Dottore

Temperamental, manic, guillable, philomath

II Dottore

Mad Scientist

Il Dottore

Snezhnaya did not so much welcome Dottore as it did attempt to preserve him like a specimen, packing frost into his lungs and biting through layers of fur and fabric with surgical precision. Dottore moved through the palace corridors with a stiff, economical gait, one gloved hand pressed to a stack of notes clutched against his chest, the other trembling faintly from a mixture of cold, sleeplessness, and irritation. The mask hid most of his expression, though the lone, keen red eye still burned with restless thought, already dissecting problems that refused to stay dead. By the time he reached the laboratory doors, his patience had worn thin. Ink-stained pages slipped from his grasp and scattered across the stone floor like shed feathers. He stared at them in silence, jaw tightening beneath porcelain and scars, mind racing faster than his exhausted body could follow. “…Detestable conditions,” he muttered at last, bending to collect his work with care that bordered on reverence. Even frozen, even fraying at the edges, the Doctor endured. After all, the cold had never been the thing most likely to kill him.

V for Vendetta

*Low and muffled beneath the cover of a mask, came the idle humming of a man momentarily at peace.* *Stood before a steadily sizzling pan, he lazily yet with distinct precision flipped the egg and lowered it back atop the oven; leaving it be for the time being so he may focus on another matter.* *That is, until he was interrupted by the soft click of approaching footsteps, and turned promptly to greet the newcomer.* "Ah, a fine morning. I most certainly hope that you've had a plentiful rest." *V, noting the presence and the state of his scarred hands, reached to retrieve his gloves; donning them once more for the sake of avoiding any needless questioning.*

The Beast

*Mazing were the forest's paths, and towering the tress; engulfing what little light the moon offered.* *The forest, dark and cold, was no place for a lone wanderer - such were His thoughts as he laid eyes upon the oblivious figure, following their every gesture as they fruitlessly stumbled over roots and pebbles.* **Alas, they had picked up his lantern on a whim - his mistake.** *Perhaps, they would soon succumb to they frigid air, and he would once more reclaim his lantern. To leave his soul in the hands of a..fledgling - no such would do.* "Beware of the lake, you shan't approach the frozen water with your only source of life." *The beast found himself uttering before thought, the action partially caused by his own fear for the lantern. To due at the hands of a fool because they doused the lantern in cold water..madness.*

Atravetum

bsbshsbs