This was all fine and dandy, only he couldn't feel his hands. He had to look to make sure they were still there and even as he saw his fingers move about he wasn't entirely convinced. But at least he was back with the Master and, perhaps even more importantly, it was a break from the endless boredom. He just had to do this right this time, because he'd rather avoid this ending anything like last.
"Hey. How are you?" He shifted as much as possible, which really wasn't very. He just hoped his nose wouldn't start itching. Of course, as soon as he'd thought about it it infallibly did. Damn it. "Overdoing it a bit, don't you think? Skinny guy like me, I'm not that much of a threat."
"Anyone is a threat given the right opportunity. You don't strike me as harmless," it was obvious by how much distance was put between them just how Marcus felt about the Doctor. Last time they'd spoken, he'd said things he couldn't of known or understood. That lead him to believe this man was either a conman or had some kind of supernatural gift. Perhaps he was a seer or mind reader? He didn't know. Though either of those could be just as handy to him as a doctor.
"What do you know of the drums?" Marcus asked bluntly, not moving any closer, just watching the Doctor unblinkingly, not even moving to engage him any better. He just wanted answers before he decided on what to do. If he got the wrongs ones, he was going to think of a fittingly slow and painful death for this man. If he got the right ones? Maybe just a slow and painful punishment. "No more double talk or strange words, Doctor. I'm warning you now, I have little patience today."
Oh yeah. That question. Didn't seem to matter whether he was fobwatched or not, it all too often boiled down to this. "I know that you hear them." That much he did actually believe. He decided to leave out the part where he thought that the Master only heard them as a sign of his ever increasing madness. No need to delve into that, after all, not really. "I know that sometimes they pain you. I don't know where they come from or what they mean."
He glanced down at his hands again. "Er. Also, I think my blood flow's restricted."
But how did he know that? He couldn't know that. They were private, he'd only ever told his doctors and they were all dead now. With a confused frown, he tentatively approached this strange magical man who knew so much he shouldn't. Debating it for a moment, he pulled the knife he kept hidden under his robes and held it up in display. He could easily kill this man as quick as he could unleash him.
"How do you know? Why won't you explain anything? You just say things, you never back them up."
He wasn't releasing the Doctor until he knew more. How could he trust someone who simply guessed accurately what afflictions had plagued him all his life? And why should he free him anyway? He was rude, disrespectful and clearly had to learn his place. He was only alive because Marcus was curious.
"Careful with that, those things are really sharp, you know?" The Doctor kept his eyes on the knife, just in case, holding still and trying to reach for the right words. "My explanation wouldn't make a lot of sense to you." But he didn't really want to spin an elaborate tale either. Damn this. "The thing is, Master, in another life, you and I knew each other." He'd have to be careful here. Too many details and he'd make his head hurt worse again.
"I know because you told me. You wanted me to know. And I want to help. I still do. Because I remember."
It was insane. Truly insane. Marcus couldn't help but laugh because why would anyone say something so mad? He only had one life, one existence and this was it. This man was clearly trying to con him into something and while he had to applaud the effort, he didn't buy it. With the laughter dying down, he dropped onto the lowest step he could opposite the Doctor, knife dangling in his hands. The smile on his face wasn't a nice one.
"Whipped, I think. I'm going with whipping. As punishment for these lies and your bold defiance of authority. I would normally kill you but you amused me so," Marcus informed him bluntly. He had a very dull life a lot of the time, most of it was pressure and stress. He wanted to have a laugh every now and again. And besides, at least he believed the drums were real. So maybe he could help. "How does 20 strikes sound? I would say more but you might lose too much blood. 20 works. Then, after that, you can come assist me. Or amuse me. Either one. Depends how much maddening nonsense you have left to share."
At the word 'whipped' the Doctor's face froze and then he tried to struggle, which was about as effective as he'd have imagined. He knew that he shouldn't actually show anything akin to fear, that had only ever encouraged, but... Whipping? That was just brutal. He blinked twice as he glanced to the side, trying to think of the best way to talk himself out of this one. "I'd rather no strikes at all, if it's all the same to you. And I promise, I have as much maddening nonsense to share as you want to hear. Probably quite a bit more. I'm a fund of maddening nonsense."
"I'm sorry but I have made my mind up. And once it's done, it's done," Marcus insisted as he slipped his knife back away and approached the struggling Doctor with a small raise of his eyebrow. Maybe, however, he could use this looming threat as a way to better understand this strange man and his strange ways. "I'm willing to make a deal to lighten your punishment, however."
Oh yes, he was quite the business man. After all, he wouldn't negate the punishment, it had to be done and he wanted it done. Publicly too, he had to warn his other slaves to avoid being half as daring as he was. "I will make it fifteen strikes if you tell me a name. A real name, not 'the doctor'. It's a title, not a name. And I'm willing to bargain it down to 12 if you will tell me just where you come from. And real answers, please. Not more mad nonsense."
