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Have this fellow, smiling in a strangely soft, nostalgic way.

"Well. Will helps. I suppose." Although he sounds as much doubtful as thoughtful. He raises a finger. "But then you have to back up and get into defining 'will'. And power, for that matter. Words are tricky like that."

He draws himself up, with truly imperial hauteur. The mark of the sanest of the Masters, really - the one with the most self-control. Before defeat after defeat, escaping from death in every which way, sent them down strange courses.

"No, semantics are tricky. The words themselves are a simple enough choice."

"Semantics gives those choice of words weight," the Doctor shoots back. "Make them more than empty rhetoric pleasing to the ear. Communication rather than mouth sounds at each other."

Goodness knows he and Master had done plenty of the latter, and not nearly enough of the communication, through the centuries.

He gestures with both hands, with a nod that is a near bow. "Elaborate if you...will," he adds, with a sardonic grin.

Edited (typo) 2020-12-22 13:40 (UTC)

Sounds boring.

[ His voice is haughty, his expression arch, but he can't quite keep the wistful edge out of either. ]

EGGS AND FLOUR ARE WHAT MATTERS.

CUPCAKES FOLLOW.

Always the same, isn't it? Even the smallest things become cause for disagreement. Once, when he still went by Koschei, things had been different.

"Nothing I have ever said is ever empty. You know that better than anyone. I will reserve semantics for when I need them."

Like when he is hiding under an assumed identity. Then it's all...lies, the dance. It's quite enjoyable, really. Hiding in plain sight.

[And he looks over this new face - but old soul - with a very carefully neutral face.]

Well, well. Familiar, yet different. No velvet, this time?

[Wonderful. You know what makes a Dalek even more aggravating? When it says things you can't predict or qualify.]

...Cupcakes.

The Doctor sighs softly, and straightens, his playful mood dimming a little.

No, be fair, he tells himself. The version of you contemporary to this one blew variably hot and cold on the turn of a dime. Why should the Master recognize an actual friendly invitation to talk?

"So you don't care to elucidate on your initial statement?" he presses, voice dropping a little softer.

"Thinking aloud," he lies, easily, to cover what he had thought would be an unobserved remark. "People misunderstand what power is, and how it is acquired."

It was, in the end, how he survived, time and again. Trailing all the way back to the dark heart - where Koschei had ceased to be, and he had emerged.

"As ever, you are more curious than you ought to be, Doctor. And you seem to be occupying ever younger forms in your...older age."

He just ignores the remark about apparent and real age. It's hardly a unique observation.

"More curious than I ought to be?" he echoes, quietly amused. "So, you don't care to discuss the topic further? You could, you know, Master, just say so."

He turns back to the incomplete machine, gloved hands tapping it. The nearly complete machine. Another part is slid into place.

"No, I do not." The past was the past, and he had no desire to live there. Even if it had defined him.

But it had created the will that would be necessary to remake the universe, to make it better. More orderly.

[Eyestalk nod.]

DALEKS MAKE SUPERIOR CUPCAKES.

What, you don't like the hoodie? [ As if, yes, that's the most significant difference. ]

"Ah," the Doctor says, disappointed. But he probably shouldn't be surprised. How tightly the Time Lord in front of him must hold to his personal axioms about power, he thinks, to maintain his sense of self. Of course those aren't up for honest discussion.

"What about what you're working on?" he prompts, openly curious.

"Dabbling," he responded.

And it was all he had. In times past, and in times to come, that will to power - that will to survive - will keep him going when he is barely more than a decayed shell.

"The acceleration of radio waves through transdimensional space."

And, of course, what they can carry with them.

[Has...has he been poisoned?]

Since when do Daleks bake?

The Doctor pauses, and enunciates carefully, "Daffodils?"

Well, the Master will either know what he's talking about, or he won't. Or he'll pretend he won't; that's another option.

SINCE THE VERY INCEPTION OF THE DALEKS.

IT IS OUR SOLE PURPOSE TO ENSURE THE COMFORT OF ALL OTHER BEINGS.

There is a slight, brief smile.

"An interesting first attempt, you'll agree, but there is so much more one can likely achieve."

Not in particular.

[He folds his hands in front of him.]

But how far along are you, now?

[He laughs, briefly. What madness is this.]

I think your creator would disagree. As would every Dalek I have ever met.

I'm crushed. Not your preferred way of crushing me, I know, but consider it a consolation prize. [ He sounds entirely too cheerful about this. ]

How far do you think?

Interesting isn't quite the word the Doctor would use. More like 'creatively sinister and deadly'.

"Achieve with the Nestene Consciousness as an ally?" he presses, doubtfully.

