obtain it.
O my dearly beloved, from what great danger may you deliver yourself from what great danger may you deliver yourself from what great a fear may you be freed, if you would be always fearful and looking for death! Strive now so to live that in the hour of your death you may rather rejoice than fear.
Learn now to die to the world, that then you may begin to live with Christ. Learn now to despise all things, that then you may freely go to Christ. Chastise your body now by penance, that you may then have an assured confidence.
Ah fool! Why do you think to live long, when you are not sure of one day? How many souls have been deceived and unexpectedly snatched away!
How often have you heard it related that such a man was slain by the sword; another drowned; another falling from on high broke the neck; this man died at the table; that other came to his end while he was at play. Some have perished by fire, some by the sword, some by pestilence, some by robbers: and thus death is the end of all, and man's life passes suddenly like a shadow.
Who will remember you when you are dead and who will pray for you? Do now, beloved, do now all you can, because you know not when you will die; nor do you know what will happen to you after death. While you have time, heap to yourself riches that will never die! Think of nothing but your salvation, care for nothing but the things of God. Make now to yourself friends, by honouring the Saints of God, and imitating their actions, that when you fail in this life they "may receive you into everlasting dwellings" (Lk 16:9).
Keep yourself as a pilgrim and a stranger upon the earth, to whom the affairs of this world do not in the least belong. Keep your heart free and raised upwards to God, because you have "not here a lasting abode" (Heb 13:14). Send heavenward your daily prayers with sighs and tears, that after death your spirit may be worthy to pass happily to our Lord. Amen.
Chapter 23. The Imitation of Christ. By Thomas a Kempis.
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Dies irae ～Amantes amentes～ 主題歌 『Jubilus』
A spiritual classic among spiritual classical literature. A Christian devotional book first composed in Medieval Latin as De Imitatione Christi (c. 1418–1427). A piece of valuable literature that practically influenced and touched the lives of millions upon millions of people for generations to come. From the famous to the unknown.
Saint Thomas More, Chancellor of England and renowned humanist who was executed by King Henry VIII of England. Saint Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus. Erasmus of Rotterdam, a Dutch philosopher and Catholic theologian who is considered one of the greatest scholars of the northern Renaissance. American Catholic author and monk Thomas Merton. John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement. Major-General Charles George Gordon, a British Army officer and administrator. José Rizal, the Philippine polymath and national hero. Swami Vivekananda, the 19th-century Hindu philosopher and founder of Vedanta Society. Spiritual writer Eknath Easwaran. The Carmelite Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. The theologian Shailer Mathews. The Spanish crypto-Muslim writer known as the Young Man of Arévalo.
And so many countless others throughout the Known and Unknown Multiverse.
And thus, it was the one that the man known as the Doctor, the tenth face, the Tenth Doctor, the tenth hour of the day, delicately holding the small pocket book with his right hand, with his trademark reading glasses on, as he silently reads Chapter 23 of the Imitation, all the while pondering on the meanings behind it. The reflections that had been pondered by countless people, he brought to the fore of his mind of inner and outer complexity, all the while smiling sadly and happily in reminiscence of the fact that the closest thing that he truly had to a mother, Lady Michael, Leader and Princess of the Heavenly Host of the Angelus, had personally recommended one of these books just for him, all for his personal reflections to take for his own personal journey throughout his entire multi-millennial lives of many faces. With his left hand, he was gently holding onto the waist of a beautiful petite woman by the name of one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin - Lady Malleus Maleficarum - Number VIII of the Longinus Dreizehn Orden's Obsidian Round Table, who has her eyes close, with a simple smile of happiness, sadness, and contentment as she lies down on his shoulder.
A sun rises from the east, one of many that is in the infinite universe that they occupy, of one particular ship with the power and the refinement to travel anywhere and anywhen throughout space and time, and even into other universes and multiverses, of many different kinds, and even into realms beyond all human and mortal language and tongues. And this ship was only an outdated one. Not the most powerful of its kind. And yet, one could not say it was weak by any means.
For it may be the Type 40 — or, formally, the Type 40 time travel capsule — an outdated TARDIS by Time Lord ordinary and common standards, one which was the class of TARDIS to which the Doctor's TARDIS belonged, but it had experienced far more so than anyone of her kind. A ship that had been through just as much as the pilot who controls it.
They were simply silence. All as the winds breeze from the west, gently waving the clothes of both the Doctor and Rusalka. All as the aforementioned man and woman were sitting in a park bench.
There was just silence. There was just contentment. A picture of two individuals who had a deep historical connection to the past of myriads that stretch across untold eons of eternity, for through the mercurial curse of reoccurrence that these two had met, with one fully aware, with the other being ignorant as bliss.
For the saying "Ignorance is bliss" is something that one Rusalka Schwagerin had certain amount of mix feelings of sadness and depression, all in the subtlety of contentment as she forever ponders it until now of how the man that she is lying her head too, was the same man who had fought for her entire multiverse setting - the Masadaverse, and was the man who fought for everyone, both the great and the small, both the group and the individual. The man who fought for her. After all this time. In a time of eternity when he only carried the face of the seventh hour, the seventh face, the Seventh Doctor.
The witch could only remain sad from her interior, beneath all the exterior of her demeanor. All in realization of the fact that the man she had fallen in love with, the man to whom she was placing her head to her shoulders, was the same man who was now running out of time. For his death approaches. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not the other next day. Not the next week. Not the other next week. Not the next year. Not the next amount of years. Not the next century. Not the next amount of centuries. Not the millennia. Not the next amount of millennia. But it will come. Very soon. For at the day nor the hour, no one knows. Not even the Doctor. For only one life remains before the end. For he will regenerate sometime in the relative future. Turning from the Tenth Doctor to the Eleventh Doctor. The final incarnation. The thirteenth incarnation. The eleventh hour of the day. The eleventh face. Right before the clock strikes twelve.
This was a long time coming. One of relativity. For she knew that the Doctor would have to pass away eventually due to the fact that the Time Lords were no more, thereby as a consequence, rendering it impossible to remove the imposed limitation that is usually common to all Time Lords. The idea of twelve regenerations. An immortal species imposed mortality upon themselves in respect to the natural order and other areas of the rational order of enlightenment. An imposed law that could easily be taken away. But was now impossible to do so. For the Time Lords were no more. And with it, carried the accomplishments and secrets of regeneration along with them.
She knew. But she didn't think that she didn't have any more time.
The Doctor closes the small pocket book, placing it to his inner pockets from his brown Duster-type overcoat. He removes his reading glasses, also placing them to his inner pockets. He breathes a sigh. One that was heavy. One that was resigned. For as he contemplates the moments of time. On how it stretches through more than five hours at most as he looks to the sky, all with a firm determination on his face. Looking back to the silently, seemed to be sleeping Rusalka, all with a smile of sadness. Then looks back to the sky, all with a firm determination on his face.
Recalling his agreement to the witch who was seemingly sleeping beside his left shoulder, he could only remain the ever determined person of affinity for all life and wonders. For he is the Doctor. For that was his name. And his name was a promise. As death draws near and far, he could only breathe in and out with a heavy sigh, all as the winds that forever signal his determination and resolve which burns through his binary vascular system, all as the vast amounts of blood were still pumping from both hearts. Hearts full of kindness. Hearts full of compassion. Hearts full of mercy.
A feeling of eternal gratitude rest on the hearts of the Lord of Time. For a Lonely God such as himself felt the air of comfort and warmth that surrounds him. All as his hearts reignite for more sets of years of adventure. A form of gratitude to his old friend. To one Lord Karl Ernst Krafft - Lord Mercurius - Lord Suigin. For his old friend may be what you call as a troll in a sense of par excellence befitting to that of a Shakepearean playwright and conductor, and the very least, he had given him the opportunity to at the very least be with one of the closest women in his life. And for that, he remains forever grateful. All with a smile on his face.
A few hours of relativity pass by, and when Rusalka Schwagerin finally opened her eyes after what amounted to closing it for a very long six plus other countless hours of relativity, all the while the winds blow gently across her face and hair, she sees the Doctor smiling down on her.
The Doctor slightly move his face to the right, all with that smile of familiarity, one that was still so sad, one that has the Hammer of Witches both intrigue and saddened as she felt the weight of guilt raining down on her, likened to that of grey clouds that rain gentle rain, almost as if the very heavens were crying in tears. An act of subtle gesture which commences on the part of the Lord of Time, one that indicated to her if she would like to take a walk with him. One which let the witch smiled sadly and happily without saying a word, all as she made a nod of affirmation on her part.
Then the Doctor stood up, offering his left hand to her, to which she accepted most graciously with a smile, helping her to stand up from the park bench. And now was the right moment they started their walk back towards the main console. All ready and invigorated for a brand new adventure.
They were walking. Walking in remembrance and reminiscence. All as the wind blows gently which comforts their faces and waves their clothes to the direction it was pointed at. All while the sun shines brightly in a beautiful sunrise. All as scenes of the past were recalled to the both of them.
Recalling one time on the part of Rusalka Schwagerin. Of an innocent time of the past. On the days of her childhood. One that was free of sufferings. The most precious one to this day. The day she first met the man known as the Doctor. Back during the times of the seventh hour. Back when the the Doctor had the seventh face. The Seventh Doctor. The magic tricks. The simple lessons of complexity that he would impart to her. The wisdom of the world. The larger than life background of her own world and universe that is as far as the eye could see, all while comparing it to a canvas that was painted by an artist. A shade in the darkness as it were in wax poetic given form. The last one made her shake her head as the more she looked back at it, the more that she realized that the Doctor was giving her those subtle hints all for the future to come. All for the day when time would catch up to her. All when the Grand Guignol raised its curtains of grandeur. During the time of Dies Irae (Day of Wrath).
It was one that had her both happy and sad at the same time. For all the things of the innocent childhood when back to the fore. For she had never forgotten it. Not one single line. Not one day. Not one hour. Not one week. Not one year. Taking it with her to her adolescence and adulthood. Taking it during the time when she was to be wed, to which she fondly recalled on how the Doctor was the one to take her by the hand and lead her towards the altar of the church where her future husband to be wed and the priest was there waiting for her. Taking it with her during her descent to darkness, for as she was on the verdict of being a witch, so shall she be. And thus commences the slaughter of every single villager. One that was once her greatest triumph was now her greatest regret as she realizes that the Doctor was watching all of it with a saddened face. One that was smiling, but devoid of any happiness. Only guilt remained. Only sadness. One that she would always see whenever she sees him all those between the line moments from the bloody massacre of the village to her time of joining the L.D.O.
