SheikahWarrior

Between the face And its reflection ‘Twixt the dream And its inception Falls the Lie                                   Our Father, who art in Heaven Between the twilight And the waking ‘Twixt the longing And the taking Falls the Lie                                              Give him a mask Between the reason And delusion ‘Twixt the truth And the confusion Between the spark And the illusion Falls the Lie                                   Our Father, who art in Heaven Our Father, Give him a mask Our Father… For this is Mankind’s story Between the fable And the glory Falls the lie.

 “This isn’t exactly what I imagined when you suggested ‘fighting across the constellations.’” The Master said, gazing out at the broad expanse of universe surrounding them. The two Time Lords lay suspended in the TARDIS’ protection field, on an asteroid, a few scorch marks its final testimony to the planet it had burst from only moments ago. In the light of the supernova they talked like old friends and old enemies, because what's the need for titles after all they had been through? They were themselves, and each other, and the last. The Master turned. “Why did you do it?” Images of The Doctor racing

Rain pounded the pavement in hard, wet drops; not a playful summer shower, no, not this. This was harsh, stinging, biting rain, without relent, without forgiveness. This was the rain that stuck hair to your face and made you feel soaked and abandoned, hopeless and alone. Matt never minded the rain. Matt was nothing; He was a shell. Lost, adrift, empty- floating dimly through a wasteland of disenchantment, barely taking any of it in, barely even there. A sharp mind, a quick wit with no purpose, no destination. Dark goggles shrouded apathetic eyes, just another barrier between himself and the world, himself and caring. A long drag of a cigar