Fear was what kept you going, it was always what had kept Aoife going even before all of this had started. The fear of what would happen to her had been her fuel, it had kept her running and kept her going through life. She had been too scared to stop, what would happen if she stop running away from her life, her history, her past and her memories. There hadn’t been a choice in her mind, all she could do was run and this time, this time it might just have to be the same thing. It was fail proof right, she could have to fight and she would have to keep running because there wasn’t a choice. This wasn’t running though, this was sitting together curled against the wall inside a TARDIS hiding from the universe just for a few moments, hiding until the fear and the panic subsided slightly. It would never go away and she knew that, it would never stop beating in her heart but all she could do was learn to live with it…and she had to learn to live with the fact that there was $%&# all she could do about it. There was a shiver down her spine as the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. There was always something nervous about letting someone in to your head, something nervous about letting someone in to that inner sanctum but she trusted him now enough. There was a certain curiosity from him that she hadn’t expected at all, she knew some time lords hated her with a deep passion, they saw her as something wrong, as something that shouldn’t exist and maybe they were right but she didn’t want to think about that too much there was too much else going on in her life for her to think about that as well. Even if it did fly through her mind at least one a day. Some time lords however just saw her as something that they wanted to study, that they wanted to find out just how she everything mixed together in her genetics, even Aoife didn’t understand that one so she had no idea how the hell any of them were going to work that one out.

He was right, though he was bound to be considering that he was in her mind, the real issue was the fact that she felt useless, that she had let everyone down…worthless. That everything was in vein…still he did his best to try and calm those thoughts down…which was surprising for her she never expected Syn to be so supportive. The more surprising thing was how open he was, there wasn’t much that she could do to block it out she wasn’t experienced enough. There wasn’t that much she could make out either it was like pictures, just flashes but she could make out enough to figure it out. Someone had left, fighting, arguing…and loss, he was hurt by it she just wanted to reach out and tell him it was ok to say sorry, that he could go get them back and it wasn’t something that couldn’t be fixed – unlike this – but she knew Syn…he wouldn’t say sorry until it was far too late. There was a red light, it was something different, different memory, different feeling it took a few seconds but it was a camera…a cell the dawning realisation that when he was talking to her it was from experience. It almost broke her heart a little, and yet she understood better…she understood why he was the way he was. Maybe that was more important than anything else, you didn’t want people to like you, you wanted to be understood more than anything else in the world.

They were fighting though, that was what they were both doing, they were still fighting the universe that tried to keep them back, they were fighting the universe that tried to break them down and the people that thought they were weaker than they really were. She didn’t blame him though, I don’t blame you, any of you, you didn’t know you couldn’t know. After all we all have to stay relative within the Causal Nexus.’ Maybe there was a bit more time lord in her than everyone gave her credit for, either that she just knew a bit more than people thought. She didn’t’ show off around Syn, she didn’t geek out with him the same way the she did with The Doctor. He agreed though, they were the worst, at least they had the same view on something. She found herself having more and more in common with Syn and as much as she now trusted him and she was thankful…she wanted her Doctor. It was like pinning for a parent had she had been there before, she wanted to go to the one person that never made her feel alone or worthless, the one person that made the universe seem a bit smaller, who made the universe make a bit more sense and more than anything the one person who seemed to understand her better than her own family did. As much as she loved her Great Grandfather…he didn’t seem to understand her at all. For that she hated herself, maybe it was a problem with her…there must be so many problems with herself.

They…they did… She was struggling even with the telepathic link to try and convey what she meant, instead there were images, the needles, the yelling, the pain, the promises that if she spoke it would all stop. That if she spoke that they would just stop and yet none of it came, they didn’t understand that she couldn’t…

OOC}} Kinda short D8

Even above the general hum of the humans in the bar, he could hear the summer - that sounded strange, but it was true. The cicadas had set up an insistent shrilling whine that came perilously close to drowning out conversation. More annoyingly, every now and then one of them would bumble into the pub and flutter noisily against the rafters until someone picked it up and tossed it out again. It was about then that Syn decided alcohol could only improve the night and gave the barman instructions for a rather large Scotch. The barman nodded and displayed too many teeth to put people at ease, then passed him the drink. Syn swirled it for a second and stared at it, before swallowing some. Tasted like smoke and sherry. But hey, it wasn't so bad. He tilted the glass slightly, the ice cubes clinking quietly against the sides of the glass, and studied it. Human alcohol was kind of lame, but it'd do.