That smile. That sad smile that was always there. Even during the times when she tried to kill him and take him under her shadow. A time for subtle resentment and revenge. However, the Doctor wasn't afraid of her. He was just sad. A heavyweight he carried on his shoulders was made apparent to her. One that boggled her to no end. Irritation. Consternation. All due to the enigma that was the Doctor. For the Doctor was not conforming to the norm. The norm of heroes and villains. The norm of simple human fear.
That's not to say that the Doctor could not feel fear. Far from it. For he feels it all the time. And that's what made him so dangerous. For fear was a superpower. A fuel for ignition and determination. One that was made apparent for all the planning that he had made and conducted amidst the stage play. For the scripts blur between the lines. For important moments were subtly influenced by minor events. For she wasn't the only one that the Doctor subtly influenced.
The rest of the L.D.O. knew of him. For one reason or another. For one way or another. In a way, he made a subtle but no less major impact on the ways and paths that they all walked. For even in times of darkness, for even in times of seemingly endless bloodshed, there was no anger. Only sadness remained. Only guilt remained. One that forever remained with him for the rest of his life.
She recalls of many scenes that come for the past before the past. From the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth hours of the day. From those times and bygone eras of the man known as the Doctor. For all experiences came with it as the he gathers the strength to forever push forward in spite of being eternally separated from the people that he knew for so long, and yet would recall fondly as the winds of time settle in.
As they walked the paths, as the winds blow on their faces, memories of light and darkness, with shades of grey, all come back to her mind and heart, one that made her relish the simple hand to hand holding contact that she had. For this was her dream to ponder. Her very own life goal standing and walking right beside her. All with a smile that was just sad and broken to the core as the rains of subtlety and sobriety never stopped in its haste to bring drops of water upon the ground in order to till the soil as it were, for that was in the soul of alien complexity on the part of the Doctor. A Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey of the constellation of Kasterborous.
Scenes flash by. Scenes come by. The times of the seventh and the eighth hour. A time that seemed simple for most, including her, was an apparent starting point for the man who would eventually have to take the role of a Warrior in order to fight a War that is Against Death. The Last Great Time War. All while the right hour of in-between nature struck. From the planet Karn to the planet Gallifrey. All from the beginning to end in inconsistent fashion. As is expected of the war that took place. All when time and space was broken. All when fixed points did not mattered in the least. All when flux points where fair game. All when the laws were repealed and changed.
How can he carry on in spite of all that had happened? How can he still stand tall and face it all? How can he still smile in spite of it? What drives him? Why does he do what he does?
And as questions of a multitude of undecipherable answers come the dark and terrible revelations surrounding the man known as the Doctor. A man who seemed light and yet was far darker than appearances make him out to be.
She would only have to recall the present incarnation of the day. The tenth hour. The Tenth Doctor. All when once upon a time, Lord Karl Ernst Krafft allowed her to witness one particular scene and event that was taking place on the multiverse setting of the Doctor. On Whoniverse Prime N-Space Earth.
"Empress of the Racnoss, I give you one last chance. I can find you a planet. I can find you and your children a place in the universe to co-exist. Take that offer and end this now."
That was the Doctor speaking to the Empress of the Racnoss. A member of a dangerous cannibalistic species from the Old Dark Times. Why was she watching this part of the life of the man that she loved? Why was Lord Karl Krafft showing her this? It made her confused. Bewildered even. By the look on the Empress's spider-like face, she didn't even bothered to listen to the man's request for one last chance.
"These men are so funny," spoke one Empress of the Racnoss, amused at the offer, and yet would not even heed of it.
"What's your answer?," said the Doctor, as if indicating that this was her last chance to turn back from what she was doing before something terrible comes as just about expected when one crosses the line.
"Oh I'm afraid I have to decline," spoke the Empress, even laughing at the mere offer for mercy. And with that comes the most obvious mistake. One that made Rusalka raised her eyebrow in an unimpressed manner and a shaking on the head.
"Then what happens next is your own doing," spoke the Doctor, from a solemn tone, to an eerie tone of familiarity. One that Rusalka was all too familiar with. No matter what face. No matter what incarnation. No matter what hour.
"I'll show you what happens next," spoke the Empress, all as she begins to give orders to her roboform firing squad. "At arms! Take aim! And."
"Relax," the Doctor spoke simply, as if in a casual way of not needing to worry.
As expected, the roboforms slumped, not surprising the hidden spectators in the least, as Rusalka even sees Lord Karl Krafft even sporting an amused look on his face.
Why was she even being shown this? She already knew what was about to happen. Everyone who would see this particular scene would know of how this would end. The Racnoss either dies or get's sent to a fate worse than death. So why was she even being shown this? But then...
"No! No! Don't! No!," the Empress screamed in horror. All as she sees the Doctor throwing the baubles into the air and uses the remote to control them like remote-controlled bombs to blow holes in the tunnel. As a consequence, water from the Thames rushes in, swirling around the Empress and then reaching and travelling down the hole to the Earth's core, drowning the Racnoss eggs from within. "No! No! My children! No! My children! My children!"
All this as Rusalka watches in subtlety. All this as she watches from the shadows. To the ignorance of all. Including the Doctor, to who she would see something completely different concerning the darkness of familiarity that she had seen one to many times.
A desire to eternally die and never rise again. An eternal thought of suicide. All while he stoically — coldly, even — watches as the water pours in, flames rush up and the Empress screams in anguish for her children. A bleak moment came the realization of one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin. That the Doctor secretly wanted to die. He wanted to end it all. Right there. Right then. All as his darkness was unleashed for all to see. Subtle but no less ineffective in the gravity of its weight. One that had one Rusalka Schwagerin sport a horrified expression as she sees the man that she loved about to commit what was tantamount to a suicide by drowning.
"No, make it stop. Make it stop," she uttered as she sees all of this with her own green eyes.
He could have escaped at any time. But he chose not too. Not this time. He wanted to die there. Permanently. And it had one Rusalka Schwagerin scream from the top of her lungs, trying to bring her voice of horror and sorrow to the Doctor's ears, only for the Doctor to not hear of it, not hearing it because all of this was merely a projection, likened to that of seeing an episode on a television screen. What happened here had already happened. She was just watching a simple recap as it were. But that didn't make her any less terrified. For the only comfort that she truly had when witnessing the event was when the Doctor's future companion, Donna Noble, called out to him and urge him to stop now.
"Doctor! You can stop now!"
All of which brought the Doctor back from his stoic demeanor, replacing it with a face full of subtle horror. All as the whispering words of an alien voice from outside "DIE. DIE. DIE." were heard from the back of his complex mind. One that was no doubt heard by one Lord Karl Krafft, who became completely serious for the very first time in recognition of the whispering poisonous voice, likened to that of the slithering snake, a tempter par excellence that resounded in the complex mind of his old friend, urging him to die forever more and that all of the suffering that he had would lead him down a dark path of the abyss would be prevented. One that Rusalka had heard as she watches the scene before her. One that made her terrified to the core. For even now, those who follow the Crimson Monarch - the Scarlet King was still out to kill him for good, all in the order of a command of complete revenge and terrible vengeance, too terrible, too obsessive to even be worth describing face to face. For it was the voice of one slithering snake that was too terrible in its spoken fables of pleasure and delight. One deeply connected to the Garden of Eden. A fallen god by any other name. Lord Nahash. The once blessed protector of the Tree of Knowledge and kept eternal watch over its secret power, to one of the Crimson Monarch's most favorite attack dogs who bare his fangs on all who dare to strike him from the head, with the tenacity of pinpoint accuracy to aim the enemy at the heel. A reminder of the Protoevangelium - the First Gospel.
"I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel." (Genesis 3:15, Douay-Rheims)
Then there was moment that she recalled. A warning from the Mercury. One that she heeded as the riddles of the poetic gestures became known as the scenes reenact itself to the folding of probabilities and certainties.
"Heed thy spoken truths well, my dear Lady in Red, for by the tenth hour of the day, when my old friend of long ago had now ushered into a new age of vigor for the delights and prosperities of adventure, there will be a voice that is as poisonous as it is fierce, one that would follow him into the ever living present moments of temptation that is alas shrouded in the mystery of death. For the fate of my old friend must be pondered with utmost care, for as the nature of mistress time and life unfolds and defolds to the brim of the precipice, so too shall enemies of old would come in the subtleties of the common temptation of mere men. And my old friend will be the ever presentable target for their rage which nary not in waning gestures of subtlety. For temptations to vanity amidst victories may present the right moment of clarity in the precision of the endless arrows of deadly poison that would forever sully the promise of a name that is fairest and most true to behold. Victory at the price of being defeated through the sundering of time and life, and giving in to the embrace of mistress death through one's own hand; that is the temptation that which my old friend now suffers from the infernal desolation that quietly lingers even unto this day when peace is seemingly so from the outside world, but a shadow still remains, likened to that of shadows that were to be found in places where the sun's shining rays nay not grace with its light of hope and salvation."
A warning from the Mercury. From one Lord Karl Ernst Krafft concerning the tenth face, the Tenth Doctor, the tenth hour of the day.
One that made her hand trembled slightly in sadness and dread, all as she looks upon the man with a sadness that was subtle but no less present.
For as the hours of relativity draw by, passing through from the surroundings of the green grass breezing the wind; passing through the hallways that were once lively but were now almost totally abandoned, not in full use for a long time as the seemingly visible dust and little cobwebs from the side seem apparent to all, passing through a hallway that has the pictures of peoples, places, and things relating to Gallfrey, even recognizing a picture between the Doctor and his brother, Irving Braxiatel, a rather interesting man, she would thought as she recalls the one time she met him, or even recognizing a picture between the Doctor and his granddaughter, Susan Foreman, to whom she had the pleasurable encounter of knowing that one time; passing through their current destination which was the main console, one that had more golden brown with bright cyan highlights for colors on the console, with hexaginal shapes gracing the arching dome like walls. She did miss the old desktop theme that had the roundels in it though. A reminder of the ever changing nature of the TARDIS, just like the one who pilots her. The ever present, subtle and silent companion who remains a constant in the life of the Doctor.
