”Ahhh, Neptonian. Etidi style, or…?”
An interesting choice, he thought, considering that with
the right intent most Neptonian martial arts were meant
to break and dismantle. While the Venusian arts certainly
could venture into the same area, it was definitely used
more for prolonged immobilisation to temporary paralysis —
defensive, rather than offensive. That probably explained
why they were sizing each other up now, circling without
either of them making a move. But if she was going heavy
on the offence, perhaps that meant her defence would be
— so he swerves in and around, striking with a thick
sweep of his foot towards the back of her leg.
Romana, was rather good at reading facial cues, she
prided herself on being able to read him. But, since this
was a new face, one, that she still has yet to get a feel
for… well, the Time Lady is at a loss as to what he could
be thinking. Her gaze was keen, looking for anything that
may give her a clue; a twitch of the mouth, anyth——
—— but her thought was cut short. She was quick,
however - not quick enough. The back of her
leg is hit with his foot, with enough force to send
her to her knees.
“Damn,” she mutters through heavy breaths, “what
a silly and amateur mistake to make.”
”Yes. Fine. Good.” Marty’s down to agree to anything if it means getting back to his century. ”I mean— we’d have to go get him first. He’s in jail in 1931 about to be killed by gangsters but— I can’t go back without the car.” They always did. Usually from meddling in the history of Hill Valley.
”And I can’t go back to the future without Doc.”
Her nose wrinkled at the mention of gangsters more out of disdain than anything else. Those thugs would be easily dealt with - primitive weapons and itchy trigger fingers were hardly anything to work oneself over; she didn’t mean to seem overconfident, but their odds of finding this ‘Doc’ and returning them both to their proper time… well, she did like the chances if truth be told.
She held an arm out for him.
“Shall we, McFly?”
send me a “☁” and i will put my itunes on shuffle, pick my favorite line from the first song that comes up and use it for a starter.
"Angel or father? Friend or Phantom? Who is it there, staring?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m not in a terrible rush to find out.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, though it doesn’t really sound like he means it.
The Doctor’s not sure why he’s brought it up, really — perhaps it
was just that, for a moment, he had wanted to hash it out, whatever
ill blood was still between them. But he’s slinking back into himself
now, at her dismissal of the subject— done more out of kindness
than apathy, he knows, but also out of fear and regret. He smiles,
the lines of his face stretching taut and pressing together. It makes
him look older, tired and worn.
"What’s done is done," he repeats her words, creaking up to his
feet, holding out a hand for her, too. “And I much prefer where
we stand now.”
Romana watches him from the corner of her eye, stomach
tight in a knot. They had been putting off this conversation
for… centuries. There would be no sense in denying that there
were still unresolved issues between them. But Romana did
not wish to undo all the work they had done to get this far. And,
she feared, that discussing sore subjects would do more to hinder
than help their relationship; the muscles relaxed, and she exhaled
a tiny sigh at his willingness to drop it.
“As do I.” Romana takes the offered hand, threading her fingers though
his, and getting to her feet. A smile, small and genuine graced her lips,
“Much better than all that shouting nonsense.”
”Because that’s how I see the universe. Every waking second,
I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not.
That’s the burden of a Time Lord…
And I’m the only one left.”
She ends up getting lucky — or perhaps it’s just her skill.
The sweep of her foot knocks into his shin and the sudden
lack of balance sends the Doctor tripping forwards, falling.
His arms fling out just in time to block the brunt of the
force from his chest and face, but he still lands hard. The
Doctor swallows up a grimace, pushing himself to the side
and rolling back to his feet.
“What’s th’ style?” he asks after a moment, circling her
slowly as he watches for an opening. “It’s not Venusian,
that’s for sure.”
“Neptonian,” Romana confirms, “I studied there on my… down
time.” Her gaze was sharp, piercing, following his path and making
sure to keep him at least at arms length. “I thought a nice offensive
style would be the best way to see your Venusian at work. I could
always scale it down a little if you find it a bit much. Like I said: I
certainly wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Even with her arm numb, she
was still a touch on the smug side.
Do I? [ Her brows lift. ] Can you show me, Nikola?
”Oh, I just meant— whoa!”
The Doctor barely raises his arm in time to block
her strike, and a sloppy block it was, making his
arm burn for a moment as he took a few steps
back. He shook it out, eying her up a bit more
"I just meant—" he lunges at her, quick and nimble,
jabbing at a pressure point on her shoulder, “ye’ve
been wearin’ that body longer than I’ve been wearin’
Romana tried not to appear smug and triumphant,
at the clumsy block, retreating back a step to give
him room to recover. She found the whole experience
incredibly exhilarating, but there was no time to revel
in her small, short-lived victory. He was a lot faster
than she had anticipated. She had secretly hoped that
his reflexes hadn’t quite yet reset from regeneration.
”Indeed I ha — ” The sentence is cut short, the quick jab
makes contact, numbing the entirety of her right arm. She
knew that the paralysis would wear off within the next five
to ten minutes - but she didn’t have that luxury. Using his close
proximity to her advantage, her leg sweeps out, hoping
to throw him off balance - or better yet: knock him off his feet.