((Due to the limitations of HTML, telepathic dialogue is indicated in italics, whereas translated dialogue is in square brackets instead of the usual comicbook arrow brackets.))
*Carter(masked) leads Rassilon into this quiet, secluded sideroom. Thankfully, soft jazz does not begin to play.* Sit, Lord...?
*Rassilon glad of that. Soft jazz is really not what he needs at the moment. He sits, a bit twitchily.* Ah... nh. *Breathe, idiot. Breathe. Breathe and stop worring about yourself....*
*Carter(masked) does not try to push calming feelings at Rassilon, as much as he might want to. It's not worth the risk...* I need to know how you shield this, Lord. How you control it.
*Rassilon runs only slightly shaking hands over his face and nods. When he answers, it isn't in English, but Carter can understand what he's saying, nonetheless.* [I ... understand. You don't wish to be ... seen. Yes. First things first.] *he catches his breath.* [I ... have known my place in this cosmos for ... millennia. Control stems ... from that knowledge. And ... visualisation.]
*Carter(masked) clicks his mandibles underneath his mask, as his mind pushes forward.* Show me. *A demand, a command... not a request. This is too important for please and thank you.*
*There's a slight pained sound from Rassilon, and with this uncontrolled power, Carter is well inside his mind, now. Memories and experiences. Rassilon has lived with far too much telepathic /power/ all his life, struggled with it, reined it in, sometimes unsuccessfully, fought it, and finally put it in a place where it wouldn't destroy him. He had found a place from which to let it flow through him and around him. A calm spot in the current. From there he could pull protection around him as he needed. The timestream and other peoples' minds had finally resolved after too long spent pulled by something too strong for his own brain. From this spot, he could visualise a protective bubble round his mind, like he'd been doing recently, crystalline and layered.*
*Carter(masked) watches this, and commits it all to memory. Calm, and protection... but with this danger there -is- no calm for Carter. K'thal nash.... He sighs, and slumps a bit, body moving weirdly underneath the robes.* This... is not going to be easy.
Rassilon: *breathless* [It isn't ... I'm sorry...]
Rassilon: [I can ... try to help you visualise...] *he breaks off, shaking.* [...have to concentrate....]
Carter(masked): I can concentrate. *indignant! Just a little bit.* Please. This --
Rassilon: *very breathless.* [sorry... I mean I do....] *he's pale and still shaking, his mind curled in against its own senses and fighting to stay conscious.*
Carter(masked): *makes a buzzing noise of frustration, more mental than audible.* They will not harm you unless you call their attention -- or unless -I- do.
Rassilon: *still shaking* [This is... a ph-physical reaction... genetic... race memory... t-to have this influence ... body is rejecting....]
Carter(masked): *... must... resist... improper uses of power he doesn't understand. Must...* What would help to ease this?
Rassilon: *forces his eyes open, though that isn't doing him much good, as they refuse to focus* [...we ... work t-together on ... this....] *Another breath.* [form ... protection ... we can ... do this in mental contact... can't stay conscious... instinctive retreat....]
*Carter(masked) nods, and tries -- hell, Rasslion needs to be -stronger- for this.... he can do that, can't he? Lend him strength, support him as he tries to fight against this rebellion his body is staging...?*
*He can. Rassilon's mind is very open, now, and within the new senses he has, on the other side of his own body's scrambled instincts, his own thoughts can be heard, skirling in and out of coherency. He gets this much, though--shields can be formed, Rassilon's within, Carter's without, and they would be very much the same.*
*Carter(masked) does gather this, yes -- which doesn't mean it won't take a while to piece together for the both of them a working model, but does still mean that there can -be- one...*
*It takes a while, but it does work.*
*At least, enough that Carter doesn't immediately fear for the both of them. He is, however, rather exhausted by this time -- crouched on the floor in an exhausted tangle of robes, the insect in him obvious in his posture. (And the way his swollen abdomen-segment is outlined by the draped robe.)* It is... yes?
