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crossing_lostrpRose had wandered off for a 'girl's night'. She'd taken one of the teapots and sauntered off with a swing to her hips.
He looked over to where the women were laughing, and starting to drink. They were either bonding or embarassing themselves. Or both. No matter what species, women remained a mystery.
He saw Adam passing a container of something to Ripley before she moved to join the group.
It hit him suddenly. The vague feeling of having seen Adam, or someone like him before. Knowing what he now did of Adam's age, it was undoubtedly the same man. A doctor then, as well.
As Adam started to pass the leanto on the way back to the infirmary the Doctor grinned.
"Geneva, 1816." The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed to Adam. His voice was low and didn't carry beyond the two of them. "Dinner party at George Byron's. You, Mary and myself were the only ones completely sober. Romana was just slightly affected."
**********
The Doctor was becoming bored. The debate had been amusing and quite enjoyable the first two hours, but as their host continues to partake of the alarmingly green liquor, his arguments became more and more incoherent. He might have lasted longer if he didn’t have the appalling habit of pouring his absinth over a cube of opium.
Romana, however, appeared to be enjoying herself too much to excuse themselves just yet. She was on her third glass of absinth, sans opium. She was apparently allowing it to affect her a bit. How ridiculous. To have a philosophical and scientific debate with two of the more poetically brilliant humans in history was one thing. But to descend into ones cups for it.
“Oh, but philosophy is much more profound when there’s a bit of inebriation involved.” Romana chided him. She’d evidently been affected enough to rudely tap into his surface thoughts.
She did look rather fetching in the empire waisted confection of pink and white striped cotton and satin. Her blonde hair pulled up into an artfully arranged mass of artificial curls atop her head.
“If you insist. But I find philosophy to be such a fluid topic on it own, the addition of another kind of fluidity just blurs it all together.” The Doctor sipped at his own drink. The anise taste was too strong for his liking. Fortunately, unlike humans, he didn’t risk madness by imbibing. Of course some would argue he was already there.
“Now, now… I find libation makes things much more interesting, my friends. Once can be excused of most anything when others think it is the result of inebriation. Indeed, I think philosophy’s rise has been directly proportional to the fermentation process in most cultures.” Lord George Gordon Byron interjected quite happily.
“Indeed, Pericles, Socrates and Plato were great admirers of wine, and boys. Not necessarily in that order.” Shelly added from his seat in the corner. He was sprawled about as it his spine had collapsed.
The Doctor stood out from the two handsome, and fashionable men. His own countenance currently consisted of rather large eyes, a toothy smile and a mop of unruly brown curls, and his attire, even divested of his long coat and comforting looping scarf of seeming unending length, was less that fashionable in the current time period. His trousers were a bit baggy, and woolen. His boots were knee high, but brown and well worn. And his loose white shirt had a single red question mark embroidered on each lapel.
“Ah, but wine was safer than water in those days, and really, you couldn’t let any fruit juice lay about in those temperatures without some fermentation taking place. But if you’re talking the more ritually prepared wines, who wouldn’t have a soft spot for a bit of Essenczian wine.” Now there was a vintage to get into. He had several bottles on the TARDIS. “And Pericles was not so interested in boys so much as boys were the only ones educated at the time, in all their times, really. It had nothing to do with droll sexuality and everything to do with the educated intellect.” The Doctor countered.
“Seems not much has changed after all.” Romana offered. “Why is education so divergent between the sexes?”
The Doctor almost choked on his absinth. Oh dear, this was suddenly going to get interesting again.
“It is because you, my dear lady, are the exception rather than the rule. Most female minds seem to bend towards emotion and fashion. Their minds full of fat babies and domesticity. They seem to have neither the tendency nor the inclination for more intellectual pursuits.” Byron well and truly put his foot into it.
“Which is why your idea of free love is so liberating? Really. It’s more an excuse to free you from obligation rather than freeing anyone’s mind. Give way to hedonism and take no personal responsibility for any results. It’s all very juvenile.” Romana wrinkled her pert little nose.