"No, no I'm quite tired of Autons. So limited, and so little imagination. No, my dear Doctor, they were...playthings, I suppose. A jaunty beginning to our renewed combat, as it were. The stakes, as ever, must be raised."

Do it well, and do it with flair, with a hint of grace - that's his way. Anybody can start a conflagration, really, but the trick is to make the inferno carve out its path to your tempo.

[He sighs, folding his hands behind his back.]

Really, a guessing game? You must be far along then, to revert to such childishness - tenth perhaps? Even further? No...

[A gloved hand comes up, shaking a finger.]

No, there is an air about you. Further still...

And you're young enough to take yourself too seriously. [ For all the centuries, all the changes, he has a familiar sly sparkle in his eyes. ]

Twelve. [ Not strictly true, but he won't risk giving those particular details. ]

Oh. Oh, dear.

You've always believed something like that, haven't you, old chap.

"They really don't have to be, you know," the Doctor replies, carefully keeping his tone conversational. "It's a good way to have things get away from you. Like they did with the Autons, as I recall."

Hmph. Young enough that I haven't worn thin, yet. You know what they say about regeneration, after all. That the further down the line you go, the more it becomes...a photocopy of a photocopy, and so on.

[A strictly unnecessary barb, but he'll not be condescended to.]

Well, so many. I do hope at least a few regenerations are on my account.

[And the gloved hands tighten, just a bit. Just noticeably. So it's this version, then. The cause of all of it.]

And I have been right. One need only glance at the history of your beloved Earth to see that writ large upon their history.

"As with everything I have done, all well within my grasp - barring your interference. But...therein lies the challenge."

"One day, however long the road, I will triumph."

[ooc: oh, I did love that book, is it okay to use Koschei/etc?]

[He draws himself up to his not very impressive height, clutching his lapels, but there's also obvious sadness in his eyes]

You shouldn't mistake part of the truth for the whole of it, though. But that's always been an issue with you, mm?

[ Cute, Master.

He should know better than to let his smile flicker, to remember his own insecurities on that subject, and yet. ]

Some of us improve with age, and that would be telling.

[ He sounds more exasperated than anything. To someone who didn't know him, this might point towards a "no". ]

[Who better to needle away, really? They knew each other well. Too well, really.]

An intriguing prospect. Perhaps I'll even meet my future selves. Who will, I trust, maintain my high standards.

((OOC: Oh, gosh, by all means! It'll be a great change!))

Indeed? And what truth have I failed to grasp, hmm? That you and the Time Lords both betrayed me, and left me to perish?

[ Oh good, it's his turn. He makes a show of tapping at his lips. ]

Well, some of them.

For a given definition of "standards".

[There is a momentary tic of visible annoyance. He had, in the moment, allowed himself to walk easily into one.]

So long as I avoid tweed trousers, I should be quite fine, shouldn't I?

[ He doesn't try to stop the satisfied smirk. Serves you right. ]

Fair point, absolutely none of you could pull them off. [ His tone, naturally, is pitying. ]

"Maybe not quite the way you think you will," the Doctor says, pensively.

"Ultimate victory, Doctor, is the objective. Form is frankly immaterial."

There is a slight pause, and the slightest hint of a smile.

"So long as there is some style to it, of course."

[He nods, gravely.]

And you would well know, yes.

Don't try to insult my taste, it's impeccable.

He doesn't see the smile - although he can guess it's there from the tone- because he's closed his eyes.

He'd really thought he'd have more fun with this conversation. This version of the Master is so young, and Doctor is far too old to be the same sort of self righteous the Master is used to - or at least so he believes. He doesn't feel the frantic need to win, at least.

But right now he's just sad, to see Koschei locked in absolutes and fallacies. "Ultimate victory - what does that even mean?" he mutters. "How can you detach method and form from defining it? How does that even make sense?"

He'd almost rather deal with the Master plotting horrible things just to survive. That wasn't good; it broke his hearts in a different way. But, that, at least was easier to understand.

((yay! I'm frantically rereading it now lmao please yell if I do anything stupid))

[Two winces] Yes, yes, yes, all right, but I imagine you should look at your own actions prior to those events. That tends to be where you fall down, doesn't it?

'They tried to kill me... by leaving me in the trap I set for them!'

'They ate the last pancake... after I'd eaten the other ten and scoffed all the clotted cream as well!'

Sometimes it's a matter of perspective, Koschei.

[He winces again at the use of that word, but really? If there's any chance to reach his old friend, even after he turned himself into this Master person? Then he'll take it.]

[And that - that name - washes him past what should be a moment of introspection, what could be. What could be something else entirely. And the control, for a moment, slips away entirely.]

Do not dare use that name with me! The black hole stripped it away, as it did so much! As you well know!