Switches were flipped. Levers were turned. All in perfect tip top shape and order. All as the Doctor gently leads Rusalka by the hand, firm but no less gentle, one that made her cruel heart beat palpitatingly as she locks her gaze upon the man who was now sporting a more focused, determined, and professional expression as he operates the ship, to which the ship would respond as the coordinates that were sent its way were now locked on, now setting sail across the Space-Time Vortex, appearing as a few streams of colourful energy and space debris in the middle of a background of stars. All ready for the next adventure that would now occur. One that made one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin smile in happiness and sadness, with a firm resolve to always make the newly created memories count for every second.
For the Doctor deserved that much. And even when the adventure time is over, she will always make herself available whenever the man she loved had time to visit her once more. And she will be there, all with a genuine smile on her face, one that was special, one that was reserved for him and him alone.
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Dies irae - Animation OST: Cathedrale
Death. Death was everywhere. Something was amiss. Something was terribly wrong.
The randomizer function of the TARDIS had led both the Doctor and Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin into what seemed to be an abandoned city street of Paris, France, all in an entirely different universe according the scanners. One that is stench with the purity of death. One that is devoid of all known life. One that lies beneath one of the multiverse clusters of one multiverse setting - SCP Mythos Verse.
That is what they see from the screens of the main console. One that narrowed the eyes of both the Doctor and Rusalka, all as they see the endless ruins and the eerie silence. No sound. Not one sound whatsoever. There were no birds chirping. There were no lights flickering. There were many skeletons of decay lying around all over the place. There were the many countless ruins of many abandoned vehicles. There were no oceans left for they all dried up somehow. There was literally nothing left.
Even the scanners say the same thing. No visible life left in the entirety of existence. Not even a single microorganism. Nothing left in this mere cosmos that festers in nothing but unnatural decaying death. A visible entropic force that seemed too impersonal to be called a person; an alien shape or figure that could not be uttered in the languages of both humans and all mortals. This is what they face for this day. A day turned into darkness despite the sun that seemed to be present in the greyish clouds of the sky. An omen runs afoul which is felt by the two occupants that were on the TARDIS, all as their multi-dimensional senses of their own nature begin to kick in, realizing the scale of such gravity that plagues not only this universe, but possible others through a phenomenon or an anomaly that is subtle, but deadly in its effectiveness.
Something was amiss. Something was terribly wrong.
They did not say a word. They only had to look to each other. Nodding with grave expressions as they seemed to recognize the phenomenon that was present at the screens. For how could they possibly forget about this.
For something like this was as common in the Time War as like any other battlefield of unnatural commonality.
SCP-2935 - O, Death.
For both the Doctor and Rusalka, they have no need to worry about stepping out to this silent yet bleak universe without any form of harm on themselves. One where death seemed to be the norm around here. How poetic of a cruel irony which stares unto the face of the Doctor who had been contemplating upon his own death for quite sometime now. Due to being a Lord of Time, he is forever immune to the effects of the unnatural death that latches unto unsuspecting mortals for infection, likened to that of a parasite, for a being of rationality such as he would subtly conformed himself as the ever present shield of logic. For Rusalka, due to her profound connection to the Atziluth of one Lord Reinhard Tristan Eugen Heydrich - Lord Mephistopheles - Lord Ougon, which as a consequence, have given upgraded powers and abilities, a god-like control of magic and the fundamental principle of her own existence that defies death in the face of it all. No unnatural death could ever touch her again without said death dissipating into mere entropy. Nothing but a memory. A fleeting memory. One that is as fleeting as the winds that would soon end in the natural phenomenon of dispersion.
Both passengers were no less than prepared of course. For both would intend to step outside in order to inspect this universe as part of their ordinary job description as advisors of the SCP Foundation. But not yet for the current moment. They would need to dress up and prepare for such an occasion.
The trademark clothes of the Doctor. One that has a light brown Duster-type overcoat, a dark brown suit with blue pinstripes, a plain white shirt, a dark chestnut brown tie with subtle flora woven pattern on, and cream white Converse All Stars trainers for footwear.
The trademark clothes of Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin. An SS Warrant Officer uniform, with the symbol of the Longinus Dreizehn Orden (L.D.O.) attach to the right side of the uniform, accompanied with SS boots.
Firstly, the Doctor uses the TARDIS to scan the area for any traces of the originator behind this dreaded phenomenon. Scanners indicated the following location for the originator. A limestone cave beneath a cemetery near Joppa, Indiana. One that had an anomalous riff that was still present.
Yep, definitely SCP-2935, he thought grimly in recognition, having the displeasure of facing this phenomenon more amount of times during the War.
He begins to punch the coordinates, flipping the levers and switches, all as the TARDIS automatically dematerialized from Paris, France and materialized towards the aforementioned cemetery. He would begin to flip the levers and switches once more, targeting the designated anomaly, sealing the rift connecting this universe with the other universe that might be next on an endless reoccurrence of bringing the dreaded inconsistent phenomenon of O, Death. He would also scan the source of the rift and find the designated universes that have similar riffs such as this one, and seal all of them shut as well. He would also begin to punch a few calculations in the TARDIS, projecting a series of lock fields that would now be erected across this and any other scanned universe that has been affected by this plague of unnatural degree, all in order to prevent anything from ever escaping. He would also begin to make contact with any nearby SCP Foundation Sites from other nearby unaffected universes, sending a coded message via IDST cellphone that is readable only to the Site Directors and no one else. This was the following coded message:
"Containment Class: Keter. Disruption Class: Amida. Risk Class: Caution. As Chief Scientific Advisor, I highly advised that those with an affinity and immunity for death would be sent in to contain this situation. I've already provided the list of all of the universes that are affected in this multiverse cluster, ones that I've locked away with the TARDIS through certain computations that would be received on your end for convenient accessibility. I and my associate, Ms. Rusalka Schwagerin, would continue to investigate further from our own end while you lot get to work with the clean up."
And with that, a list of every universe affected by this inconsistent plague was sent along with the coded message. And the coded message was eventually received by all of the Site Directors, to which they immediately responded by putting on the red alert and follow the Doctor's instructions.
Next, the Doctor begins to punch another set of coordinates, flipping the levers and switches, all as the TARDIS automatically dematerialized from the cemetery and materialized inside a corridor of an abandoned SCP Foundation Site 81. He and Rusalka begin to step outside, all as they see the abandoned corridors of the once more than likely vibrant facility. Now, it was no more than a literal ghost town. All cause by none other than O, Death.
Both the Doctor and Rusalka stuck together side by side, all the while as they look from left to right, seeing many of the dead remains of the staff and the SCPs scattered everywhere throughout the surroundings. Everywhere they go, there was always a dead body to be found. To mention all of them would be futile as the numbers are quite numerous enough. One that had the Doctor entering into a quiet, subtle rage which is just a flickering flame for the best part.
A broadcast was heard from somewhere around the corridors. All in an endless reoccurring loop.
This is an automated emergency broadcast from the SCP Foundation and your national government. One or more of our sites is experiencing a communication breakdown, likely due to a containment breach of unknown magnitude. All citizens are ordered to stay in their homes as containment teams work to secure the breach. This message will broadcast from April 20th, 2016 until— (message cuts out suddenly and then repeats)
As they walked around, they head towards the security control room, one that had more than a few hundred interior and exterior security cameras at most at the controls. The Doctor begins to operate the controls, rewinding the state of the cameras to the last recorded incident surrounding the dreaded phenomenon.
He sees the footage. It shows the exact moment during which the SCP-2935 event took place. At exactly 0313 hours EST, footage shows all members of site staff on camera, all SCP's under containment, as well as all surrounding flora and fauna outside of Site-81, suddenly dying. No other phenomena are evident on this footage. It was one that had the Doctor and Rusalka narrow their eyes in grave undertones.
"Let's go," the Doctor said simply, with Rusalka immediately complying, as they both went out of the security control room.
They continued walking through the abandoned hallways of the facility. As they were traversing one part of the facility, immediately drawing near towards one significant containment cell. One that had Rusalka put her left hand and slightly pulls the Doctor's brown coat, in a effort to get him to stop, all because she senses something significant from the cell that was near to them. The Doctor stops from his walk, looking towards Rusalka who was pointing towards the containment cell in a simple pointing gesture. The Doctor, narrowing his eyes, unlocks the cell with the sonic screwdriver, and as the containment cell is opened, they were immediately greeted with a significant skeletal remains of a Mobile Task Force (MTF) agent.
The Doctor and Rusalka both begin to draw near, inspecting upon the remains of the body of an MTF soldier. They spotted a bullet wound on the head, from the left going to the right in the penetration of the bullet, indicating the use of the left hand to pull the trigger of the gun that was present in the left skeletal hand of the remains. They spot a logo on the arms of the remains. One that belonged to Mobile Task Force: Epsilon-13 "Manifest Destiny". They spot the dog tags that the body was carrying. A last time was written: "Keller".
"Agent Keller," muttered the Doctor, sporting a saddened expression, in recognition of the name as he knew of him; a very long time ago in fact.
"You knew him," asked Rusalka, looking towards him in concern, recognizing the familiar tone.
"(Sigh). Long time ago," the Doctor simply said, not wanting to elaborate further, only sporting a disheartened look on his face, one that made Rusalka concerned, all as he inspects the remains of the body, finding an advanced cellphone, standard among the SCP Foundation's Mobile Task Forces (MTFs). He stands up and turns on the cellphone, looking for any information available, including the last known details. As he sifts through the phone, he immediately notices an audio file, one that denotes the very last time that he last spoke on record.
The Doctor puts the cellphone on speaker mode, pressing the audio record to play, and with that, he and Rusalka would begin to listen in as the voice of one deceased agent speaks his last words on record.
(static)
Alright, here we are. My name is… you know, (laughs) it doesn't really matter. I'm on… was… on staff at 81. If you're hearing this, then you've probably got some idea what the deal is here, so I don't need to explain the Foundation to you. But this, everything else…
I mean, it's pretty self-evident, isn't it? Fuck me… as of my recording this, it is… 2136 hours, EST… on April 26th. I've managed to get back into 81, even with this lockdown bullshit that got triggered, and… I guess this is it.
I wish I had an explanation. I… if I didn't still bleed, I would think I was dreaming. I've had dreams that I was dreaming, but I wake up and I'm still here. Still here… alone… and everyone is gone.