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a fourth man. Tall and lanky, his posture seemed a bit slouched, but the grace of stride and carriage made The Doctor expect that it was an affectation. He had seen warrior types with similar bearing. Leela, for one. His dark hair and prominent nose leant towards the rather romantic mystique of his contemporaries.
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OOC applause
Date: 2006-05-19 02:39 am (UTC)Re: OOC applause
Date: 2006-05-19 02:59 am (UTC)Re: OOC applause
Date: 2006-05-19 10:17 am (UTC)[Methos] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Doctor)
Date: 2006-05-19 10:07 am (UTC)"Nice little place by Lake Geneva, summertime," the Doctor continued cheerfully, as if he'd won a prize. "Cold that year, wasn't it? Wet too. Nice sunsets though."
Methos' first instinct was to play innocent, while the second was to knock the man down and demand to know what he knew. The third was that the man was a time traveler and given everything else he'd seen and heard recently, a prior meeting wasn't entirely impossible - apart from one small thing. Methos remembered that year without summer, courtesy of Tambora's eruption, and though he hadn't thought of it in decades he remembered the evening in question just as well. A man calling himself 'the Doctor' had been present, tall with a strange sense of humour, but the face was altogether different.
He unclenched his jaw and frowned drolly. "You cut your hair."
---------------------------------------------------------------
Methos smirked as he brought his horse to a stop inside the gates of Byron's residence by Lake Geneva, waving away the footman who'd scurried to get a stool for the guest to dismount upon. He'd used the damned things occasionally, but only when protocol insisted he must - there was only so much eccentricity one could get away with without being noticed, and only those who were already noticed due to wealth and position could get away with the consequences. Take Byron for instance: how an Immortal foundling had been placed in such a prominent family was anyone's guess, but he'd certainly reaped the benefits and pushed every boundary he could lay his hot little hands on. Given the opportunity Methos would far rather do away with the ridiculous collars forced upon the men of this era, but he trusted that fashion would change in time.. hopefully to something much less constricting. It wasn't as if the extra cloth protected his neck after all, not when faced with a sharp blade.
Jumping down from the saddle, "Dr Adams" took the steps two at a time and stretched his senses to feel for Byron's Buzz. There was an unusual carriage in the driveway so he knew the man was in, but he didn't remember being told about any other guests being due. Methos frowned as he tucked his tall hat under his arm, resolving to give the younger Immortal a piece of his mind later on. He'd told him time and time again that even trusted friends could unintentionally bring a headhunter to his door, and after that fiasco with Marti Pestalozzi last month there was also the possibility that others might seek revenge for his head. By his own admission risks made Byron feel more alive, but the silly fool had yet to grasp the idea that a sword could end his life just as easily as a mortal's if used correctly. Current notoriety was all young George cared about, and the latest claim of impregnation by the English aristocrat was surely proof that he was succeeding... that, and the local girls were rather free with their affections.
How in heaven's name will he survive when he has to leave this name behind?
"Which is why your idea of free love is so liberating? Really," a female voice observed dryly, the sound echoing through the marbled hall. "It's more an excuse to free you from obligation rather than freeing anyone's mind. Give way to hedonism and take no personal responsibility for any results. It's all very juvenile."
[Methos] Revelry and Remembrances cont. (tag Doctor)
Date: 2006-05-19 10:08 am (UTC)"Well, well, Lord Byron," Methos chuckled at the sight of his malingering semi-student, who looked a little out of sorts after that last comment. "I do believe the lady has hit the proverbial nail upon the head."
He turned to the young woman and her companion, bowing politely over her hand as he tried to guess their relationship to each other - husband and wife? Surely not brother and sister.. perhaps an escort and his charge? That they were visiting during one of the residents' many "parties" and evidently partaking of the wares suggested they weren't averse to a little hedonism themselves, but one never could tell.
"Dr Benjamin Adams at your service, mademoiselle. Currently posing as our host's personal physician."
"A full-time job!" Shelley declared loudly, sipping that green concoction the pair were so fond of this week. Byron could partake of as much as he wished, naturally, but Methos did sometimes worry about Percy and his common-law wife, Mary. There was enough creativity in those three minds to keep the world entertained for decades, providing they succeeded in putting pen to paper.
