outer_divide

[He starts to pull off his scarf as he starts heading in the direction of the settlement.] The planet or the alien ship or the fog? I wonder why the new people didn't warn us about this. [He doesn't think they accidentally forgot. But he tends toward suspicion.

And then offers the Doctor his scarf. It's not a bright pretty one, but-] You might be able to put this over your mouth and block out some of the fog. See if it lessens the effect. [He saw enough of the local residents in gas masks, maybe it'll work after a bit.]

On their own I wouldn't find them particularly odd, but taken as a whole - well, it's very intriguing, to say the very least. [his words are rushed and rapid; his smile is a bit too bright when Rhade offers the scarf]

Ah, thank you! It certainly can't hurt. [he takes it, wrapping it snugly round his mouth] I used to have a scarf, you know, wore it constantly. Much longer than this one, mind.

Were you living on a colder planet? [Which, logically, should be a reason why one wore a scarf all the time. But he'd been wearing this one recently for no more reason than he didn't want to lose it and didn't know when he might need the extra cloth.]

During the attacks several people were injured and I helped them in. I asked for a couple of extra items when obtaining clothing from the local trader that I could use in case it happened again.

[And... still nothing that he could see. So he assumed his immunities were holding.] I would say if I saw dead people, I would be especially inconvenienced.

Sometimes. Well, not living - passing through. Always passing through.

[he knows Rhade can't see the hard, grim smile, and it's all for the best, really] It's no fun at all, I can assure you.

Do you suppose this is another form of attack?

I think this is the remnants of a useless war. One where they became so focused on destroying each other they sabotaged their own survival. If it is an attack, it's foolishly implemented without immediately being followed up when people were displaying symptoms over the network, and everything seems to have adapted to it but us.

[He's a civilized Nietzschean. He believes in conflict, but conflict you can grow from. He's also an individualist that fears being alone, that fears that finality. So he gets the sadness of people passing through.

But it's an unfortunate commonality.]

It smells terrible though. [He rubs his nose.]

It may not be so direct. Perhaps... [and he trails off, as other battlefields flicker before his eyes; her can almost taste the ash in his mouth, and it's not long before he stumbles]

It is possible it could be long-standing- [But then the Doctor is stumbling, and he catches him again. This time he doesn't let go of him, and keeps his arm hooked firmly around his back.]

We'll speculate when the fog's cleared. [Still earnest. He keeps an eye out for the nearest building appearing to have a door, and leads him that way.]

[the Doctor takes several deep breaths before straightening, meeting Rhade's eyes a bit ruefully] Yes, a fine idea. Onward, then.

[he's been supported too many times to mind it overmuch]

[If asked, Rhade could come up with any number of lengthy explanations as to why he was helping the Doctor and how it contributed to his individualist goals. The Doctor had a ship. The Doctor was necessary to figure out more information on the collars. He had to prove his capacities to the Doctor-

The truth is, his biggest benefit is that he feels better about himself as he helps him get into one of the buildings. The fog is outside- but Rhade doesn't know if the improved air quality will help him much.

He puts his hand to his cheek to turn his head (he's from a very touchy race, many apologies to the Doctor) and meets his eyes again. Though this time he's seeing if they're regaining focus.] What were you seeing then?

[the Doctor is most decidedly not, and he's far from tactile in this incarnation, but he feels far too raw and weary to protest; the gentle touch is, really, a nice contrast to the barrage of violence in his head

he blinks a few times, before he focuses on Rhade, on here and now]

I - other times, other worlds, other battles. I've seen...far too many, in my time. Caused some of them, in fact. Sometimes by accident, sometimes... because it was the only way.

[He thinks on what Dylan has said about his future, about siding with the Nietzschean rebellion. His people coexisted with the Commonwealth for centuries, without compromising their competitive natures. It was when the Commonwealth showed hesitance with the Magog that Rhade started backing the revolution, while previously he'd been in support of their combined strength.

Sometimes... because it was the only way.

A tight swallow is all he allows of the thought to show on his face, before he finally gives the Doctor his personal space bubble back and goes to make sure there aren't any unblocked windows in this room.]

What happened? [Curiosity compels him, considering its relevance.]