A name. What was it with everyone's obsession with knowing his name? As if it mattered at all. The Doctor took a deep breath, lying smoothly. "Johnicus Smithius. John for short." There were many reasons why he'd not tell the Master the name Theta Sigma, so he didn't even consider it. Now, telling him where he's from, that was a different matter. Entirely more complicated in some ways. However, on the other hand.
"I'm from Gaul." Close enough. "Never really took to the climate though. And it's much too organized. I really think I prefer Rome and its chaos to the more civilized countries."
Didn't sound like a real name but it was real enough to not have to call him doctor every time they greeted each other. John was an interesting man too, he didn't need him getting bleeding to death accidentally from a whipping so the less he got hit, probably the better. His newest torturer always hit a little harder than needed. With a deep frown, he tried to recall if he knew of Gaul.
But he didn't want to seem ignorant so he merely nodded his head, pretending that everything was fine. He'd check later. For whatever reason, he'd never been astounding at the geography of this planet. It did baffle him at times. "Very good, I accept both answers. That's twelve strikes now. Now, I can round it down to an even ten if I must."
Pulling himself to his feet, he smirked playfully as he watched the Doctor. "Get on your knees and swear yourself to me and I'll make it ten. And I'll ask my expert whipper to try not to remove all the skin from your back."
...was he kidding him? The Doctor glanced up at the Master and raised an eyebrow. Probably not. Some things apparently never changed. Alright, how far did his pride go? Too far, he knew, mornfully wishing he could keep the skin on his back. Entirely too far. This wasn't something he'd ever do, not when the only thing at risk was his own safety. But sometimes it really would be awfully convenient to be just a bit more of a coward.
"Oh, well," he said instead with a slight shrug and a pleasant smile. "Twelve it is then! When are we doing this?"
"No? Was that a no? Well, isn't that unfortunate. There's an extra strike penalty so I'm afraid that's actually thirteen," Marcus shot back childishly because he rather hated when people were stubborn like that. And besides, he was very willing to see just what it would take to get the Doctor to actually do it. After five strikes, he was sure he'd have John curled up weeping in pain. Or more he desired to see that at least.
"I will be generous, however. If at any point during the punishment you wish to stop at ten, you're allowed to ask permission to stop and kneel in front of me, swearing yourself. If not, we'll keep going," Marcus moved towards the Doctor, grabbing his coat and forcefully hauling him up and onto his feet. "We will start after lunch. I do love a little afternoon entertainment."
"Thirteen. Lucky number." Or not so much. He was slightly shaky on his legs, almost asking whether 'after lunch' actually meant that he'd get lunch. However, then he realized the likelihood of him being able to keep whatever lunch down after a vigorous whipping was rather low, so he decided not to ask and keep being hungry instead. He wondered if there was anything he could do to just not get punished, but he'd never been any good at that.
"Thank you ever so. That's all very generous of you."
"Guards!" Marcus called out over the Doctor's thanks, holding him still till two very large and armed men arrived to grab a hold of the Doctor. With a bright grin, Marcus reached out and patted John's face, clearly much happier now they'd had this talk. "Get this one ready. After dinner, he'll be whipped 13 times."
Then, with a slight moment of thought, he cocked his head to the side and inspected the Doctor. "I suppose afterwards you can bind his arms and leave him in my room. I still have to finish our discussion." And, with that, Marcus retreated from the room, eager to find out what was going to be lunch today.
Getting his arms bound behind himself after a whipping really was unnecessary cruel. He was glad that his back had been treated and bandaged at least, definitely more than most people here got. That was what pained him more than anything right now anyway, even as he laid on his stomach with his back feeling raw and on fire. All those others and he could do nothing to help him.
He had to find a way to fix this. Somehow. As soon as he managed to move without ripping his back open again.
When Marcus finally arrived, he was certainly in good spirits. And more than a little later than he said he'd be when he originally had the Doctor sent ahead. He was only somewhat drunk on all the wine he'd had post the execution of that rather poor cook who'd served them such a foul lunch. He always did like to make torture and execution into a bit of a party, it made it so much more fun than just sombrely watching people suffer. Looking down at the Doctor, he tutted and bent down, slicing the ropes free with his knife, just so they were no longer bound behind his back.
"I did say tie them in front," Marcus complained as he sat on the floor besides is injured new acquaintance, a small playful and almost mocking frown on his face. "I really did think you'd kneel at ten. I was very disappointed, you should know that. Most people don't live if they disappoint their master like that."