"It is a duty which I undertake cheerfully in the name of science," Methos replied with a sarcastic smile. "Sir is paying me, after all."
"Dr Adams, may I introduce you to the beautiful Lady Romana and The Doctor," 'Sir' intoned melodramatically, cutting the conversation short rather than joining it. "They're visiting us from.. oh.. Whence do you come? I forget. No matter, you're here now and very welcome too. Percy! Where's your wife?"
Still unsure of how the visitors fit into this picture, Methos nodded a greeting to the Doctor and headed to the drinks table while Shelley patiently explained that his wife was out by the lake with her step-sister Claire. A shame, since Mary was rather well educated for a young woman of the time and it appeared that Romana was also.
"We shall have to hope that the ladies choose to join us later then," he commented, drinking down a glass of absinthe in one gulp before making a face. "Dear me, this tastes foul."
Byron guffawed. "Then you must drink more, until you taste it no longer."
"Hedonism and free love, George? Even at the expense of finer food and wine?" Methos inquired, offering the bottle around before pouring himself a second glass, wondering all the while why he was bothering to catch up.
"Always, Ben, no matter which form it takes. And yes, we are four to one. Shocking. It simply isn't done and must be remedied!" the host giggled drunkenly. "I suspect that you will have to find your own playmate though, Dr Adams, for the ladies are all taken."
Methos took a seat while Byron and Shelley continued to propound the joy of their chosen lifestyle, observing the Doctor and Romana curiously. They both appeared rather amused, although the look in the lady's eyes suggested that she was preparing for another scathing comment. Oh yes, he might enjoy this evening.
Doctor] Revelry and Remembrances cont. (tag Methos)
Date: 2006-05-19 11:29 am (UTC)The Doctor brushed at the sleeves of his leather jacket. "Not bad, this one. The ears are a bit much, but you have to take the rough with the smooth. Could have been worse. Should have seen the second me."
********************
Romana had offered a smile at Dr. Adam’s courteous bow. He still had his manners, but then, he was still sober.
But she glowered at Byron’s announcement. “I am anything but taken, sir. Indeed, the idea of women as property is vulgar, and beneath one of your rumored intellect.” The tone of Romana’s voice let all present know what she thought of said rumors. “I can certainly hold my own against such company as is present.”
“I say, she’s held her own against far worse.” The Doctor looked mildly amused.
“And easily far better.” She smiled at him with a kind of detached fondness.
“Touche’.” The Doctor offered a toothy grin. “But then I thought we were here for some relaxation.”
“I find debate relaxing. At least I’m not matching wits with an unarmed opponent. Much anyway.” She set aside her half finished glass. “And I’d take fine food and good wine over self-destructive indulgence any time. I am not opposed to self-indulgence per say, only to becoming so lost in it that the wit is dulled and a person becomes no better than the town drunkard. There is a fine line between hedonism and debauchery. It’s best to know where it is.”
“And when it’s been overstepped.” The Doctor added wryly. “But then I do think the other ladies should share their view on the subject. It would be terribly rude to leave them out, after all. I do accede to our dear host’s idea, if not his reasoning.”
“They would certainly add to the ambience at least.” Lord Byron murmured into his glass. He was obviously well indulged for the night.
[Methos] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Doctor)
Date: 2006-05-19 12:54 pm (UTC)Methos blinked. "Changing faces, now that's a handy trick. I can't even get away with plastic surgery."
He decided against asking after Romana, in case she was as touchy a subject as Byron was for himself. Understanding why Macleod had killed him was one thing, forgiving him was another. Few of Methos' acquaintances grew from being a means to an end (from his angle) to genuine affection, and the loss of those his friends was always painful.
"You'd think that Rose would be glad for you to live a little longer."
--------------------------------------------------------
Sighing, Methos nodded to the servant who hovered by the door. He would know to fetch the two young women from the lakeside, something their maid was likely considering by now in any case. It was getting darker outside after all, and the weather was not especially trustworthy.