They sent me to check this signal they had picked up near Joppa, just off of 70. Quick little exploratory mission, I was the closest. I pop in there and find this… cave… and on the other side is the world I just left, but—
But it's this one. This is the world I ended up in. The grass, the birds, things dropping out of the skies and dark things floating in the water. People everywhere, lying where they stood. And the silence, god the silence. Not even… not even birds, or— or bugs… just wind, and nothing else.
I came back to report on what I had seen, and…
I don't have any answers. I don't think there are any. I don't even have the right words to say. This world is different from the one I saw in the cave. People are moved around, the date is different, things are different… because it's my world! This is the one I left! This is— my family is here, and my friends, but now…
It's all gone. Everything is dead. There's no evil magic, there's no supernatural stars, there's no futuristic ray gun or false vacuum device or… nothing. None of those things mattered. Nothing we did mattered. It's all gone.
Something… something must have been in that cave… something must have followed me out of there. Needed me to go in there. Needed me to bring it out. Let it loose. Let it do to my world what it did to… to that…
Maybe it's me. Maybe I was the reason. Maybe I… am Death. If it was in there and I brought it back, then I am Death.
I've got myself… in a containment cell. Jammed the goddamned door shut. I'm going to put a bullet between my eyes. Everyone else is dead. What's one more?
You know, it occurs to me… if you're listening to this…
You're Death, too.
P.S.
Doctor. If at the slightest possible chance you could hear this, I'm sorry that things turn out this way.
(static)
There was simply silence after the recording. A silence that denotes a heavy atmosphere of bleak sadness that accompanies the environment that the two known currently alive individuals were standing on.
"(Sigh). I'm sorry too, old friend," the Doctor sighed, all in deep regret.
Insert Song: End
Insert Song: Start
Dies irae - Animation OST: disce libens
There was just silence. A respectful silence. A silence that was no less sober as it was bleak.
Rusalka Schwagerin was standing by in silence. All while as she silently watches the Doctor who was busy with an advance shovel in order to give his old friend a proper burial, all while sporting an expression of obvious grief and determination to see everything through. For they were currently somewhere at Southeast Louisiana Veterans Cemetery, one of five state-run veterans cemeteries operated by the Louisiana Department of Veterans Affairs. The cemetery, which opened in 2014, is situated on 75 acres and is a final resting place of honor for Louisiana veterans, their spouses and their dependent children. More than 2,000 veterans, spouses and children are interred at the cemetery.
After the Doctor reported the confirmed casualty of one Agent Keller to the SCP Foundation Site Directors from other unaffected universes via IDST cellphone, he begins to punch the coordinates from the TARDIS and materialized in this cemetery, with a prepared casket and an advance shovel for the proper burial of his old friend, to which after said burial would have the intention to begin to report once again to the Site Directors on the current burial ground for one Agent Keller in order for any possible others connected to him one way or another to form possible visits when this plague of inconsistency was firmly dealt with.
In the meantime, Rusalka Schwagerin was just silent, simply observing the man in concern, seeing as he is obviously grieving from the inside, buried deep beneath that stoic exterior. He was always the type of person to keep his issues and emotions in check, not wanting to bother anyone about it, always wanting to take care of the problem by himself if possible without needing to ask for the help of others.
Now why does that sound so eerily familiar?, she thought to herself with a sad smile, truly, like father like son indeed.
She thought of that in reference to one who was once her enemy of the past but is now her ally all things considered especially after literally everything that has happened.
Lord Ren Fuji - Lord Tenma Yato - Lord Setsuna - Also Sprach Zarathustra Übermensch.
Really, she thought to herself with an exasperated smile that was no less sad, recalling of a time during the time of the Grand Guignol, back during the times when she had what you may consider to be a firm but subtle hatred, jealously, and other complicated feelings towards one Ren Fuji, or as he was usually called by her, Zarathustra. Not just because of the fact that he was basically considered as the substitute of one Lord Karl Ernst Krafft. Not just because of the fact that he had a very eerily close resemblance to Lotus Reichhart, to whom she had somewhat of a crush and unresolved feelings as it were. It was because of the fact that he was the second son of the man who she once thought completely abandoned her to her fate. The same man who she considered very close to her heart. The same man who was once always there to bring her joy and happiness since the days of childhood, was now suddenly replaced by one Ren Fuji.
It just wasn't fair. What did he had that I don't? Why was I replaced by no more than a mere replacement? No even worst than that, the mere replacement even came from the one that she had loathed and hated more than anyone which was Lord Karl Ernst Kraftt. That was what she thought back then as far as she recalled. One that had feelings of anger, jealousy, regret, and other negative vibrations come to the fore.
Why?! Why?! Why?!
She recalled all this with feelings of regret. All to the point of even considering her past self such an idiot if she even thought that the Doctor abandoned her for one second. He didn't. He tried. He tried so very hard. Living all those countless cycles of eternity out of nothing but an Eternal Mercurial Recurrence (Die Omega Ewigkeit). The idea of the world endlessly repeating, so that there is nothing new under the sun. Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.
Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Despite her immaturity, he still treated her well with a smile. Despite her jealousy, he still treated her with a smile. Despite her lack of hesitation in killing people, even finding pleasure in it, reveling in it like a form of drug addiction that couldn't be erased all of a sudden, he still treated her with a smile.
Why? Why? Why?
Why was he always smiling that smile? That smile that was just happy to see her, and yet was sad and burdened by the immensity of guilt. Why was he always so kind to her? What did she do to deserve that smile?
Her heart broke at the moments of inner recall. Despite the curses, the lashes, the complaints, he simply just listened silently with a smile. Why? Why does he have to be this kind especially considering the fact he had been reliving every moment of every form of insignificant tantrum as if it were only yesterday? He was simply listening. He never spoke a word. He only smiled. Sad but firm. Guilty but determined. All as he lived while the world eternally looped in accordance with the Law of the Mercurial Snake.
Surely he should've been sick with her by now? Surely he shouldn't even be this kind to her considering that all of the negative vibrations hurled against him were already things that he had already seen first hand one to many myriad times? Why? Why does he still keep being kind to me?
Her heart aches. She wanted nothing more than to atone especially after finding out on everything that he had done for her. On how he was simply there from the sidelines, taking care of any needless sufferings more than necessary. The truth of the matter was that he never abandoned her. He never left her. He was simply watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike back with all the resolve that he had pent up inside his twofold hearts. A resolve that had been burning bright amidst such sufferings that lasted for an eternity.
The real hero of Dies Irae (Day of Wrath). The unrecognized hero of the story. The background minor character who seemingly never added much to anything was actually the true main character of the story. Ren Fuji may have done the deed but it was the Doctor who guided him along the way through the use of subtle planning and tactics that he had developed through the countless eons of looping.
He was the unknown hero that no one really knew. And the same unknown hero didn't even want to be recognize for his efforts. He only just smiles in satisfaction and goes on his merry way, all with the sadness and determination still rooted in his twofold hearts.
All of this made her heart ache.
Why? Why was she so very cruel to him? Why was she cruel to the person who had finally put an end to the insanity that had brewed upon her multiverse setting for so very long?
She really wanted to punch her past self to a bloody pulp for this. Paradoxes be damned.
She recalls all this as the Doctor finally manages to properly burry his old friend. Afterwards, he erected a simple white cross and place it on the ground, all with the name of the person who was buried that was etched onto the cross. And afterwards, he simply uttered a prayer for the dead, all the while joining his hands in prayer.
"Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen. (Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace, Amen.)"
Afterwards, he simply stood in silence, all with hands in his pockets, like the ever present sentinel who watches with care, all as he silently recalled the many fond memories that he had with the buried agent.
For now, they were back in the TARDIS, all as it sets said throughout the Time Vortex, which has by now sported the appearance of a blue vortex, all as it left the dead universe. The authorities of the SCP Foundation would be the ones who would handle the needed clean up involving the inconsistent phenomenon of SCP-2935 - O, Death.
The Doctor was just silent, sporting a focused and determined expression, soberly working on the main console, flipping the switches and levers here and there in a professional mode of fashion, all the while as Rusalka watches in worry and in silence.
He's been like this ever since we found the dead body of Agent Keller, she thought with concern.
There was just silence. Simply silence.
And as the Doctor presses the final lever in order for the TARDIS to head towards its next destination, he begins to sigh heavily, working on his breathing in and out, then turning towards Rusalka, who he notices was sporting a concerned expression. One that was directed towards him no doubt.
He slightly looked down, pondering as to what to say regarding what had happened, not liking the fact that he was making Rusalka worry for him. Then after a few more relative seconds, he spoke, all in a tone of sadness and regret, coupled with nostalgia and reminiscence.
"Agent Joseph Keller. That was the name of the man that I most recently buried. Before he was part of Epsilon-13 "Manifest Destiny", he was a junior agent when I first met him, all the way back in my ninth incarnation, back when I was called in to deal with some left over Daleks that were wreaking havoc across his universe at the time," the Doctor could only sport a deriding smile directed on himself, snorting while doing so. "Fat load how that did looking back at it, when his universe eventually succumbed to O, Death. Like what my old friend said on the audio feed, it wasn't evil magic, supernatural stars, futuristic ray guns, false vacuum devices, or anything of the sort. It was just death. That was it. Simple as that," he begins to look from the west, sporting a distant look of subtle grief. "Despite all that I've done, there are some things that I just can't truly undone nor can I truly save. This is one of them. I mean," he begins to sport a deriding expression upon himself once more. "I could travel back and prevent all of that from happening, but I can't," he shakes his head. "I just can't. Not because of any fixed points or whatever mind you, but because of the nature of O, Death being a virus that could spread to other universes if one is not truly careful of handling it. My interference in the timeline would likely set off a chain reaction that would cause multiple rifts to be created, dragging other peoples from other universes into the now dead universe, thereby spreading the infection even more. I should know, because I've seen happen," he begins to point to his head and touch it as if with emphasis. "Up here. All of which end in complete death of entire civilizations and species no matter what I do. Its always been that way," he sported a grimaced expression, all as he leans at the main console, looking down in sadness. "No matter how many times I've save people. No matter how many times I've prevented disasters. No matter how much time and experience that I've gain. Its always the same in the end. That no matter what I do, there are some people that I could never truly save. Agent Joseph Keller and Captain Adelaide Brooke being two of many at this point. No matter how much I would like to say that everybody lives."
