the fuckface who holds time itself in his hands (
collector) wrote in
shifted_logs2010-11-07 08:30 pm
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Entry tags:
- doctor who (d1) bernice summerfield,
- doctor who (d1) braxiatel,
- doctor who (d1) jamie mccrimmon,
- doctor who (d1) leela of the sevateem,
- doctor who (d1) narvin,
- doctor who (d4) the third doctor,
- le chevalier d'eon (d1) robespierre,
- metalocalypse (d1) nathan explosion,
- star trek xi (d2) christine chapel
paper cities burning
Characters: Braxiatel and anyone ever. It's an open log! Tag in! Join in origami art!!
Location: The Astral Plane. Somewhere near food, probably.
Time: After Narvin has been made into a wee-bitty thing. Before the hypothetical future where Braxiatel jumps into a ravine because he hates babysitting.
Summary: Braxiatel needs to do something in his spare time. This is it.
Warnings: Origami awesomeness.
Among the stars and spaces between them, free of the heavy weight of unease that had haunted the Plane, a man was putting his supreme talents in dexterity and mathematical genius to use by making art out of folded paper. Or to put it more simply, Irving Braxiatel was going slightly mad playing the babysitter and so had resorted to origami to try to keep himself sane.
He had begun with a few simple flowers and had quickly gotten sick with the mundanity. That was how the paper model of the Palace of Versailles had ended up at his feet. Then, when he had gotten bored with that, he crafted for himself origami warriors, the grand life-sized sazu game pieces that once were placed in the floating tombs of the Deathless Emperors of Draconia, that they may battle one another in their sleeping death.
Presently, Braxiatel was putting the finishing touch on Nelson's battleship. He had done a fairly good job of representing the Battle of Trafalgar, as far as he was concerned, and was rather pleased by the final product.
Location: The Astral Plane. Somewhere near food, probably.
Time: After Narvin has been made into a wee-bitty thing. Before the hypothetical future where Braxiatel jumps into a ravine because he hates babysitting.
Summary: Braxiatel needs to do something in his spare time. This is it.
Warnings: Origami awesomeness.
Among the stars and spaces between them, free of the heavy weight of unease that had haunted the Plane, a man was putting his supreme talents in dexterity and mathematical genius to use by making art out of folded paper. Or to put it more simply, Irving Braxiatel was going slightly mad playing the babysitter and so had resorted to origami to try to keep himself sane.
He had begun with a few simple flowers and had quickly gotten sick with the mundanity. That was how the paper model of the Palace of Versailles had ended up at his feet. Then, when he had gotten bored with that, he crafted for himself origami warriors, the grand life-sized sazu game pieces that once were placed in the floating tombs of the Deathless Emperors of Draconia, that they may battle one another in their sleeping death.
Presently, Braxiatel was putting the finishing touch on Nelson's battleship. He had done a fairly good job of representing the Battle of Trafalgar, as far as he was concerned, and was rather pleased by the final product.
no subject
That blatant untruth delivered, Braxiatel picks up another of the ships and begins so slowly, carefully disassemble it. He pulls the folds and pockets apart, revealing how the pieces had been interlocked to make a cohesive whole. "In a sense, it is done from smaller pieces. The trick is knowing how to get them all to go together."
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However, thoughts of being arrested are distracting from the much more preferable demonstration that is being offered, and Jamie turns his full attention to watching Braxiatel. He's quiet for short while, then nods. "Aye," he says slowly. "I think I see what ye are doing."
It looks simple enough to him, and he thinks that he can do the same. Oh, maybe not as precisely, but he's confident he can recreate the motions and get something that looks similar. "Can I give it a go?"
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He leaves it with the others, settling back down and starting the process of trying to recreate the battleship from memory. After much careful folding, he comes up with...nothing at all, unfortunately. It just looks like a folded mess.
"Och."
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The comment, however, triggers a rather disgruntled look. "Why would I need a book for?" he says stubbornly. "It's just folding paper."
He is doing his best to attempt to imitate Brax's movements, but they start getting less and less controlled as he fails to get some of the finickier movements right and gets frustrated. He fudges it slightly, bending some of the smaller folds in ways they're not really supposed to go. The end result does manage to look a bit like a flower - if you squint.
"...Maybe ye have a point."
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"Well, I don't know what ye would want that for, but all right. Ye can have it if ye like." He obligingly hands the flower over, but gives it a thoughtful once over once it's in Brax's possession. "Now that I think about it, I suppose ye could use it to start a fire or something. Better than leaving it the way it is."
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"If ye must. Just don't go telling the Doctor I made that, aye?"
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His use of Brax's name reminds him of something he's been wondering for some time, and he can't for the life of him remember if he's actually asked it to Brax directly. Too much has happened lately to keep it all straight. Jamie decides to go ahead and just ask anyway. If for some reason he's wrong, well, then, it's no more embarrassing then that flower he tried to make.
"Hey, I meant to ask ye something. I know Oliver calls ye Irving. Do ye generally prefer that over your actual name?"
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So he nods, and says, "Well, then. I'll just have to keep that in mind." It likely will mean that Jamie falls into the habit of calling Brax 'Irving' as well. It does suit the Time Lord, in an odd sort of way.
The movement causes another stray bit of straw to float off, and Jamie notices it out of the corner of his eye. "I suppose I should go back to the cell," he says reluctantly. "I know they won't know I'm gone while I'm here, but I've got to figure a way out of there somehow, aye?"
He had been hoping coming here would help him think. All it seems to have done is provide a distraction, however. Not a bad thing in and of itself, but it doesn't help his current situation. At least he's got a book now, although he really can't think of much to do with it besides possibly hit a guard in the face with it as a distraction.
Given the look he's giving the book right at the moment, he may very well be planning on doing just that.