OPEN RP FOR ANYBODY (RP topic from oncoming_storms)

[rude_not_ginger]

You have picked up a distress signal, and followed it to a hotel in London. All you are able to determine is that it is coming from someplace inside the hotel, and is not terrestrial in origin. What will you do? What will you find at the other end of the signal?

"But I've found a...oh, nevermind."

The receptionist was exceptionally unhelpful, so the Doctor darted down the hallways of the hotel, knocking on doors. One of them would be the person who sent the distress signal.





OOC: Open to all. Any universe, any time. If you want to have your pup be in this hotel and answer the door, just go for it! I won't be up toooooooo much later this evening, but I won't leave anybody hanging, I'll catch you asap tomorrow afternoon!

Comments

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor turns his head in the direction of the fire escape, "Where does it go, though? The fire escape? You could always try to run."

That's the Doctor, always thinking about running.

He turns back to the drawing man.

"Have you?"

[prophecyinpaint.livejournal.com]

"It goes to the Gallery. And the Gallery doesn't end. Just takes you back to the entrance eventually. I've tried escaping."

Isaac stands up and moves to one of the stacks, pulling through canvases until he finds what he wants and slides it over.

Burnt umber sky. Silver trees. In the distance, a vast tower under a great, shimmering bubble.

"The traveller. With too many life times." Blind eyes distinctly watch him.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor stares at the painting for a long, long moment before he speaks. His fingers touch the silver paint of the leaves----it had been so long, so long since he'd seen them in anything but his mind's eye.

"How did you do this?" he asks, "This is...impossible."

Not a word he enjoys using, but it's appropriate, especially for this.

[prophecyinpaint.livejournal.com]

"It's what I do." He really isn't sure how else to put it beyond that. But he should probably try. "I have a- I dunno. Power? Ability? Gift? Curse? I see things. Used to just be the future, but then I started to learn more. Started to see the threads and chase them. And then more stuff happened, which was bad, and I was here. And here, I paint. Whether I want to or not."

He pulls out a marker from a pocket and signs his name in the corner and holds it out, white eyes meeting the Doctor's if he'll glance up. "Take it. It's yours."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor takes the painting, still flabbergasted. He looks up to Isaac's white eyes, and feels a shiver run down his spine. It was so odd, seeing those blank eyes look back at him.

"There's a way out," he says, "How I got in. It'll take you to London, in the middle of a very posh, very snobby hotel, but it's out of here."

[prophecyinpaint.livejournal.com]

Isaac smiles sadly and shakes his head. "Not for me it doesn't. It never leads out. There is no out. Only people to ever get in are you, Hana and Sylar once, but he might have been a hallucination."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

So he is trapped. The Doctor feels a sudden, intense sympathy for the man before him. He knows what it's like to feel that way.

"Here..." he reaches into his pocket and produces a cell phone. It's not the one Martha is supposed to call him on, it's the one he used to use for UNIT calls only.

"Take this. If I can get in here once, I'm sure I can get a signal in, too. I'll figure out a way to get you out, I promise."

[prophecyinpaint.livejournal.com]

Isaac blinks again and the eyes that glance between the Doctor and the phone are dark again. "I- thank you."

He doesn't have any idea who he'd call. But it's nice to have options.

"I don't have anywhere to go, but thanks. I'm not meant to exist really anymore. I'm dead."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor took a step forward, and poked the other man in the shoulder.

"Corporeal, though?

[prophecyinpaint.livejournal.com]

"Ow." It's halfhearted. Certain, poking him you poke bone and muscle and skin. "Corporeal means solid, right?"