Rusalka Schwagerin could only look on in sadness and understanding, deeply recalling one constant in the life of the man that she loved. That no matter how many times and experiences that he had gained, there was always someone who dies in the end. That seemed to be a major constant at this point. People die eventually. There's no denying it. But...
She shakes her head, all in reminder of the past of myriad loops that never seem to be forgotten in the case of the Doctor. For even while almost everyone from her multiverse setting had finally moved on from the Eternal Mercurial Recurrence (Die Omega Ewigkeit), the Doctor couldn't really get over such a thing, having it always as a firm reminder of what had happened for most of the time. It was sad. It was hurtful. It was painful to see him this way whenever she sees it.
That subtle defeat. That helplessness. That desire to save but could not be able to do so sometimes.
He of all people knows that saving everyone is impossible. Not in the real world. Not when there is always the possibility of death. And yet, he still keeps trying in the end.
He's lost people. He's lost a lot. And people wondered how he still tried to keep going and push on, never stopping for one single second, not staying for too long as he should. Always the Eternal Wanderer. Always the Lonely God. A very sad life. One that was sad in spite of such profound connections that he had made throughout space and time in order to balance each other beneath the scales of divine predilection. A consequence of one who always travels through time and space. For time can be relative to the Doctor, likened to that of sand that seemingly slips away in due time. Like in her case for example, considering the fact that its been several millennial cycles since he last saw her. For her, it seemed like only a few weeks at most.
That was just sad. Something that Rusalka knew to herself a long time ago considering that she had seen it one to many times. All this as she draws near towards him, with both hands reaching towards the Doctor's cheeks, making him turn his attention to her.
"You still have me though," Rusalka gently caresses the Doctor's cheeks, all with a smile on her face. "Me, your sons, and everyone else that you saved in the end. So don't let this get you down. I and everyone else would always be here in case you need us. So chin up and keep your head high because the more people you think you'd fail to save, I'd tell you that you just save so much more people in spite of it. I'd only have to mention the multiverse that I came from. The one you stuck around for god knows how long. People like me are really grateful for what you've done back then you know. People like Babylon, Valkyrie, and many others could attest to that. And yes, even people like Christof despite not wanting to admit it."
"Hmm," the Doctor softly laughed, honestly thinking how utterly hilarious and glorious of an image would a grateful Valerian Trifa look like. "Valerian, grateful? Now there's a sight that I'd love to see face to face from time to time."
"Hmhmhmhmhm," both the Doctor and Rusalka softly laughed wholeheartedly, both agreeing wholeheartedly as they both seem to have a common affinity of messing and pranking with Lord Valerian Trifa - Lord Christof Lohengrin - Divine Vessel - Number III of the Longinus Dreizehn Orden's Obsidian Round Table.
"Thank you, Anna," the Doctor spoke in a grateful tone, all with a genuine simple smile.
Rusalka simply smiled, caressing the cheeks of the man that she loved, speaking in a tone of approval. "See, there's that smile that would fit you well. One without any guilt attach to it. You should try smiling that smile sometimes."
The Doctor begins to hold both of Rusalka's hand in a gentle manner. "Ich würde versuchen, meine Dame (I would try, my Lady)," before joining both of her hands and gently kissed it in the attitude of a gentleman, one that made Rusalka smiled and her heart fluttered. "Hoffentlich (I hope so)," she muttered softly.
"Now then," the Doctor takes her by the hand. "Considering the rather dreadful bleakness that we had to go through, I thought of picking a destination where things were a little more heartwarming and comedic in nature this time around. That and its been a while since I've visited them so this could be good for the both of us."
"Oh," Rusalka raised an eyebrow, wondering as to what place and people are they going to visit this time. "And who are they, if I may asked?"
The Doctor smiled. "Well, you and many others would know of them by now of course, Anna, considering that they are one of the well known prime time economic teachers of TARDIS School. Ones that came from a world that is still in its medieval Europe days. A Spice and Wolf to put it simply."
Rusalka slightly raised her eyes in recognition. "Oh, that traveling merchant and that wolf deity."
"Of course," the Doctor nodded with a smile.
Insert Song: End
Insert Song: Start
Space Junk Galaxy - Super Mario Galaxy
Vworp Vworp Vworp
The TARDIS begins to materialize into what appears to be a forest, with a very clear area of wide open space, all as the grass of the plain waves at the winds that would grace its arrival. And as for the surrounding area, there was a simple medieval house and bathhouse that was located nearby. It was one that made the sharp twitching ears of one wise wolf, a young woman who was carrying a basket full of carrots that were most recently plucked from the garden.
The young woman - Holo - slightly touching her waving long flaxen-colored hair, with her wheat brown, off-white tail wagging in subtle excitement, all the while smiling with recognition, recognizing the simple wheezing sound of hope that makes the winds of the world draw its breath, with the winds breezing through her plain white dress. Her red eyes could see the TARDIS materialized in a perfect concord of sounds likened to that of a wind pipe.
She watches with a smile as the TARDIS finally completed its materialization, and with that comes the calming of the wind. A door was heard to open. She spots the Doctor walking outside, accompanied by a woman who was most familiar to her, having seen her one to many times as fellow teachers of TARDIS School.
The Doctor smiles as he looks towards her, hands in his pockets, walking towards her, with him simply saying. "Hello, Holo."
"Hello to you as well, my Lord Doctor," Holo said with a smile, then looking towards Rusalka. "And to you as well, my Lady Malleus. I see that you've been accompanying this bloke if I were to take a guess of you being the only one who exited the TARDIS."
Rusalka smirked, all as she slightly grabs the Doctor by the shoulder and leaned on it. "Oh, you might have to thank Karl Krafft for that one considering that he's the one who assigned me to keep an eye on this idiot for the time being."
"Ah, Lord Suigin," Holo spoke with reverence, with eyes widened in recognition, with her ears twitching in fear and reverence, immediately recognizing the name of the Hegemony God, fellow senior teacher, and well respected individual among the gods. A playwright par excellence. The One who wields the Law of Eternal Mercurial Recurrence. A god unlike any other. One that surpasses Holo by more than so much more in terms of rank among the gods. For Holo herself was no more than a simple wolf harvest deity, a much lower rank in the totem pole, although she really prefers not to be called a deity as such, really abhorring such worship and fear that would be due to her.
"Yes, him,' the Doctor exasperatedly confirmed, not likely to forgetting the Shakespearean playwright for his current predicament as of this present moment. He begins to notice the basket that was in Holo's hands. "Speaking of which, do I see carrots over there, Holo?"
"Ah yes," Holo smiled, showing the basket to the Doctor. A basket which contains carrots that were recently pruned out of the rich soil of the garden. "I've recently came back from the garden and plucked these rather fine carrots in order for me and my husband to have our second meal for the day."
"Well, if that's the case, then you wouldn't mind if I help you with regards to the meal," said the Doctor, sporting an eager puppy eyed look, being rather excited on making carrot stew through the preferred natural methods of medieval times.
"Oh, don't even bother to jest with that look, my Lord Doctor, for you and Lady Malleus are our guests for the time being, and as a consequence, I and my husband would need to treat you just like any other customer. Perhaps, a bathhouse would prove to be worth you're and Lady Malleus's time." said Holo, sporting a mischievous expression, all with her wheat brown, off-white tail waving in subtle mirth and humor.
"Ah, well..." the Doctor begins to subtly blush, recognizing his old friend's tone of mischievous humor from anywhere, trying to speak now in order to prevent on what would no doubt be an obvious consequence and outcome that need not be mentioned.
However...
"I and Lord Doctor would be quite delighted too," smirked Rusalka, silently thanking the wise wolf for granting her the opportunity to be alone with the man that she loved, with the bonus being able to bathe in the boiling waters of the bathhouse.
"What?!," the Doctor spoke, with widened eyes in shock, turning towards Rusalka.
"Splendid, I'll prepare the waters after I put these on the table," spoke Holo, smirking in mirth as she begins to walk a few steps towards the house that was nearby.
"What?!," the Doctor spoke again, with widened eyes in shock, turning towards Holo. He looks back again towards Rusalka, sporting a smirk of pleasure that seem to send mix signals of red alert ringing beneath his complex mind.
"Isn't it nice of her, my Lord Doctor? Now we get to be all by ourselves while we wait for the meal. The best part is that we get to take a bath together in the steaming waters. I so do love a good bathe for my delicate white skin, don't you?," Rusalka still sported that smirked expression of pleasure.
Why do I have a bad feeling about this?, the Doctor sweatdropped in thought, all while gulping from his throat, not liking the possibilities that are now crawling beneath his mind. For alas is the nature of a Time Lord. One could see everything there is, was, or can be. Literally. Even the more private manners that need not be addressed.
It was very awkward to say the least. Least of all for the Time Lord known as the Doctor.
On the plus side, there's the fact that he get's to enjoy a nice warm bath just as advertised. He always did love the bathhouse every now and then. And this bathhouse. along with some other bathhouses in other locations besides this was built with a lot of struggle and hard work on the part of his two old friends, along with a little help from himself of course, all for the purpose of when TARDIS School sometimes stops by the World of Spice and Wolf in order to get the needed bathing of the skin and the enjoyment of the steam. Memories of the past would instantly be recalled as a reminder of this. One that made him smile with simple happiness and reminiscence. Naturally, he was the one who ultimately had to pay for his student's expenses in compensation, to which he was more than happy to provide of course as he has more money than entire banks as far as his TARDIS is concerned.
"Hmhmhmhmhmhm," hummed Rusalka, seemingly in a happy mood, all as she washes her hair in a delicate manner of pleasure.
The awkward problem however lay in the fact that one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin, taking the same bath as him, all while in her birthday suit no less, all while being near to him as she was sitting between his legs, taking the waters with a smile, with humming sounds that came along with it. One that has the Doctor shake his head in exasperation, but unsurprised at this very point considering the cliché timing of it that he had seen from a mile a way.
Still, that didn't made this any less awkward.
Nevertheless, the Doctor just smiled with the usual mixture of happiness and sadness. Yes, the same smile of guilt was still there lingering through whenever it concerns Rusalka. He'd figure that this really wasn't so bad so long as she was happy in the end.
