The Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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eastbound2023-04-15 09:10 pm
thedreamer) wrote in eastbound2023-04-15 09:10 pm
audio >> text >> audio | un: dollhouse (backdated to wedding day 1)
Hello, friends, colleagues, partners, traveling companions, ghostbusters, and all other applicable terms suitable for the genuine fondness felt when carrying on through another day together! I'm the Doctor. Not a doctor, the Doctor. Though, I am a doctor of practically everything, in fact. [ As if that's less confusing. And he doesn't elaborate further. ] I've been through this with most of you already so let's skip the finer details, eh? Time Lord with two hearts traveling about time and space in my box, all brand new and ancient, the bluest blue. But here we all are together now, specifically on this train at the moment.
So! Onto the important things! First: everyone okay? [ Narrator: No. No one is okay, Doctor. ] Settling in? Call on me if you need company. You'll find I'm well suited for it, if we haven't had the pleasure of our paths crossing yet. Pity, that!
Second: I had a chat with our dear Contessa Lita recently. Wonderful company, easy to pass the time with, brilliant conversationalist, absolutely forthcoming and nothing at all unusual about her demeanor, just like everything and everyone else is perfectly normal here.
[ An actual pause, an intake of breath. Imagine that! His tone, of course, is overly exaggerated, heavy with sarcasm when he speaks about everything being perfectly normal. ]
A few important and relevant details to share regarding the bridal party we're traveling with. She's—I do wonder if this would be better—hang on.
There. Okay. Good. Write it out. Remember this. Take notes. Brew a pot of tea. Sit and stay a while.
Contessa Lita - happily married? Or is she? Her count, by her own admission, will be around 'some time, at some point, somewhere.' Vague details and seemingly weary of discussing her marriage.
Firo the hero with endless stories and we're all just footnotes in her tale, so says the Contessa.
Prassenze and Firo had never met until now. No doubt you've heard the gossip already.
Prassenze wrote a nearly obsessive amount of letters of admiration to Firo. Said all the right things. An enamored admirer.
No, this text business is a bit more limiting...
There we are, much better. I like hearing your voices anyway!
[ Or...the sound of his own voice...? ]
The Contessa, despite my numerous assurances to the contrary, insists she's the plainer sister. Nowhere near as important as Firo.
[ He did ardently try numerous times to boost up her morale and confidence, but, well, by her own repeated admission, she's but a bystander in Firo's grand story. ]
If you're at all curious about the Cradle itself, as I was, the Contessa shared that the storms used to be far worse before the rules were put in place to prevent dream thieving and the dream thieves were hunted down, but the danger of the Cradle still exists. Now what about the dream thieves, you ask, and naturally you would ask—they were supposedly using the storms to cook things and bring them into the waking world and it made all the nightmares worse.
[ Certainly, not entirely unlike a few things he's encountered before in his own travels. ]
They would...take what existed in someone's dreams and put it back here with the other wakers and no one could tell the difference between what was real and what isn't. Dream thieves look like anyone else, and when they would go messing about, they'd bring things to life in the Cradle, which made the Cradle angry, like a child or a baby throwing a tantrum, she was quick to emphasize. Yes, that isn't lost on me either—a child throwing a tantrum in the Cradle.
Ah, what else—told you, we had a good long chat—oh, right, she also didn't answer when I asked how long she's been on this train. Avoiding the answer, didn't know the answer, didn't want to know, didn't care to know, insert other ideas here.
There we are, then, let's talk amongst ourselves!
So! Onto the important things! First: everyone okay? [ Narrator: No. No one is okay, Doctor. ] Settling in? Call on me if you need company. You'll find I'm well suited for it, if we haven't had the pleasure of our paths crossing yet. Pity, that!
Second: I had a chat with our dear Contessa Lita recently. Wonderful company, easy to pass the time with, brilliant conversationalist, absolutely forthcoming and nothing at all unusual about her demeanor, just like everything and everyone else is perfectly normal here.
[ An actual pause, an intake of breath. Imagine that! His tone, of course, is overly exaggerated, heavy with sarcasm when he speaks about everything being perfectly normal. ]
A few important and relevant details to share regarding the bridal party we're traveling with. She's—I do wonder if this would be better—hang on.
There. Okay. Good. Write it out. Remember this. Take notes. Brew a pot of tea. Sit and stay a while.
Contessa Lita - happily married? Or is she? Her count, by her own admission, will be around 'some time, at some point, somewhere.' Vague details and seemingly weary of discussing her marriage.
Firo the hero with endless stories and we're all just footnotes in her tale, so says the Contessa.
Prassenze and Firo had never met until now. No doubt you've heard the gossip already.
Prassenze wrote a nearly obsessive amount of letters of admiration to Firo. Said all the right things. An enamored admirer.
No, this text business is a bit more limiting...
There we are, much better. I like hearing your voices anyway!
[ Or...the sound of his own voice...? ]
The Contessa, despite my numerous assurances to the contrary, insists she's the plainer sister. Nowhere near as important as Firo.
[ He did ardently try numerous times to boost up her morale and confidence, but, well, by her own repeated admission, she's but a bystander in Firo's grand story. ]
If you're at all curious about the Cradle itself, as I was, the Contessa shared that the storms used to be far worse before the rules were put in place to prevent dream thieving and the dream thieves were hunted down, but the danger of the Cradle still exists. Now what about the dream thieves, you ask, and naturally you would ask—they were supposedly using the storms to cook things and bring them into the waking world and it made all the nightmares worse.
[ Certainly, not entirely unlike a few things he's encountered before in his own travels. ]
They would...take what existed in someone's dreams and put it back here with the other wakers and no one could tell the difference between what was real and what isn't. Dream thieves look like anyone else, and when they would go messing about, they'd bring things to life in the Cradle, which made the Cradle angry, like a child or a baby throwing a tantrum, she was quick to emphasize. Yes, that isn't lost on me either—a child throwing a tantrum in the Cradle.
Ah, what else—told you, we had a good long chat—oh, right, she also didn't answer when I asked how long she's been on this train. Avoiding the answer, didn't know the answer, didn't want to know, didn't care to know, insert other ideas here.
There we are, then, let's talk amongst ourselves!