Leaning towards Romana, he adopted a conspiratorial air. "I'm afraid that my patient believes himself to be invincible, and as such has trouble believing in the fine line of which you speak."
"Hah!" Byron huffed haughtily. "I am invincible, sir, and what is the point of living if we don't taste what life has to offer us? That is what my muse demands and I am her devoted servant."
Methos shook his head and gazed towards Percy Shelley, who seemed to be enjoying an opium-induced hallucination. The man could do with a good ducking in some cold water, of that Methos was sure, but he was not about to enforce the treatment. Far from it, in fact. Let them both reap the rewards of their hedonism, both bad and good, and if Shelley had any sense he'd heed the warning of tomorrow morning's hangover and take life more gently for a while.
"Good evening to you all!" Mary Godwin breezed into the parlour, clearly forcing a smile at the sight of her inebriated spouse. Claire appeared quite overjoyed to see the young Lord however, sprawled and drunken though he was, running into his arms and landing a sound kiss upon his lips.
Coughing pointedly, Methos determined that the corruption of at least one of these young women was near-complete. "Lady Romana, Doctor, may I present to you Miss Mary Godwin and her sister, Miss Clara Clairmont."
Mary plucked her protesting sister away from the lap of Byron and they curtsied politely, both blushing to some degree before taking their seats.
"My lady, sir," Mary nodded, smiling. "I apologise for our tardiness, we did not realise Lord Byron had guests."
Shelley chose that moment to come back to reality. "Pagh, were you not busy my darling? How could we disturb you?"
"I was already disturbed, dear, by the moping of certain others," she replied quietly, then turned to Methos. "I hope that your day went well, Dr Adams?"
He grinned playfully. "Very well, thank you - and getting better by the minute. The lady Romana has expressed an interest in debate, possibly with the subject of hedonism versus debauchery."
"That's right Ben, bring the ladies in then steal them away in the name of a good chat," Byron grumbled, though his hands were once again full of an enthusiastic young Claire. He leered hungrily, but batted her attentions away nonetheless. "Down girl! There are guests present."
Miss Clairmont pouted as she faced the rest of the room, clearly blaming them for the end of her fun. "Life is too short not to enjoy. Why shouldn't I make the most of the opportunity?"
"Lest you become old and withered before your time, perhaps?" Mary observed sharply, though she poured herself a small glass of absinthe. "A long life is infinitely preferable to a short one, however pleasurable. How can one appreciate happiness when one lives in a constant state of euphoria?"
Shelley formed the first response this time, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair as his common-law wife stared down her nose at him - fond, yet condescending. "No one can maintain euphoria forever, dearest. Hangovers cause such a clanging interruption, it's impossible to miss the damned things."
"Hair of the dog!" Byron chanted, with Claire joining in for the second line of what had to be the least poetic ditties to be aired in this house to date. "Hair of the dog!"
Methos buried his head in his hands and sighed.
[Doctor] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Methos)
Date: 2006-05-20 02:16 am (UTC)The Doctor gestured to the pile of goods strapped to the underside of a cot. "I brought back some supplies for my groups little venture. Including some antibiotics. Not many, but a few of them are quite potent. I'll get them to you tomorrow. They're somewhere in the middle, to protect them."
*******
Romana raised a blonde eyebrow at Byron and Claire’s display. “Closer to tail of the dog. I know of a dog that has no hair. I wonder how that would affect the party?”
“It would either cause great amusement or terrible vexation. Best not bring him into this.” The Doctor grinned and Romana’s smile.
“What I would like to know is how… chasing the green fairy, or eating the lotus can possibly inspire beauty. I would think inane ramblings or depths of maudlin despair would be more likely.” Romana was beginning to look bored now.
“Oh please, do me a favor and kill me if I ever get maudlin.” The Doctor muttered and grinned. No, he enjoyed life too much, adventure, fighting the good fight and hurrah.
“You almost got maudlin in Prague.” Romana pointed out.
“Well… Prague would make anyone maudlin. Dismal place. All smoke and squalor. Though they do have a lovely cathedral.”
