text | un: m.cabrera

[naloxone]

[ turns out? space doesn't give a single fuck about your circadian rhythm. or maybe insomnia is just that attached to her that even the absence of a sun dictating her internal clock doesn't faze it, like an old friend you wish would just forget you already.

one night (?) late into the early hours (???) marta finds herself drifting out of the room she's come to assume will be hers for the indefinite future, passing through stark white walls with all the sterility of a hospital, but none of its familiar chaos.

she's still getting used to the earpiece. still getting used to hearing other people's voices in her head. she doesn't mean to add another in the void, but one of her own thoughts blares out too vividly as she stares out into an actual void: ]

—but where are the stars?

Comments

[naloxone]

[ micro...wave. i see what you did there. ]

So long as I'm not going to incite a civil war...

[attackbrows]

You won’t find any warzones here. Not here, not ever. Not even for the last droplet of milk.

[He takes on a semi-serious tone, ending the word milk with an extra click of his tongue.]>

Storage unit closet inside the lab. C’mon then Little Miss Frosted Flakes!

--> ackshunnn

[naloxone]

[ the lab is one of the few places marta has yet to wander into. curiosity hadn't yet been strong enough to take her where she figured she would find her way there eventually, one day, anyway and — here she is. for popcorn, of all things.

her footsteps are quiet upon entering, and the panning glance she gives is drawn out so she can take the lab in its entirety. save for a few objects that look like they were pulled right out of a science fiction novel, and an odd hum that she can't pinpoint the source of, it all looks remarkably plain. almost eerily so.

she pads her way over to the storage closet, taking the time to give the door a knock before giving it a gentle push. ]

Doctor— [ what was his username again? ] ...Disco?

[attackbrows]

[In true “Grandpa lives inside of the storage closet” fashion, the Doctor approaches Marta from behind. Carrying an electric guitar over his shoulder while scooping the final bits of his red jello cup.

His approach is much less quiet than Marta’s.]

Please, only mummy calls me Doctor Disco. Just call me the Doctor.

[naloxone]

[ she doesn't even hear his approach, which is definitely saying something since it's not like he's tackling that jello cup very gracefully. so of course she jumps, whirls around, stares longer than is polite and fixates on the one thing he says she can relate to. ]

Just — Doctor? Medical or academic?

1/2

[attackbrows]

[ Hold that thought, Marta. The Doctor just needs to finish—

S L U R P I N G THE JELLO OUT. ]

[attackbrows]

[ Okay. Now we’re good. ]

The original one.

[naloxone]

[naloxone]

[ okay see now you can't just say stuff like that to someone who is so far past the point knowing what is and isn't real anymore that everything could well be a possibility— ]

The... first Doctor ever?

[attackbrows]

[Too bad his entire M.O. is to be a time-travelling cryptic goblin.]

The definitive one, you might say.

[He extends his arm to prop the closet door wide open. Don’t be weird, Marta. Step into his office.]

Question is: Who’s the girl looking for the stars?

[naloxone]

That's the straightest answer you're going to give me, isn't it?

[ she sighs, defeated and resigned, but it's far too late for guessing games now. one would think she'd be a little more wary stepping into a small, dark space with a deflecting stranger, but what's he going to do? hit her over the head with his guitar?



...no really, what's he going to do? ]

Marta. Not the original, not the definitive. Just another person hoping to clean up a mess back home.

[ to put it mildly. she blinks into the shadows. ]

Why are we in a closet, again?