Rassilon isn't in much better shape, sprawled and still. When his eyes flicker open, they're strangely noticable by their altered colour.* [Yes.]
*Carter(masked) will just.... crouch here? Yes. ....oh, Gods, will he still be able to dream...? Still half-connected to Rassilon, the fearful thought is easily read. Without the Dreamlands, his City....*
*The thought returns to him that yes ... he thinks so. But what will he do, now that he can no longer watch time--more than that, the Station, the Loom, how long will he be like this, unable to continue his work?*
Carter(masked) will do what he is able, he sends in quiet less-than-words. His behavior at the beginning of this was unacceptable, and he should do what he can to make up for it -- and to help Rassilon do what he would usually be able to on his own...*
Rassilon: *whispers* [It's all right. I've been ... less than clear on this. What must I do, now that I have this ability?]
Carter(masked): *clicks, chittering nervously.* There is -- my obligations are not many, in either world, that I have not myself made. The school, and my City... A sprawling metal city in the middle of a great dreamlands desert, rebuilding his lost world piece by piece... I would not ask you to undertake my offerings, or prayers. I sometimes give consultancy to those who will ask for me, too...
Rassilon: *nods.* [I have been making what I'm able to do available to those who ask. I don't know if that'll come up but it bears mention....] *his thoughts flicker over the concept of the city, memories of it.*
Carter(masked) gives an acquiescent click. I shall do what I am able. And he will show him more, if he wishes. Ia, lost Yaddith, prison turned to adopted home -- eaten from the inside out by the minions of the very goddess they all worshipped, and the survivors scattered to the ends of the universe... But if he could find them, bring them someplace safe...
Rassilon: *softly* [You could find them now ... look for their minds ... follow their timetraces....]
Carter(masked): No. Not -- like this. There are so many that could see... *And the one in particular that thirsts for his blood. The Crawling Chaos that he thwarted and that has never forgotten it...*
Rassilon twitches at the idea. It seems the Crawling Chaos is after more than only Carter. He has a particular dislike of Time Lords...* [You've a point. Apologies.]
Carter[masked] is sorry to have caused distress. But... well, his paranoia is justified, he thinks. I thank you for the suggestion, truly. But all in its own time, Lord. I have millennia to see it done... And he only tries to look forward a -few- centuries, before he stops himself with a sharp jerk of his head.
*Rassilon barely notices it, really. Now that he's adequately sheilded, he sits up, and is acclimating himself to the differences in perception while they converse. He looks a bit odd with his eyes gone black.*
Carter(masked) *with the mask on, and his posture as it is, it's difficult to see how Carter's own eyes have started to follow suit, compound facets a brilliant iridescent green.* Do you think you will be well, now, at least for however long this lasts?
Rassilon: [I ... beleive so, yes. And you?] *he looks at Carter rather sympathetically. This isn't something he'd wish on anyone....*
Carter(masked): I... *he doesnt know. He's experienced similar to this level of -connection,- if fleetingly, but the raw power that comes with it...* ...I shall do my best. I may -- need to remind myself, though.... why I cannot use this. *Because it is so very, -very- tempting. A human body again, a hundred years of construction done in an instant, all his adopted people gathered in the twitch of an antenna, their planet restored and the Dholes cast out......*
*Rassilon picks up his meaning easily enough, whether or not the specific images come through.* [True. But I trust your caution.] *he smiles a quiet, tired sort of smile, and stands, only a little unsteadily, heading for the door.* [If you need anything at all, I'm easily found....]
Carter(masked) rises too, in that weirdly jointed way of his. Thank you, Lord. If -- you need me, for... the preservation of your own realm, I will lend whatever assistance I am able.
Rassilon: *softly* [Thank you. I may, yet, I don't know.] *He's very honest, anyway. He pushes the door open gently.* [Goodnight.]
Carter(masked) bows to him, slowly. And to you, Lord.
Rassilon doesn't trust his own balance to respond any further than a nod before he quietly leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.*
Carter(masked) stays here for another few moments, trying to find it in him to make his way out. And to -- not his world. Somewhere else... somewhere.