Romana laughed, a light sound, but she covered her mouth as if in apology, looking for a moment like a someone caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
She looked to Mary and settled herself more soberly. In fact, she appeared to have ceased letting the drink affect her. “I have to agree with Madame Shelly, however. A false euphoria never allows for a true happiness. And a constant state rarely leads to a long life. I would not sacrifice sanity foe illusions. Or intellect for debauchery.”
She turned to Doctor Adams. “It appears you are of a more sober mind, Doctor. I should wonder your patient keeps his mind at all, let alone manages to produce the occasional genius. Or can partake of the more base debaucheries at all.”
[Methos] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Doctor)
Date: 2006-05-20 09:40 am (UTC)He scanned the world outside again, noting the laughter coming from the girls' party and other groups huddled about the beach. No one was especially close by, and it seemed like his interlude with Ripley had made Methos a little keener to share the odd story.
"It's rather ironic really. I haven't practiced medicine since the last time we met, but the fundamentals haven't changed." Methos smirked. "I may have to disappear again when we're rescued, before everyone finds out that Adam Pierson not only hasn't completed his thesis but is a glorified librarian to boot."
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Lord Byron has an unusually robust constitution, my lady," Methos sighed melodramatically. "To be frank my usefulness to his person is minor, although his guests are taken ill on a suspiciously regular basis. I am considering a study on the effects of laudanum on one's sanity, given the range of subjects paraded before me."
"Dr Adams, you desecrate my home with such slander," the aforementioned aristocrat protested weakly, twisting a delicate ribbon into Claire's hair. "'This band, which bound thy midnight hair, / Is thine, sweet girl, thy pledge of love, / It claims my warmest, dearest care, / Like relics, left of saints above.'"
Rolling his eyes, Methos turned back to Romana with an apologetic murmur. "Unfortunately young Claire is unlikely to recognise her paramour's fall-back poetry, however many times he trots it out. When sober though, his mind is more agile than most can imagine - as is your own, I perceive. Not always as slovenly as his current demeanour might suggest."
"You are well-travelled, then?" Mary inquired politely of the Doctor. "I should dearly love to see Prague, and Rome. The history, the architecture, the culture.." She smiled softly at her snoring husband, then looked up once more. "Dr Adams often chides me for my childish romanticism, however he does acknowledge these cities' beauty 'despite the smell'. I would be most interested to hear your thoughts."
"The Shelleys and Miss Clairmont aim to continue their Grand Tour someday," Methos explained. "A valiant endeavour I'm sure, but we remember too little of what shaped the nations of today to fully appreciate their sights and legends, a failing that our illustrious host exploits far too often in his own works."
Mary harrumped a little at his words. "Artistic license is an essential ingredient of poetry, dear doctor."
"Or perhaps it is an excuse for lack of imagination," he teased the young woman in return, looking for a response from the guests. "What say you?"
[Doctor] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Methos)
Date: 2006-05-22 12:08 am (UTC)******************
“I say history is mutable. Unless one has been there you have to rely on the tales passed on by those who were. And they very rarely want to paint themselves in an unflattering light. The next generation reshapes it to their own fancy, often denigrating their predecessors, and by the time those alive today are told histories they barely resemble the facts. So who is to say Ozymandias isn’t as much a king as Kubli Kahn. History is full of artistic license, Doctor Adams.” The Doctor offered an amused smile.
“But poetry does seem to last longer than truth. ‘Then let our amorous kisses dwell, On our lips, begin and tell, A Thousand and a hundred score, A hundred and a thousand more, Till another thousand smother, That and that wipe off another.’ It might as well be years and history as kisses being spoke of. Yet the poem remains. Perhaps art is the only truth left this world.” Romana offered, and looked a bit sad at the thought.
“Not so. There still remain honest men, and honest historians. Though most of the educated find straightforward history dull, and lean towards the more romantic. Pilney the elder and the younger have as much beauty and truth as any sonnet.” The Doctor offered.
