im_thedoctor (im_thedoctor) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-05-28 19:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | clara oswald, eleventh doctor |
Who: Troy and Clara
Where: Their place
When: Mid-May (week one of Hellmouth plot)
What: The Doctor and Clara discuss the dreams, oh and he's getting more Doctory.
Rating: Low
Status: Complete!
Troy’s mind was a jumbled mess, filled with so many notes and thoughts and … feelings. So many feelings. Everything felt weird, his chest felt tight and his heart had been feeling like it was beating twice as fast in the past few weeks; enough so that he’d actually gone to a doctor, without telling Clara of course, to get it checked out. Everything was fine, of course, so he didn’t feel the need to tell Clara where he’d been.
Instead, Troy had been trying to move on with life as if it were normal; yet, instead, it wasn’t. In class he was incapable of remaining focused, talking about things in the stories that just went wild with conjecture, his mind never seeming to hold still. The students loved it of course, and the discussions had become lively and entertaining, but he’d made some of the staffers a bit ticked off considering he’d stopped giving out tests, finding them exhausting and unnecessary.
Sleep had become something of a foregone device; a couple hours here or there were grabbed, but always he came back even more recharged, and tonight was no different. Late into the evening, and Troy was up and moving through the kitchen with an exhausting array of motion. The place was a mess with pots and pans everywhere, drawers and cupboards thrown open, and things were laid out on the floor. One such thing was a long cable leading back towards the garage, and this cable was lying near the center of the kitchen where devices were being placed.
There was an upside down lawnmower on the floor, attached to several rakes and shovels or other such sticks, all sticking straight up and wrapped together in electrical tape; from them were broomsticks, a couple of golf clubs, and traffic cones on the end of them. A battery was on the table, well three batteries, each being strapped together with a central power core.
Troy, himself, was moving around the device before reaching into one of the cupboards and pulling out a metal strainer, spinning it in hand, and then plopping it onto the top of his head, twisting in place as he moved, “No no no… still missing something, a thing, an important thing…”