"Hehehehe," Rusalka laughed in a genuine up-beat tone, all while turning towards the Doctor. "Say, my Lord Doctor...," but... she couldn't continue her happy up-beat tone for much longer due to seeing that smile once again, despite how seemingly subtle it was. It was honestly getting to be a pain to deal with. Honestly, why can't he simply just enjoy and let loose his shoulders for once in his life?, she thought sadly. "My Lord Doctor, if I didn't know any better, I'd feel as if you did not care for the fact that you have a naked woman in your presence." she said with a sad pouting smile, all as she gently touches his chest with her own delicate hands.
The Doctor just shook his head. "Its not that really. As long as your happy with this, I'm just content to enjoy myself in the boiling waters. No need to fuss over something as simple as this like some random anime cliché or what not have you," Plus, this wasn't really the first time I experienced something like this, but I'd rather not say this out loud in fear of accidentally setting off a fuse and getting Anna to obliterate me to ashes due to jealousy, the Doctor thought with subtle caution in his twofold hearts. He'd rather not die too early due to slapstick humor. One that would definitely have one Lord Karl Ernst Krafft laughing in mirth, composing such demise via his iconic wax poetic given form.
Oh, he could just hear it all right now for this very moment.
"Fare thee well, my old friend of the eternal recurrence, for your profound opera that I highly recommended and watch with interest among the gods was alas seemingly cut short oh so suddenly by a fair maiden of war adorned in red who had unfortunately heard of your many delicate exploits of encounter through the common gift of women throughout the ever present eons. For tis truly a folly of the heart for a woman to hear of something concerning her man all the same, all with due consequences that is given unto its due."
How dramatically cliché of him, he thought exasperatedly.
"Speaking of which," he said as he looked through the large bathhouse, with plenty of mists produced by the steam. "This place hasn't really changed one bit since the last time I was here."
"I thought so too," Rusalka smiled in turn, looking around as well, reminded of the last time she came here with a couple of her female L.D.O. Members. "I also recalled on how I, Babylon, Valkyrie, Samiel, Leonheart, and Sonnenkind last came here in order to take in to the waters as it were."
"Wait, Eleonore came with all of you?," the Doctor said, all the while wincing in sympathy due to the fact that the water must have boiled a lot more than intended especially when it comes to the Lady of Battle and War such as her. "That's very surprising as I don't really peg her for the resting type when it comes to her duties towards Reinhard in particular."
"Oh, actually my Lord Doctor, it was Lord Heydrich himself who ordered her to come with us, otherwise she would have normally refused all the same, deeming it not worth her time of day," Rusalka clarified, with a tone that was full of humor and mirth as indicated by that near perfect lady like smirk adorning her face.
"Of course," the Doctor simply said in acceptance, all with a smile which then turns to concern. "Still, that could only have meant on how hot it must have been when she decided to enter the waters."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Rusalka sported an exasperated look, recalling that one time when the waters all seemingly dried up because of her, which led to her and the other female members complaining about it to no end. Then she begins tracing her fingers through the Doctor bare chest with inner delight, all while the Doctor was simply raising his eyebrows in unimpressed humor and demeanor, already used to this type of tactic when it concerns Rusalka. "Nevertheless, you would think that you would have taken the opportunity to have me at this point, especially as I am quite vulnerable to attack as it is," she pouted with mocking disappointment and humor.
"That's because I'm a Time Lord, Anna. Gallfreyans such as myself really couldn't care less about the kind of things humans and other species get together on their unmentionables, much less when it concerns hormones in general," the Doctor spoke in a matter of fact tone.
"(Sigh). When you say it like that, my Lord Doctor, I would think that you would have no interest in me as a woman at all," she pouted in disappointment.
"Of course that's not what I meant," the Doctor shook his head in denial. "Its just me simply stating on how Gallifreyans don't really care much for the indulgence of sexual pleasures of any sort for most of the time as we tend to be less motivated with regards to it considering our rather asexual nature."
"Once again, when you say it like that, my Lord Doctor, that sounded completely boring and just so sad when looked at in hindsight," Rusalka continued to pout with disappointment, despite already knowing how stuck up the Time Lords usually are, being a tad above almost everybody else in terms of life and technology. Being one of the most advance races that belong to the category of a Type VI Kardashev Level Civilization does have its uniquely earned privileges after all.
"Of course, that doesn't mean that we don't appreciate the subject. Its just that such things are little more than trivial at this point when there were at least countless numbers of us back in the day," as the Doctor said the last part, there was a subtle tone of grief that was present in his voice. One that was not really surprising towards Rusalka as she of all people knows how sensitive the Doctor is when it comes to talking about his now extinct race.
"(Sigh)," Rusalka sighed, all as she begins to suddenly kissed the Doctor on the left cheek, much to the Doctor's surprise. "There. Feel better now," she said with a no-nonsensical tone, denoting love and care, all while embracing him as if to tell him that she's here for him.
The Doctor touches his left cheek with his left hand, muttering softly. "Yep," all while thinking that maybe this wasn't really so bad after all.
After the bathing which they found to be quite satisfying and enjoyable, they eventually stepped out of the bathhouse after what amounts to more than three hours at most, heading towards the medieval residence in order to finally check to see if their meal was still on the table.
"Ah, Lord Doctor, Lady Malleus, you have arrived at last," spoke Holo in a tone of knowing mirth and humor. "I was beginning to think on whether or not you would show for the hour of the meal as it would appear that you two were quite busy for a while as it seems."
Rusalka smirked while the Doctor simply shook his head in exasperation. The Doctor turns to look at one Lawrence Krafft who was sitting near the table, reading a book that was very out of place, almost as if in anachronism of history itself, due to the fact that the book in question was quite ahead of the times when it comes to this world in particular. A classic piece of literature in the Doctor's opinion considering his given critique on it, describing it as the literature that paved the way as a precursor to the modern academic discipline of economics.
An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of The Wealth of Nations. By Adam Smith. The Father of Economics no less. Quite the nice fellow too, the Doctor thought as recalls fondly of all the times he visited his old friend of many different versions across the wider multiverse.
Lawrence took notice of the Doctor and Rusalka, sporting the happy smile of an old friend. "Doctor, good to see you that you're still as fine as ever."
"As fine as I'll ever be when it comes to my life, Lawrence," said the Doctor, smiling in turn while slightly looking at the literature that his old friend was holding. "Could that be Adam Smith by any chance?"
Lawrence smiled, responding in a confirming tone. "Yes, that's right, Doctor. I have say that this book that you recommended to me that one time really does seem to be completely ahead of the times. This book is a gold mine for simple travelling merchants like us throughout the countries we walk through in our daily life of business. If it weren't for the fact that many historical obstacles and complications are involved, I would have distributed it to my fellow merchants in equal measure a long time ago."
"Quite a pity indeed, but still that doesn't mean that you couldn't at least copy what you have learned through the books that I've given you and turn it into a literature of your own making for the benefit of the common people. Education is always a plus for the building of society I should say," spoke the Doctor with a smile, all as he and Rusalka now take their places at the table.
"Hmm, if only I was as good as a writer as I can be really," Lawrence spoke in slightly depressed humor.
"Don't sell yourself short. You and your wife had become one of the finest economic teachers of TARDIS School after all. Many staff and students practically love you two," spoke the Doctor, all in a tone of encouragement, all while as he and Rusalka begins eating the rather delicious carrot stew that was brewed by the hands of the wise wolf.
Lawrence smiled. "Quite so."
"Ah, the carrots," said the Doctor, enjoying his meal. "Charlemagne really did a lot of right when it comes to carrots in general, being part of the royal gardens for important uses. His 785 capitulary about imperial lands and imperial courts list them among 90 desirable vegetables, herbs, flowers, and fruit trees, all because of the medicinal benefits that could be gained by it."
"Really now, my Lord Doctor. Discussing about medieval history while we're eating a meal," said Rusalka, with an accompanying smirk, all in a tone of humor.
"One should never let up when it comes to learning all sorts of things, Anna. For even the least of things can be of worthwhile learning," spoke the Doctor, all in the tone of a teacher.
"Of course," Rusalka rolled her eyes, completely used to the fact that the man that she loved more than anything was a history nut by nature.
"Still though, I have to ask, Doctor," Lawrence spoke in a tone of curiosity. "What brings you here to our world considering that Lady Malleus is the only one who is with you at the moment?"
"Oh, just me and Anna stopping by that's all," the Doctor said simply while eating to his sad hearts' content. "That and I really did miss this place very much. The air of simplicity. The wonders of nature. No one is shooting at me at random all the time. You know, the usual stuff."
"I see," spoke Lawrence with serenity, although a little bit suspicious at the Doctor's tone as it seemed a little too sad since the last time he heard of it. Nevertheless, he wouldn't pay it mind out of respect for his old friend, and that he would tell him eventually on what's seem to be the manner when the time was right. His wife, Holo, was also a little bit suspicious as well, having heard of the tone in the Doctor's voice through her sharp wolf like ears, but like her husband, would also not pay mind to it out of respect for her old friend, and that she would be told eventually by him when the time is right.
Rusalka, while eating, also notices the tone clearly despite its subtleties. One that has her saddened from the inside, all due to being the only one so far who knew of the fact that the Doctor was a lot older than the last time anyone had seen him really, being more than countless millennial cycles upon millennial cycles old at this point of his tenth incarnation and face.
And despite such a tone that was uttered in the sadness of subtlety by the Doctor, the rest of the day panned out pretty well all things considered.
Insert Song: End
Insert Song: Start
Dies irae - Animation OST: Ewige Wiederkunft
It was one simple night. One where the the winds seem fair from the east, all as it blows upon the Doctor and Rusalka, who were both resting on top of a large rectangular haystack, leaning towards a wall made out of haystack, all as they looked up at the twinkling stars at night, all while Lawrence Kraftt and Holo were tucking in for the night.
Everything was peaceful. Everything was bliss. Rusalka was gently embracing the Doctor, with a smile accompanying her face, examining the man she loved with interest all as she sees him look up to the stars with childlike wonder and awe.
How cute, she thought with giddiness and pleasure.
She knew just how much the Doctor had love the stars so much. Much like she was of long ago. She would recall all those times when she would snuck out in the middle of the night from her house on the village and watch the stars alongside the Doctor, all as he pointed out to her the vast constellations that graced the heavens above, twinkling in profound harmony, being made out of substances that was quite unique in its process of refinement when it concerns the subject of astronomy.
She used to recall on how the Doctor told her on when he was young, he always dreamt of walking among the stars, much like she had, and wanted to touch them with his own bare hands.
