Post by The Second Doctor on Aug 23, 2011 23:54:48 GMT -5
A musky evening rolled in, painting the faces of pedestrians and those like Alec alike in a shade of fear and anger at the cards fate had dealt them. It was days like these that the Timelord wished he had a bed not to get out of.
The indefinite lease on life he had arranged for Susan had ended in flames. He tried to be "a better person" but mostly he left the impression of a sinking ship as morals went. He couldn't say he enjoyed being a problem no one ever wanted to solve, but he got by.
It was a cold night, and the exposed flesh on Alec's arms and face numb with the freeze. A coat, jeans, and a fedora weren't ideal for December in Cardiff, but he never overdressed. His sharp features and the dried-over pain in his eyes drove off anyone he attempted to talk to, maybe if he didn't always start conversations with "So I was thinking..." he would find someone to make his life less lonely, but he didn't care for companionship just so much as an enemy. He could deal with enemies, enemies were a cinch. Friends he could deal with.
Ah, like a Nostrovite. Those shape-shifters made great company. Their screaming was at such a pitch different from humans that shooting them was much more enjoyable than actual conversation. When he had a reason to, of course, he didn't kill needlessly. Usually.
Well, he had a few exceptions, but he didn't like to think about them when he was angry. His usual problem was being angry at nothing, a complexity of Timelords that extended to boundless, perpetual malice that seemed to be fueled by themselves.
Alec turned down an alley, not really caring that there were probably idiot teens attempting to sell drugs or such. And there were. Just not among the living... He gaped at the skeletons of four teens, all human males, cause of death was obviously alien, the way they were, like they had been eaten by pirahnas of the air.
Then the Dark Lord came to his conclusion. He had two shadows.
The indefinite lease on life he had arranged for Susan had ended in flames. He tried to be "a better person" but mostly he left the impression of a sinking ship as morals went. He couldn't say he enjoyed being a problem no one ever wanted to solve, but he got by.
It was a cold night, and the exposed flesh on Alec's arms and face numb with the freeze. A coat, jeans, and a fedora weren't ideal for December in Cardiff, but he never overdressed. His sharp features and the dried-over pain in his eyes drove off anyone he attempted to talk to, maybe if he didn't always start conversations with "So I was thinking..." he would find someone to make his life less lonely, but he didn't care for companionship just so much as an enemy. He could deal with enemies, enemies were a cinch. Friends he could deal with.
Ah, like a Nostrovite. Those shape-shifters made great company. Their screaming was at such a pitch different from humans that shooting them was much more enjoyable than actual conversation. When he had a reason to, of course, he didn't kill needlessly. Usually.
Well, he had a few exceptions, but he didn't like to think about them when he was angry. His usual problem was being angry at nothing, a complexity of Timelords that extended to boundless, perpetual malice that seemed to be fueled by themselves.
Alec turned down an alley, not really caring that there were probably idiot teens attempting to sell drugs or such. And there were. Just not among the living... He gaped at the skeletons of four teens, all human males, cause of death was obviously alien, the way they were, like they had been eaten by pirahnas of the air.
Then the Dark Lord came to his conclusion. He had two shadows.
