0092. Exposé. [video]
[When the video feed blips in, the room is dark, but not invisible: he's moved his little lamp that could to the far end of the desk where it won't bother him for the moment. Behind him, the silhouette of the open TARDIS door can be made out, but no light comes from behind it. He leans on the desktop, hands folded primly before him. Whether there are circles under his eyes or simply a trick of the dim light is difficult to discern, and far beneath his notice. With a throat-clearing cough, he begins.]
First, and for what it may be worth, I'm so very sorry. What happened was horrible, and could have been prevented, and there's nothing for it now, and no amount of apology will make amends. I know. But it still stands.
[Deep breath.] You're a wolf in a pack, or perhaps a bird in a flock. Pick something relevant to you, I suppose. Instinct, rank and habit drive you; you're happy enough without needing to know it. Your group disappears for no reason, and you're left bound in a pit with your strand of the resonance ripped from your mind. Panic ensues, and you call for help. Or, alternatively, you're suddenly made to watch as a predator, or perhaps a poacher, descends upon the lot and slaughters them brutally, leaving you shocked and covered in the blood of your f... group. Panic ensues, and you turn on the attacker, given nothing left to lose. Contrary to popular belief, I do understand the mechanics and emotions of each scenario, far more than I'm comfortable recalling.
[He reaches off screen for a moment to retrieve a mug of tea, still steaming, and sips from it. It lands with a little clatter which, from a man well versed in tea and a steady hand, might be a bit odd.]
To explain: I never granted her a power, and if I had, it wouldn't have mattered. Anyone who's done a fair bit of research would know that in pantheonic forces of nature, only those versed in fire can call down fire. Those who bring storms will call down the lightning, and those versed in charisma will call down acquiescence. As far as I know, the Admiral doesn't cut the tongue out of a man for that basic and non-celestial talent. Perhaps it's why we have yet to acquire Hitler.
[He doesn't sound sarcastic, or even the least bit irritated: rather, he sounds resigned, and surprisingly remorseful.]
We all fall victim to charisma at one point or another, for good or bad intent. I'm no better. Distracted by memories of those I call family, I acquiesced when she asked me to let her speak to hers. She seemed given to depression; I thought she would talk to those who made her happy, rather than those who demanded a debt. [Wry smile.] That's what humans do, anyway.
[He holds up a hand as if to stave off argument.]
I should have known better, and now I do. I won't let it happen again. As I believe I've stated at least once elsewhere, her punishment is being seen to as well. It is, however, at my discretion alone, and I rather wish not to discuss it. My business here is my ward; I'm confident in my abilities and choice of method. The zero level isn't the only option there is, for those who would ask, and honestly, it isn't a proper punishment at all for one who spends their life incapacitated. Nor is execution much of an impact on a god whose cyclic business it is to be killed, or dead, on a regular basis... within a prison where death has little more meaning than a few days of agony, as I've been told time and again despite my own beliefs. I've never been fond of that, anyway.
[By now, his head is propped on the heel of his palm by the temple, and somewhere along the line, he's stopped looking nearly as prim as he did in the beginning.]
I'll be more than happy to listen to anything you've got to say at this point... any of you. But please don't take offence if I accept your discussion with a grain of salt, nor if you speak now and I fail to answer for a short while. It's been nearly thr... [Right. Humans mostly, and different sleep cycles. Never mind.] I believe I'm due for a nap. [And then, a tint more cheerfully:] Once I'm fit to return to the library, I'll also be happy to offer stories, advice and reading recommendations in any culture you'd like to find there. Theology in particular is something of a passion of mine, in fact, and it seems that actually might prove quite useful now. Good evening.
[Click. And then, moments later, in audio:]
[Filter: those he's spoken to in the past couple of days (sans the Marquis)]
Thank you. All of you, begrudgingly including my knights errant. [Four :| but he sounds good-natured about that anyway.] I can't properly express how grateful I am, at least not at the moment... I look forward to seeing every single one of you. Perhaps we ought to orchestrate a high tea of some sort. I haven't attended one of those in quite some time; it would be fun. [Yeeeah, he sounds too pleased by this to be entirely lucid.] Err... goodnight.
(backdated to before this entry, ha!)
[Private: Admiral]
Please restore the functionality of her communicator, but disable private or filtered communications on it. Please send an alert to my item if she attempts to go on deck or into the Enclosure without my supervision.
[Warden notice (replies to this notice disabled for retcon purposes)]
Coyolxauhqui is not to be allowed on deck, and not to be allowed into the Enclosure without my express supervision. Please see that she doesn't follow you, in the rare event that she may be in the vicinity to begin with. Thank you.