To start: "As ever, a wealth of knowledge, my friend."
Though the Doctor has gathered what he could of their party's history before he'd arrived, hearing about it and actually living through it are two separate things, and he values Wrathion's wisdom in this. He's been correct on more than one occasion. That he's cautious in both suggestions also serves to trouble the Doctor less. Whether either option is truly viable, he's careful in his approach, not gone mad with any sort of power or authority like many have before, in the Doctor's experience.
"Obviously we need to know more about all the aforementioned artefacts, and not only as it pertains to Irenia. Stating the obvious, of course."
Fidgeting as they speak, the Doctor laces his fingers together, back and forth a few times.
"Dear girl...she didn't ask to be raised from the dead. She was gone and it was over. Peaceful, one presumes. As peaceful as death can be. I wouldn't know." His own deaths have hardly been peaceful, but he imagines there's a peace in knowing that one might at last be able to rest. "Then she was brought back and used against her will. What's there for her at the end of all this?"
His voice is more distant, eyes troubled, not looking at Wrathion for the moment. A part of him can't help recalling the Star Whale, that beautiful creature who was the last of its kind. So much like himself. Death will come for the Doctor eventually, but it won't be over. As he's learned from Clara now, he gets another go at it, and he'd started accepting that would be the end at last.
Death would be a gift. Words that haunted him once, for the way they sat in his hearts, the way it felt to imagine there might be an end to the loneliness.
They can save Irenia from remaining tethered to their party, and they should, but what happens to her after that? When she's left alone? It's rare in his travels that he has time to ponder these questions; he saves the day and moves on quite quickly. He's quiet for a long moment, longer than he should be, longer than he generally is. And he catches himself, leveling a darkened gaze back at Wrathion.
"Tethered to a different source of power with either option, is that freedom? Happiness? Will she resent it? It should, of course, all be her choice. She's been given very little of that at all, it seems. So long as she remains happy and content, truly, we'll find a way."
no subject
Though the Doctor has gathered what he could of their party's history before he'd arrived, hearing about it and actually living through it are two separate things, and he values Wrathion's wisdom in this. He's been correct on more than one occasion. That he's cautious in both suggestions also serves to trouble the Doctor less. Whether either option is truly viable, he's careful in his approach, not gone mad with any sort of power or authority like many have before, in the Doctor's experience.
"Obviously we need to know more about all the aforementioned artefacts, and not only as it pertains to Irenia. Stating the obvious, of course."
Fidgeting as they speak, the Doctor laces his fingers together, back and forth a few times.
"Dear girl...she didn't ask to be raised from the dead. She was gone and it was over. Peaceful, one presumes. As peaceful as death can be. I wouldn't know." His own deaths have hardly been peaceful, but he imagines there's a peace in knowing that one might at last be able to rest. "Then she was brought back and used against her will. What's there for her at the end of all this?"
His voice is more distant, eyes troubled, not looking at Wrathion for the moment. A part of him can't help recalling the Star Whale, that beautiful creature who was the last of its kind. So much like himself. Death will come for the Doctor eventually, but it won't be over. As he's learned from Clara now, he gets another go at it, and he'd started accepting that would be the end at last.
Death would be a gift. Words that haunted him once, for the way they sat in his hearts, the way it felt to imagine there might be an end to the loneliness.
They can save Irenia from remaining tethered to their party, and they should, but what happens to her after that? When she's left alone? It's rare in his travels that he has time to ponder these questions; he saves the day and moves on quite quickly. He's quiet for a long moment, longer than he should be, longer than he generally is. And he catches himself, leveling a darkened gaze back at Wrathion.
"Tethered to a different source of power with either option, is that freedom? Happiness? Will she resent it? It should, of course, all be her choice. She's been given very little of that at all, it seems. So long as she remains happy and content, truly, we'll find a way."