Before Syn could ruminate any more on alcohol and it's tastes or indeed anything at all, someone entered the bar and caused a few of the customers to pause and lazily survey him from their chairs. Instead, Syn just focused on the wood grain in the bench and hunched further into his black trench coat. Of course the guy sat down next to him, it being one of the only empty ones. Syn shot him a subtle side-long glance and winced as some annoying part of his mind informed him that this was in fact another Time Lord. Joy. The guy was wearing a brown suit (overly formal much) and Converse, and he'd ordered bourbon on the rocks. Syn considered leaving, but he'd played with his metabolism so the Scotch (okay, the all the stuff he'd drank back in Sekhmet) kind of muted his usual hatred of Time Lords.

Ehhh, whatever.

Barman-man didn't seem so keen to exercise his customer service skills on other Time Lord - just nodding and passing him the drink. Syn watched this mute exchange with a sort of mild curiosity. When he turned away Syn arched his eyebrows and murmured in the general direction of other Time Lord - "He's got a smile that lights up a room, hasn't he?" Somewhat wryly. Syn earned himself a cool stare from aforementioned BarGuy. Thankfully, then the barman swapped shifts, with a quietly attractive woman - maybe about 25 or so, with black hair and chocolate brown eyes. That improved Syn's mood no end. Enough that he flipped through a range of deliberately tacky lines to lot - what? He hadn't done this in ages. He was allwoed to be a total manwhore again now.

He wasn't too sure that he was pleased by that thought, but - he took another mouthful of Scotch to finish it off. PrettyBarChick smiled at him. Syn responded in kind. "Hey, do you know how much a polar bear weighs?" he asked, leaning in conspirationally. He got a head shake for no. "Enough to break the ice,"He purred - whereupon her smile widened. "What can I get you?" Syn tilted his head to one side as he deliberated, the remnants of his smile still playing over his features. "Uhh..Just a Crownie, thanks. And random alcohol for this guy here.

Wow. Syn really was in a good mood.

Syn figured he deserved the obscenities thrown at him in place of Mutt. Yes, so it was largely uncalled for and probably done out of spite but $%&#, he'd hit her. Syn had never hit a girl. He may have been a murderer and a traitor and according to various people an insane $%&#ed up ass hole, but he'd never hit a girl. Until then. He'd spent some time dragging his alcohol-marinated, foggy mind back over the chain of events, and he honestly couldn't remember any conscious command to his fist that had set events in motion. She'd shoved him after they'd screamed bloody murder at each other and he'd just lost it - it was anger like he hadn't felt in a long time. It had been so unexpected he hadn't known how he could do anything to prevent it, and then Mutt was sobbing and pushing past him and there were subtle reminders everywhere he went, like the occasional item of clothing she'd left and - ugh.

He was careful to stay just behind her when she started walking - but far enough away that she wasn't going to be able to do any permanent damage. That was never going to end well. He actually meant his apology, too - and had he known Mutt's opinion on the truth of people when under the influence of alcohol, he definitely would have worded it differently. As it was, he was still struggling to find the right words to fit the situation. Apparently Syn didn't fall into the 'People Do What They Want When Drunk' school of thought. Mutt paused for a handful of heartbeats when he'd finished tripping over his words, gazing over her shoulder at him with a hard stare from her mismatched eyes. Having never been one to back down from a staring contest, Syn held it calmly - which probably did nothing to help the situation.

Well done, Syn.

Then she wasn't looking at him again but she was talking to him, and inquired what he wanted from her. Syn was going to answer (he wasn't sure what with, though) when she cut him off, leaving him to swallow his breath and listen. No forgiveness. Syn's temper raised it's head, in some darker place of mind, and he had to work to keep quiet. Yes, he was at fault. Yes, he was a complete bastard. Whatever. She could be a little bit more civil. Hell, he'd apologised, that meant a lot coming from this particular 'assface', and yet she continued to spit hostile words. Syn ground his teeth, his jaw tightening, before he relaxed again - obviously an exercise taking considerable effort. Some lady wearing an oversized hat looked at them funny, and then kept walking. More mild monologue about how she wasn't going with him again and she wasn't the forgiving type.

Syn narrowed his eyes slightly. That was fine and he deserved it, but he still wouldn't deal with this holier-than-thou atittude. "No @#$%, Captain Obvious!"He said in a perfectly amicable tone with a bright smile, though his eyes betrayed his irritation. @#$%. He was doing it again. He didn't know that the $%&# was wrong with him - it wasn't a conscious decision, it always just happened. And it was like a freight train, it started and it gained momentum and the best he could hope for was to slow it. "Pardon me, but was it not you who gave me a black eye the day we met?" he inquired in a courteous tone, because at least sarcasm beat screaming at each other. "Now I understand that's a tad different, but here's you, getting incredibly high and mighty over some complete mistake and you won't even listen,".

Frustration coloured the last few syllables and his stance changed, his arms folded aggressively over his chest and one foot placed in front of the other, and while he was attempting to calm down mutt graced him with a teenage-ism and spoke in acronyms. Syn glowered and the muscles in his arms tensed. "Great. Well I rode a $%&#ing unicorn,"he spat angrily, while she acted like a sulking 16 year old. "His name is Franklin and he glitters and shoots rainbows outta his ass.