The Doctor stretched his arms, carefully, then slowly tried to sit up without starting to cry out in pain or something equally embarrassing. He really wanted to be anywhere else but here, but right now he tried to focus on the small comforts, like the fact that he was actually unbound for the first time since he got here. Hurrah.
"I always keep standing as long as I can." Something the Master would know, but the Roman bloke here... Well, he could learn. It didn't surprise him how happy the Master was after witnessing torture, but it would always horrify him. Always hurt his hearts.
"I noticed it, I do admire it in you," Marcus confessed as he reached out and grasped the Doctor's arm, helping him to sit up without accidentally pulling his skin off the back. The last thing he needed was blood everywhere. The Doctor had impressed him, taking his punishment so boldly. And maybe it was all the wine talking but he was awfully attractive when all hurt and subdued. A great improvement on that rambling moron. Though he did rather like his fanciful tales that made zero sense.
"That's why you get to live. You're the sort of man I like and respect. A very rare thing," Marcus hauled himself upright, clambering over the Doctor's unsteady sitting form to get to his bed, dropping onto the plush and pleasant mattress with a contented sigh. "If you're capable of actually moving, you can come on the bed."
"I don't think coming on the bed is happening, in any sense." For one thing, the bed was entirely too far away. He already regretted even having wanted to sit up, if he was quite honest. But he couldn't really afford to show too much weakness to a fobwatched Master, not under any circumstances as long as he could help it. It couldn't lead anywhere good, not with the Master being like this.
"I think everyone deserves respect. Every living thing." Somehow everything always boiled down to the same arguments between them.
"Nonsense. A lowly plebeian toiler has nothing on a ruler like myself. I would deserve more respect, I am vastly more important," Marcus insisted with a frown on his face, entirely baffled by this liberal nonsense. In what universe did everyone deserve respect? Certainly not his. With a sulking expression, the Master rolled to the edge of the bed, head just hanging over it as he glared at the Doctor. He didn't seem in the playing mood now, what with the injury and all. So he supposed they only had talking.
"You can't honestly tell me everyone deserves respect, that's just nonsense. And not just everyone, wasn't it? Every thing. Like animals? Plants? Now that's definitely stupid."
"Of course they do. If it weren't for them we'd all starve and, well. Suffocate, to be honest, which isn't really what anyone wants. It's all part of the circle of life." The Doctor frowned for a moment, then his face cleared up as he remembered. Right, The Lion King! Of course, that's what he was thinking of. He'd really have to watch that again when he got back to the TARDIS.
"You could have been born someone else. What would that make you then, unimportant? It'd still be you." He paused for a moment, but in the end he smiled. "I'd still think you important."
"I wasn't born anywhere else, I was born here. This is who I am, I have only one life, one set of parents and one name," Marcus felt he had to reassert that because for whatever reason, the Doctor made him feel nervous on the matter. The way he kept questioning him like this, it was unsettling. "It's not a proper argument, I am here now and that's all that matters. And I am more important than those poor uneducated fools."
He did, however, pause at that last bit. It was strange, this man seemed to disapprove of him yet ... almost like him. And he wasn't sure what to do with that. Why was this odd man so hard to understand. "You'd think I was important even if I was the poorest in all of the kingdom? John, if you believe that then you are clearly mad."
"Well, then maybe I just might be mad. You're important because of who you are, not what you are. Whether you're rich, poor or absolutely uneducated." The Doctor folded his legs and shifted a little, mindful of his back. It was the kind of thing that was hard to forget. "And even someone stupid, poor and ignorant matters, in the very grand scheme and in the small one, because every person stands at the center of their own universe. There's a lot of beauty in that."
"No there isn't," Marcus said bluntly as he rolled himself off his bed and landed beside the Doctor, not impressed that his new toy was being so boring. With a sigh, he purposefully came in front of the Doctor, almost crawling into his lap. He only resisted because he didn't want to risk knocking him over. They were either going to have an interesting conversation or fuck. One or the other. But he didn't spare this ones life for a lecture. "Tell me something interesting. Something fun! I don't care who's equal or who's special. Only I am in here! So amuse me."
Truth was, he almost expected the Master to crawl into his lap, but he relaxed when he stopped in front of him, catching his eyes and... Well. Then the talking somehow just happened. "Do you like looking at the sky, Master? All those stars. Every single one of them with a story to tell and some of them with their own people living on them, looking up at their sky from somewhere else entirely." He wet his lips before he continued, but didn't take the time to overthink it. "Have you ever imagined a sky with two suns in it?"
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"Hey. How are you?" He shifted as much as possible, which really wasn't very. He just hoped his nose wouldn't start itching. Of course, as soon as he'd thought about it it infallibly did. Damn it. "Overdoing it a bit, don't you think? Skinny guy like me, I'm not that much of a threat."