[the sudden space is both a relief and a loss; he takes a moment to steady himself, to take in the worn walls and dusty corners

he turns to Rhade with a wry, bleak smile]

Which war? [then he shakes his head] They weren't all wars. Some were - were barely skirmishes, really. Some didn't need to be battles at all if they'd only bloody listened. [his voice rose higher and higher, only for him to wince at the end, raising a hand to his temple]

I'm sorry. I - it's all so vivid now.

[Now that he's satisfied that at least this room's secure, he goes to sit nearby.]

It may be vivid, but you're safe. [If they'd only listened. That he can relate to, too. But apparently Dylan doesn't hear him until its far too late. There's nothing that he can do for his friend here. All his warnings were for nothing.]

You can't start any wars in here.

[Maybe he can. Maybe Rhade will take words and ideas and use them to tear down a civilization. He doesn't know whether he likes or hates the idea. He's slowly coming around to acceptance of what he is, anyway.]

Can't I? [he rubs at his forehead, as if he could rub the images away] I've seen people incite violence from iron cells.

[his eyes widen as the room changes; wood to steal, boards to bars

he can't help but chuckle as his hand falls] Well, there's a familiar sight.

[he blinks rapidly, willing reality to come into focus]

[He leans to get a better look at the Doctor's face, watching for his reality to drift in and out. But his tone briefly becomes cheeky.]

Oh, I can be incited into violence. But I'm quite stubborn and prefer my violence to be my own. So it would take you a while.

[the room fades back into view as the Doctor laughs] Careful. Nothing tempts me more than a challenge.

I knew you had a competitive spirit. [His grin looks a little cheekier, encouraged that the Doctor's spirits seem to be lifting. Maybe if the hallucinations hold, at least they'll keep with mood.] There's nothing a Nietzschean likes more than a little character building competition.

[And they like winning, too.]

Nietzsche! Now, there was a fellow. I had some splendid arguments with him. [he tilts his head slightly, pensive] We agreed on quite a bit, though.

[His brows pop right up.]

You met Nietzsche?

[He can't really decide whether the Doctor is fog crazy or not. It's entertaining, even if he is.]

Oh, yes - in 1879, not long after he resigned from the university. [he shakes his head, frowning faintly] It was a shame, the troubles his health gave him.

Yes, well... also a shame how his health was taken advantage of by the nationalists. Applying his name to things he never would have supported.

[He fusses with his arm wraps, ones he's had to make since coming here so they're a little uncomfortable around his boneblades.] "Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius. Send your ships into uncharted seas. Live at war with your peers and yourselves. Soon the age will be past when you could be content to live hidden in forests like shy deer. At long last the search for knowledge will reach out for its due, it will want to rule and possess, and you with it." [It's one of his favorite quotes. He fidgets a little more with the wrap, before shrugging.]

For an individualist, I suspect I am going to begin feeling the lack of my own kind very keenly if my stay here exceeds a few more months. [He can admit that.]

[his frown deepens as he shakes his head] Too many such voices are appropriated - stolen.

[he adds his own voice to the quotation, soft and faint; there's a weary, wistful admiration to his voice]

Perhaps speaking of them will help?

[He's torn for a moment, considering what Dylan told him. But he knows what he loves about his people. He knows what he holds above all else about it.]

We're warrior poets that travel the stars and bring civilization. We know personal respect, because we know shaming is how you wound someone with words. We're competitive with others and ourselves so we might grow personally from it, and build ourselves stronger for no other reason than to improve. We know the truth you see, and the truth you don't see. We are egoistic, vain, selfish, and we love our children. And those that give us those children deserve absolute say in how they spend their lives, and that all sentient beings deserve the right to stand up and fight for themselves.

I heard some of my people become something else in later centuries. But for hundreds of years, this is what we've been and what we should be. [He looks more proud then as he looks at his boneblades. Then a little sad, and hums thoughtfully. He'd prefer Nietzscheans as he knew them, not whatever Dylan was describing.]

[the Doctor smiles as he listens; he wishes he could take such pride in his people, that he could speak of them with sincere fondness]

If your people changed for the worse, it's certainly possible they can change again.

What about yours? [Since they're talking, and as long as they're talking the Doctor seems to be- well, he doesn't know whether he's seeing things or not, but he at least seems to be very much in control of himself.]

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[Spam] GIVE ME NOTIFS, DW

[Spam] /fistyruueee!!! It's alright!

[Spam] <3

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