A girl that was clinging to the end of teenagedom with little direction. A potentially deadly mix. She had less then a year until she turned twenty. Her mind saw that as a block. Twenty. The girl needed some direction in her life – yet here she was, jumping from time to time, place to place, with the faces around her as consistent as the areas she found herself in. Random. Different nearly every day. She’d love to just stop for a little bit in one place – maybe permanently. But honestly…she knew her attention span. She’d get bored, piss someone off, and/or break something. Have to run. Bam – new place.

After her little stunt with the glass on the guy’s head upon the deck below – she honestly didn’t feel bad as she heard people yell at the still-standing Syn in blame. He had $%&#ing punched her in the face. The punch had made her realize lots of things. He was an asshole. So was she…but still. He also hit her while drunk. People are truest while drunk. They don’t do something ‘stupid’ – they do something that they want to do. Apparently he wanted to give her a black eye. Asshole.

As she crawled forward, and rose to her feet, and began walking away. His footsteps rang out clearly behind her as he stalked.
"Honestly. I am sorry and I was tanked and that doesn't make it any better, but you have no idea how much I regret it, um.. And I mean, I get it if you don't wanna be near me."

Mutt paused in her steps and gazed over her shoulder, “What do you want from me?” she asked, still not looking at him, “If it’s forgiveness…um no. Blackeye assface. If it’s me traveling with you again. No,” she turned back towards him, “I’m not the forgiving type,” her eyes fiery in the worst way, “You wanna [i]hit me? Then I go away. Why are you even here?” she asked, her brows flat with annoyance.

"Hey - how did you even get here, anyway?"
“P.F.M. Pure $%&#in’ magic.”

The Doctor’s mind was always moving – watching the world around him…feeling as all the other Time Lords in this Universe went about their business. It was a feeling he still wasn’t used to. Almost an aroma the air carried. Even if he was not within several light-years of a single specimen of his species – it was a constant pressure upon the back of his mind. What was even more disconcerting, was the amount of renegades that roamed this Universe. Time Lords were a ‘look and do not touch’ race – the Doctor being a defect within their eyes. Yet everywhere he looked – renegades, renegades, renegades. Almost as if it was simply an option. Want to stay home or go play with time? Almost appalling and insulting to the Doctor in a strange sense. He was no longer the only Time Lord. He was no longer one of the few renegades. He was…normal.

Perhaps the massive amount of ‘away from home’ Time Lords came from the Time War. They just didn’t want to play anymore – and refused to go home. Once you defy Gallifrey – there is no coming back, however. It wasn’t a choice to make on a whim – but all these two-hearted [even if one lay dormant] aliens seemed to jump on the bandwagon – as if it was changing a hair style, rather then turning their backs upon home. This carefree attitude disturbed the Doctor greatly…but he really couldn’t stop them either. He was no shining example, himself.

Yet here he found himself – cradling a girl that was the exact reason why the Time Lords did not want to fuss with time. She was a product of a Time Lord who didn’t know what he was doing. Left his seed in a human – only to develop into a fetus. According to what the Doctor had heard of Jax’s humanoid-blended bloodline…they had all changed history. He hadn’t merely created a being that shouldn’t exist…he changed the Earth itself. Everyday Aoife seemed to be making history – affecting more then a little of reality. More then the average human, at least.

The girl’s expression troubled him. Why wasn’t she speaking? He had seen flashes of what the horrible bastards had done to her…but why didn’t a word utter from between her lips? Gently, the girl reached out again – obvious with the intent to allow him to read her thoughts. At her touch – more images then words flooded his mind…yet he could not speak of what the images appeared as. It was feelings. Images. Yet no voice. One whisper crawled through the chain – informing the old Time Lord that she could not speak.

Could not speak?

Must have been a side-effect of the tortures of Whitechapel…

“Oh…” his voice lower then normal, “If ya need to say something, then…just touch my arm, alright?” he frowned after he stated his solution, before crouching down slightly – leveling their eyes.

“You didn’t lose your voice, Aoife – it’s still in there. Your mind is blocking it out, thanks to the intense emotions that are all careening towards your lips at once. It isn’t uncommon for people who experience…things such as yours, to go mute. Do not feel like there is anything wrong. This is normal…I’m just not sure how to fix it,” his gaze dropped from hers as he frowned, both his hands resting upon her shoulders, “We need to get you out of here…or at least away from these people. C’mon.”

The Doctor guided her away from the slowly dissipating crowd – while slowly formulating a plan in his head. Hopefully he’d think of something brilliant. It was sort of his trademark.