"You could be anything, my little Anna. Yes, I know. You could walk among the stars. As a matter of fact, they are rather more impressive up close and personal when you get to see them. The stars out there in the wide open night sky that you see are far more than just a regular star pentagon, one that has five corner vertices and intersecting edges, or even a concave decagon, one that has ten edges and two sets of five vertices," spoke the Doctor, one who carried the face of the seventh incarnation, the Seventh Doctor, all as he gently embraces the young and innocent Anna Maria Schwagerin to his side, all as they lie down on the open grass, all as the Doctor describes to the young Anna on his dream.
"You know, when I was little like you, I dreamt of the stars. I think it's fair to say in the language of your age, that I lived my dream, I owned the stage, gave it a hundred and ten percent. I hope you have as much fun as I did, Anna," spoke the Doctor, all in a gentle tone, one that spoke of many hints of what was and is to come, one that spoke of hints shrouding the past of the man who was known as the Doctor, one that made the young Anna smile and nod all the same in the innocent fashion of a simple child of the mid 18th century.
She smiled as she recalled fondly of that particular memory, deeming it one of her most precious treasures that she would not want to lose. Ah, she was so very young back then. So very innocent. So very ignorant of the ways of the world. She smiled all as she looks lovingly at the same man, now sporting a different face, his tenth face, the Tenth Doctor, all the same as if it were of long ago.
A shooting star was suddenly seen to grace the heavens, shooting from afar, one that was seen by both the Doctor and Rusalka, which made the both of them smile as they continue to embrace each other, all as they enjoy their own present company and the stars of the heavens in complete silence.
There was silence. Just silence. All as they enjoyed the other's present company.
"Say, my Lord Doctor," Rusalka muttered softly, but clearly. "Did you have fun for today?"
The Doctor smiled at the seemingly innocent question. "Yes, Anna. I did have fun. All because I have you after all."
Rusalka smiled, looking towards him with happy green eyes. "Ah, is that so. Then I'm glad."
They've been staying like this for at least two hours of the night already. Then why does this seem to last much longer than that.
And as the stars twinkled in the night sky, a thought seemed to pass in Rusalka's mind. For just as a star has a lifespan, so too would apply to the Doctor in particular. For the Doctor was just like the sun. Sol lucet omnibus (The sun shines on all all things). The one which shines brightly and graces those who lived on worlds of simplicity and nobility alike. A sun that had been shining brightly for so very long.
But now...
Now the sun's time is almost up. For it was as if this moment was now the proper time of dictation for losing its fuel of heat. Little by little. For the once big red supergiant is now finally having its time catching up with it.
When the core runs out of hydrogen, it helium into carbon just like the sun. However, after the helium is gone, their mass is enough to fuse carbon into heavier elements such as oxygen, neon, silicon, magnesium, sulfur and iron. Once the core has turned to iron, it can burn no longer. The star collapses by its own gravity and the iron core heats up. The core becomes so tightly packed that protons and electrons merge to form neutrons. In less than a second, the iron core, which is about the size of Earth, shrinks to a neutron core with a radius of about 6 miles (10 kilometers). The outer layers of the star fall inward on the neutron core, thereby crushing it further. The core heats to billions of degrees and explodes (supernova), thereby releasing large amounts of energy and material into space. The shock wave from the supernova can initiate star formation in other interstellar clouds. The remains of the core can form a neutron star or a black hole depending upon the mass of the original star.
Same goes for a Time Lord such as the Doctor, with only one regeneration left before the end. From the Tenth Doctor to the Eleventh Doctor.
She recalls a time once before long since pass. All when she was lying down on the very stone pavement that would enact the sixth Swastika.
A faltering consciousness. A crumbling body. The grim reaper had her in his hands, melting my soul into the abyss of Gold (Ougon). She knew that this would happen. It wasn't like she was satisfied with this outcome, but she has long since given up at this point. She knew her limits - a miracle would never grace her. Self-scorn, self-condemnation, regret... Ah, why couldn't the sea of chaos swallowed her already, liberating her from the curse of thought? She was waiting for that moment. And yet...
"..."
She opened her eyes to a starlit sky. She lay on the back as the moon showered her with its ethereal light.
"Wh... Huh?"
She didn't quite understand what was going on. She remembered Lord Machina - Lord Goëtz von Berlichingen - Lord Michael Wittman - Nigredo: the Black Knight - Number VII of the Longinus Dreizehn Orden's Obsidian Round Table striking her - the curtains of her existence must have been drawn shut. The golden devil's castle drifted in the air above her. It seemed awfully small in distance, but she could also clearly make it out now.
"Oh..."
So that was what happened.
"So you're telling me to crawl up to the ground like the wretch that I am. That I don't even deserve to melt into the castle."
They used her body as a convenient tool for their purpose. She was pried away from the castle, and cast down to the earth as a sacrifice to the next Swastika. This was probably the location of the sixth. They did not even permit her to die a glorious death and rest for a while - now I had to quell the hunger of this sorry place before they'd take her back.
"Those bastards... They seriously show no mercy..." she said, speaking with a sad smile.
They'd kill her twice in a row. She'd have to taste the same terror and despair all over again.
"Haha... Hahahaha..."
Whatever, like I cared, she thought. After all, she was just a turtle in the mud, unable to catch up to anyone. Unable to reach any place. She'd pass away while gazing up at the deep canopy of the grand sky, extending her hand towards it, fruitlessly craving for the heavens. Who could ask for a more perfect end?
"Ah... so alluring."
She envied it so.
"Ah... so bright."
But she could never reach it.
"If I lacked the strength to catch up to it, I thought I could at least stop it in place."
There were a person once upon a time, the one person before the one person who came, the one who taught her the about the sanctity of the ephemeral. But she unfortunately could no longer remember who it was. The last memories she hoped to change began to wither and fade.
"Wait...! Don't leave me behind...!"
In that moment...
"..."
She felt someone looking down on her. Someone who seemed familiar and yet was not so at the same time. An ever present blur beneath the light rays of the sky amidst such pale shadows. A figure unlike any other.
"Ah!"
Who was it...?
"Here..."
Her hand moved by itself, extending towards a certain someone looking down at me from the heavens. She paid no heed to the rapidly crumbling body.
"...t. Wa... it..."
Just a little bit further. Just a little bit further. A little... Please don't leave me.
"Th-There is... someone... I need to find..."
The mysterious shadow who initially set her upon this path. The other man...
"I want eternity..."
The one man above all else who loved the ephemeral and already attained the eternal.
"If I became eternal, then I might meet them again... If I became eternal, he might love me..."
She couldn't know for sure. She had no guarantees. But she didn't want to be left behind ever again.
"Therefore..."
Give me your hand. Right on the brink of death, she extended her arm towards the sky. Not to pull someone down. Not to drown them in filth. She merely wanted to take hold of a hand she failed to grasp back then. The same hand that once washed away in the rivers of time. Almost like it was never there. The ever elusive shadow. A constant enigma. A mystery forever untold. A revelation that was deemed complex in the scales of the ephemeral.
"Please..."
She reached out, longing, yearning...
But then...
Someone takes her hand. A gentle touch. A familiar touch. A touch of the ephemeral.
"...!"
And the moment she reached it, realization finally dawned upon her.
"Oh..."
She couldn't see his face. She didn't understand anything. Neither who he was, nor what he was doing, nor what he thought of her. But she felt him within her soul.
"Wow... so you were there all along."
Tears flow down. One drop leaking at a time.
It was him. There was no doubt about it. Therefore...
"Listen..."
What should I say? Her lips parted before she had time to think.
"Do you... still love your... ephemeral moments?"
Did you still wish to make them eternal?
"For example.. this very one..."
Would my death remain in your mind as a moment to adore - an ephemeral glitter to be loved? Would he preserved it for an eternity? And the answer...
"Yes," he said so simply, with that familiar Scottish accent. The man known as the Doctor. His seventh face. His seventh incarnation spoke with honesty, with no hint of subtlety or guile. Only kindness remains. All as he gently holds onto the woman who is now lying in her death bed. "I love the stability of time frozen in place, which then moves ever straightforward, all unto the fabric of space, hinge unto the boundaries of eternity."
He answered the very same line as in the past. During a time of innocence. During a time of bliss. During a time of wonder. Memories of the forever bygone days of the centuries that seemed to pass.
"Ha... Hah hah... Hahaha..."
It sounded so ridiculous she couldn't help but cry. But it wasn't due to some inexplicable emotion - that much she knew for certain.
"You really are a strange one, aren't you?"
The blur clears. A figure could be seen from her nearly dying sight. A man of short stature. Initially appearing to be mid-forties for an approximate physical appearance. Brown hair. Blue eyes. One of kindness and guilt brought to the fore. Ancient and yet ever new. With little tears coming down like little streams. A genuine smile. One riddled in happiness and sadness. A wrinkled cream-coloured linen suit, with a glistening silk shirt worn with a green silk cravat, and a paisley banded white fedora. Worn on his lapel would be a Smiley Face pin badge. He was gently holding her hand. Up until the end. For he never left her really. Not now. Not ever. From the very beginning up to the very end.
"Like you're one to talk, Anna," he spoke with a genuine tone of sadness and humor, all while slightly visible tears could be seen to come down from his face.
She felt satisfied with that brief déjà vu of an exchange.
"Goodbye. I'll be the first to go this time."
And so - still somewhat mirthful that she had the chance to say the words she always wanted to - she melted into the night sky.
"Yes, rest now, Anna. I'll take care of everything else until you return," the Doctor spoke with the edge of resolve, with teary eyes become steeled to determination, all as he sees her disappear with his own two eyes. The same eyes that had already seen her many countless myriad deaths throughout the eternal recurrence of the mercurial curse. With this death being the only less painful outcome among other outcomes.
She smiled. All as she recalls of the moment of her death. The moment when she became the sacrifice for the sixth Swastika. The moment when the blur between her desires was forever cleaned and washed away. A moment of clarity was given to her in that precious moment. The moment she felt loved totally and unconditionally.
And the same man who comforted her was now the same man who she was lying by his side, all with a different face and body, but still the same man. All as they watch the stars together, seeing it twinkle with their very own eyes. All as they lie in a rectangular shaped haystack.
