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Date: 2011-10-01 02:12 am (UTC)
Okay.

[She shuffles closer to the Master and puts one hand to each cheek, cupping his face gently with her eyes closed in concentration. The strong love like a warm glow from him flows over her until she can feel the ties, the strings coming from him and threading through the ground, the wind, the open air and tying back to the object of those affections (twisted and blackened, under the fog of the event). Reaching out with her power she can feel them tie back into that one man, that man who was roiling smoke behind fogged glass, a riot of love under the thinnest veneer of artificial, transient hate- the Doctor. Oh, Doctor; it's a struggle (that the Master can surely feel in how her temperature, already warmer than a human's, skyrockets until her hands feel feverish and burning) to break through that fogged glass at first. The thin sheen of hatred and darkness drawn over him is tough and powerful, but when she breaks through to his true self beneath, she openly laughs in relief at the unending tide of love she finds there.

Really, it's astonishing.

Sonja opens her eyes slowly, not quite letting go of the Time Lord as her temperature drops again and her breathing slows.]


I can feel it. [The twisted, complicated feelings soaked through in pain, resentment, and a hardened ruthlessness around the one essential truth that she chooses to tell him. No need to tell him about the dark things.] He does love you.
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The Master

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