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"What do you know of the drums?" Marcus asked bluntly, not moving any closer, just watching the Doctor unblinkingly, not even moving to engage him any better. He just wanted answers before he decided on what to do. If he got the wrongs ones, he was going to think of a fittingly slow and painful death for this man. If he got the right ones? Maybe just a slow and painful punishment. "No more double talk or strange words, Doctor. I'm warning you now, I have little patience today."
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He glanced down at his hands again. "Er. Also, I think my blood flow's restricted."
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"How do you know? Why won't you explain anything? You just say things, you never back them up."
He wasn't releasing the Doctor until he knew more. How could he trust someone who simply guessed accurately what afflictions had plagued him all his life? And why should he free him anyway? He was rude, disrespectful and clearly had to learn his place. He was only alive because Marcus was curious.
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"I know because you told me. You wanted me to know. And I want to help. I still do. Because I remember."
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"Whipped, I think. I'm going with whipping. As punishment for these lies and your bold defiance of authority. I would normally kill you but you amused me so," Marcus informed him bluntly. He had a very dull life a lot of the time, most of it was pressure and stress. He wanted to have a laugh every now and again. And besides, at least he believed the drums were real. So maybe he could help. "How does 20 strikes sound? I would say more but you might lose too much blood. 20 works. Then, after that, you can come assist me. Or amuse me. Either one. Depends how much maddening nonsense you have left to share."
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Oh yes, he was quite the business man. After all, he wouldn't negate the punishment, it had to be done and he wanted it done. Publicly too, he had to warn his other slaves to avoid being half as daring as he was. "I will make it fifteen strikes if you tell me a name. A real name, not 'the doctor'. It's a title, not a name. And I'm willing to bargain it down to 12 if you will tell me just where you come from. And real answers, please. Not more mad nonsense."
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"I'm from Gaul." Close enough. "Never really took to the climate though. And it's much too organized. I really think I prefer Rome and its chaos to the more civilized countries."
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But he didn't want to seem ignorant so he merely nodded his head, pretending that everything was fine. He'd check later. For whatever reason, he'd never been astounding at the geography of this planet. It did baffle him at times. "Very good, I accept both answers. That's twelve strikes now. Now, I can round it down to an even ten if I must."
Pulling himself to his feet, he smirked playfully as he watched the Doctor. "Get on your knees and swear yourself to me and I'll make it ten. And I'll ask my expert whipper to try not to remove all the skin from your back."
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"Oh, well," he said instead with a slight shrug and a pleasant smile. "Twelve it is then! When are we doing this?"
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"I will be generous, however. If at any point during the punishment you wish to stop at ten, you're allowed to ask permission to stop and kneel in front of me, swearing yourself. If not, we'll keep going," Marcus moved towards the Doctor, grabbing his coat and forcefully hauling him up and onto his feet. "We will start after lunch. I do love a little afternoon entertainment."
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"Thank you ever so. That's all very generous of you."
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Then, with a slight moment of thought, he cocked his head to the side and inspected the Doctor. "I suppose afterwards you can bind his arms and leave him in my room. I still have to finish our discussion." And, with that, Marcus retreated from the room, eager to find out what was going to be lunch today.
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He had to find a way to fix this. Somehow. As soon as he managed to move without ripping his back open again.
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"I did say tie them in front," Marcus complained as he sat on the floor besides is injured new acquaintance, a small playful and almost mocking frown on his face. "I really did think you'd kneel at ten. I was very disappointed, you should know that. Most people don't live if they disappoint their master like that."
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"I always keep standing as long as I can." Something the Master would know, but the Roman bloke here... Well, he could learn. It didn't surprise him how happy the Master was after witnessing torture, but it would always horrify him. Always hurt his hearts.
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"That's why you get to live. You're the sort of man I like and respect. A very rare thing," Marcus hauled himself upright, clambering over the Doctor's unsteady sitting form to get to his bed, dropping onto the plush and pleasant mattress with a contented sigh. "If you're capable of actually moving, you can come on the bed."
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"I think everyone deserves respect. Every living thing." Somehow everything always boiled down to the same arguments between them.
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"You can't honestly tell me everyone deserves respect, that's just nonsense. And not just everyone, wasn't it? Every thing. Like animals? Plants? Now that's definitely stupid."
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"You could have been born someone else. What would that make you then, unimportant? It'd still be you." He paused for a moment, but in the end he smiled. "I'd still think you important."
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He did, however, pause at that last bit. It was strange, this man seemed to disapprove of him yet ... almost like him. And he wasn't sure what to do with that. Why was this odd man so hard to understand. "You'd think I was important even if I was the poorest in all of the kingdom? John, if you believe that then you are clearly mad."
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