She gently clenches the Doctor's shirt, all as her lips trembled, all in remembrance of that very night that she never truly forgot. A smile of kindness upon her death. All before her ascent to Gladsheimr - Gullinkambi Fünfte Weltall. Even after all this time, despite all that she did, he still refuses to abandon her, he still comes with that same smile of happiness and sadness. No matter what she did, she always had the ever present hope that she could be truly forgiven. And the Doctor already had, many myriads upon myriads of times. An eternal debt was payed. An eternal debt was forgiven. All with a smile that was awaiting her when all is said and done.
And now...
The same thing that happened once to her long ago would happen to the Doctor. Only in this case where things differ from perspectives. Unlike her, there would be no afterlife awaiting the Doctor to fall back to, for things such as the Matrix or other things of hidden nature connected to the concept of an afterlife for a Time Lord were truly no more, taken along with the Time Lords. Once he dies, he stays dead for good this time. One that made her heart break to the point of seeming shattered across her entire being.
But wait. This could not be it. Surely it shouldn't be the case, right? Surely there's another way to fix this without any need for death?
But then, the more she thought about it, the less uncertain of a risk it might seem to be. For there might exist some method to try to bring in more artificial regenerations to the fore. But there are grave risks in doing so. For regeneration was a unique kind of energy, a rarity of its own, one that belonged and championed upon the banner of the Time Lords. That and she knew that the Doctor would not allow anyone at risk themselves all at the price of keeping him alive.
No wait, but surely there could be others. Others who could help him.
What about his fellow 12 Core Members such as Lady Professor Washu Hakubi? Can't she be able to do something about this? What about Lady Michael, the closest thing that the Doctor had to a mother? Surely she won't allow her second son to perish at the determined point in time? What about the others? So many to call and contact regarding this dreadful situation? So much that could be done?
And yet...
She knows that the Doctor would reject in kind to prevent his very own death. For when looked at from his perspective, his entire life was a living testimony that could never truly be contained in any one database due to living and experiencing through so much more than anyone she'd ever knew. A very unique individual among the Time Lords.
For his life truly was the ever present battlefield. One that allowed him no amount of rest. A battlefield that was always empty. For everyone else has fallen.
She bit her trembling lips in subtle anguish, all as she looked at the man she loved with a very deep sense of sadness. Little drops of blood seem to be flowing inside her mouth. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, there truly was no denying it. For the man she loved with all her heart has the clock ticking down on him.
Anxious. Distress. Trembling beneath all of these feelings that were subtle but were no less present to the Doctor, who took notice immediately, to which in turn, he begins to comfortably pat Rusalka's red hair, all as if to reassure her that everything was going to be alright.
Rusalka looks at him in the eye, with her green eyes trembling and crying, with not a word present from her lips, for only her body was trembling, something that speaks far more than mere words or sentences. All as the Doctor gently wipes away her tears, not needing to say anymore, only sporting that smile that she knew him for so long. A smile of happiness and sadness concerning her. A smile of the ephemeral moment to move ever forward without ever turning back. For each memory was like a bunch of pictures stack together. Each picture would not move a budge. However, if one were to simply flick them all together, the animation of the photo comes alive, thereby giving rise to new experiences. Same with time itself. The very passage of time that seemed complex was also pretty simple to understand. For despite the length, width, and height of it, each memory and experience that was made throughout made the ever present moment worth living for.
"Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, Wie (sehr) ich mich frage, was du bist. Weit über der Welt so hoch, Wie ein Diamant am Himmel. Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, Wie (sehr) ich mich frage, was du bist! (Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are!)"
A song was heard. A lullaby was sung by the Doctor. All in the German tongue. With the delicate sense of the ever sensitive heart. One that one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin had heard quite long ago. Back in the days of her childhood. Back during the days of her innocence. Back in a time unlike any other when she and the Doctor were simply walking down the path hand in hand, all with trees surrounding them, all with the Doctor singing that same lullaby that he is singing at the present moment in time, all with an umbrella in hand, where an elaborate handle in the shape of a large wine question mark was found, twisting and turning in a gesture of joy as the Doctor and Rusalka walk hand in hand as the sun begins to set, denoting the sign of late afternoon.
"Wenn die lodernde Sonne fort ist Wenn nichts da ist, auf das er scheint Dann zeigst du dein kleines Licht, Funkel, funkel, durch die Nacht. Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, Wie (sehr) ich mich frage, was du bist! (When the blazing sun is gone, When there's nothing he shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, through the night. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are!)
She recalls it, all as her eyes trembled in tears, one of happiness and sadness, all as she is being gently embraced by the Doctor as he sings it in the familiar tune that she had once heard him by. All in that same Scottish accent. An almost perfect reenactment of that time. For it would seem that the past and the present became one in an eternal moment.
"Im dunkelblauen Himmel so tief Spähe/st (ich/du/...) oft durch meine Vorhänge Denn du schließt nie deine Augen Bis sich die Morgensonne erheben tut Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, Wie (sehr) ich mich frage, was du bist (In the dark blue sky so deep Through my curtains often peep For you never close your eyes Til the morning sun does rise Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are)"
She smiles. Listening closely and attentively to the sound of his voice. All as he gently embraces her and fixes her hair. All as he gently wipes away her tears. All as if reassuring her that everything is going to work out just fine despite things seemingly not to be the case.
She wants to believe that. More than anything. And even the reassurance that was given to her, she could not truly imagine a life without him. She doubt that anyone who was truly touched by him ever could.
Even with time travel aside, what remained in the past would still remain the past. And that nothing could truly bring it back. Not without consequences. For time is ever forward in nature. It cannot turn back. The Last Great Time War is a perfect example on how one should never abuse time. For time breaks so easily at the very edge of a precipice. A time where and when space and time were completely broken. The rules flew out the window. So much pain. So much sufferings. War and death were always ever present. The clock was broken. And the maintenances required to fix it where all rendered unavailable.
"Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern, Wie (sehr) ich mich frage, was du bist (Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are)"
The last part of the song was sung. The voice falls silent. Only a smile remained. One of kindness. All as the brown eyes look at the teary green eyes with the ever present kindness that she had known him for.
She embraces him. She cries so softly. She clutches his shirt with anxiety and fear of the unknown. She wants him to stay. She does not want him to die. She wants him right here. She wants him right now.
As she lives for eternity. An eternity of the ephemeral. A goal that she had achieved as death no longer had any power over her. For as of the present moment in time, Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin was now far more than just 255 years old at this point. For she had now lived a very long multi-millennial cycle's worth of life. And yet despite that, it seemed that the Doctor, the man that had been with her for so very long, the man who she had loved with all her heart, was seemingly leaving her once more. Only this time, he's never going to come back.
It wasn't fair. Why? Why did this had to happen? Why can't there still be more time left before the end?
Oh she knew why. She just refuses to accept it.
She couldn't help but cry at the seemingly cruel manner of how life and death works. While she remains alive, the man she loves would now begin to pass on and never to return again. Why couldn't it stay the same? Why now? Why not even later down the line? But those were all selfish thoughts that came from the Lady in Red.
"Be strong, Anna," reassured the Doctor, all with that same tone of kindness, all with that same smile of happiness and sadness, all as he touches her trembling face in a gentle manner. "Cheer up. We have all the time in the multiverse, remember. I've got only one regeneration left before my next life so my death is very far from the moment. No need to make things bleak for the time being. And I intend to make everything count until the very end. All those moments you want to spend with me, I intend to make everything count. All in order to make up for all those myriad of times during the Eternal Mercurial Recurrence (Die Omega Ewigkeit). So don't worry too much about the future. For we have all the time that we needed. And this time of the present needs to be given the focus and respect that is due. I won't go anywhere. Not yet. Not now. I'll still be here. So there's nothing to worry about for now."
She wanted to believe that. She truly wanted to not have to worry too much. But still... she couldn't help but worry. She couldn't help but feel afraid. Afraid for the very moment when he suddenly would no longer be here. Only in the deepest recesses of a memory that has long since pass and overstayed its welcome.
Feelings come to the fore of her heart. She suddenly draws near. She grabs hold of the collar of the Doctor shirt in order to pull him towards her. All while she initiates a kiss.
"Hmhmhm..."
A kiss that was soft. A kiss of love. A kiss of sorrow. A kiss that was sweet. A kiss that was sour. One that had more than enough space of feelings that had blossomed in the countless millennial cycles that seemed to pass. An emotional connection was established. Both between the one who initiated it and the one who silently accepted it, responding it with his own, all as they kiss as the stars in the heavens above shine and twinkle, almost as if in a mere signaling of the ever present moment that is now taking place.
The kiss lasted for about more than a minute. Then another minute. Then another. Then another. Until it eventually reached at the number five. Until both lips finally parted. With Rusalka gently placing her right hand to the left face of the Doctor, eventually embracing him once more, all to which the Doctor complied as he gently touched her red hair.
A resolve was set in stone. An ever present determination forever sets in. The Doctor will make every moment count. He will do what he always does what is best. All ready for new adventures and misadventures. All ready to meet old and new types of people. All to explore strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, and to boldly go where no one had gone before.
A resolve was set in stone. An ever present determination forever sets in. The Doctor will make every moment count. Every single moment he spends with one Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin, he will make everything count. Every detail. Every line. Every curve. All of it ever present to his mind as he grows that much determined to see her ever present smile. A smile that he would do everything in his power to maintain even after he is gone.
This was his promise. This was his resolve.
For he is and will always be the Doctor. Whether in this life or the next. Whether in life or in the death that would soon come. And he will be ready to face it. But until then, he focuses on the here and now as he comforts the woman all grown up, the woman he failed to save, the woman who shines like the stars in his eyes, all as he embraces her with care, shushing her ever present cries, promising to always make every moment between them count. For that is what she deserved more than anything.
And the ever present moment would come full circle as two kindred souls embrace each other in love and warmth, all as the stars aligned in perfect harmony and balance, twinkling silently in the distance, one that was both near and far, lighting up the very heavens that never seem to rest. A picture perfect moment of the ephemeral moment. A picture perfect of eternity.
Insert Song: End
ED Song:
Dies irae: The Animation 『Jubilus』
Characters:
The Tenth Doctor - A: David Tennant
The Seventh Doctor - A: Sylvester McCoy
Lady Anna Maria "Rusalka" Schwagerin - VA: Yuka Inokuchi
Lord Mercurius - VA: Kousuke Toriumi
Lawrence Krafft - VA: Jun Fukuyama
Holo - VA: Ami Koshimizu
Agent Joseph Keller