“You can’t play both sides, Doctor. You were the one telling of the mutability of history. Of time itself.” Romana’s lips curled as if she had scored some victory.
“I can play any side I like! No one set up rules. Tiresome, tedious thing, rules. You’ll have to agree.” The Doctor looked to the present company, and skipped over Byron and Claire a bit quickly. “If I want to argue one way and then another, it just demonstrates my open mind.” The Doctor’s deep baritone sounded slightly indignant.
“Sometimes so open your brain is likely to fall out.” Romana laughed at her friend’s expense. “And even if rules had been set, you’d break them. You like breaking rules far too much.”
“Rules are meant to be broken. Conscience is a far better guide than rules. Rules are for those with no conscience.” The Doctor countered.
Romana looked to Mary. “You could say we are well traveled. We’ve been much farther than most. But travel has its own pitfalls. Sometimes sameness and routine have their own appeal. To surround yourself with the familiar offers more comfort.”
“Now who’s getting maudlin? If you want boredom and sameness I’d be happy to take you home. Cloistered away above it all. Travel broadens the mind as well as the horizons.” The Doctor countered. “Get the man to take you somewhere. Italy’s nice this time of year.”
[Methos] Revelry and Remembrances (tag Doctor)
Date: 2006-05-22 12:33 pm (UTC)------------------------------------------------------------------
This Doctor and his lady were uncommonly perceptive, Methos decided, not to mention entertaining. Their light banter and obvious ease with one another made him quite jealous, despite those with whom he kept company at present. Debates this unconventional household had aplenty, and story-telling, but once the absinthe, opium and laudanum appeared they might as well be a pack of children. Fun, yet increasingly wearisome over time. Not only that, but these guests seemed less burdened by modern thought than anyone else he'd met in a very long time - liberal by nature, not to provoke a reaction.
As Mary began to outline her plans to visit Italy, complete with occasional slaps upon her husband's arm, Methos shot an irritated glare in Byron's direction. Seeing that the poet was indulging his other muse once more - whispering drunken ditties to his earnest student - he beckoned the butler over and enquired after the evening meal.
"Awaiting his Lordship's pleasure, as always, sir," the bulky servant replied, though the impatience in his eyes betrayed him.
Methos smiled indulgently before issuing his quiet reply. "Nearly spoiled, then?"
The nod he received in return was hesitant and almost imperceptible, despite the fact that Garrett had had several months with which to acquaint himself with Methos' eccentricities. Rolling his eyes, the Immortal simply waved the man away and resumed his earlier sprawl. No doubt there would be much gossiping below-stairs tonight, particularly regarding the master's guests.
"Lord Byron - I believe it is time to feed the body, now that you have saturated the mind?"
His 'employer' merely snorted. "An unnecessary affair, surely. Neither my hedonism nor my belly is inclined towards gastronomy at this time."
"You have guests, dear sir, therefore you must entertain!"
Methos shook his head in mock-despair, though his true feelings were not so far removed. Byron's poems were tolerated far more easily than Byron himself, even down to the smallest of courtesies and while the privacy of his home was relatively safe, the Doctor and Lady Romana remained an unknown quantity despite their open-mindedness. It would be rather ironic if the man received wider acclaim after his supposed lifetime, simply because he'd been so brash.
A rumbling of his belly reminded Methos of his previous train of though: food. How best to guide their host now? Ah yes..
"I hear the new maid is being permitted to wait at table this evening."
Byron's eyes snapped open as he took the bait, smiling broadly as he planted a long kiss upon Claire's lips: a fondled promise of later pleasures that caused her to giggle mischievously, though she might not realise how many lovers Byron intended on taking that night. The news was most likely false in any case - Methos was not party to such decisions after all - however the objective had been achieved.
"Then, though it disturb my sweet repose, eat we shall! Garrett?" the master of the house called to his butler expectantly.
Bowing with perfect decorum, the man in question signaled the other servants while a footman opened the doors to the dining hall. "Ladies, my lord, good sirs - dinner is served."
Wonderful, Methos decided, sniffing appreciatively. There was a great deal to be said for modern conveniences.