IC: There is a low breath, and the moon-eyes close. The Dark Man’s face is black and empty as a mirror, and in it Alistair can see his own face reflected back.
“Axiom. It means truth.”
“Thank you Alistair, for sharing this with me. Your tale is not uncommon among those of mankind. I too tried to end war on my world. I was weak. And I failed. But you have reminded me of this. Of my purpose.”
He raises his other hand and places it on Alistair’s shoulder. It’s almost a familial gesture. The air begins to raise in temperature.
“I can end war, Alistair. Would you like that?”
The air is darkening. The black particles fill the air again, and change, images dancing across them as they circle the doctor and Axiom.
A world empty of war
Where the nations trade and live in peace and without fear
Where the horrors of mankind are bound away, and the madness within them seared off and replaced with altruism, with virtue
The Doctor sees himself, an image of the boy from that world of guns and death. He sees himself whole, unscarred by pain or war, playing other children. Normal children, without guns or the hatred of soldiers in them.
Lay down your sword, Alistair, and take up my cross. Give to me the weapon you would judge the children of men with.
I would have them walk a different path.
Do this, and we can build this world you speak of. A world without war.
The images end, and all that remains are Axiom’s eyes, staring at Alistair like stars.
@jayzor17
IC: The person is a older man, looks to be about in their 50’s. A torn coat is wrapped around their body.
Their face.
The left side of their face is burnt almost, the same alien rust that was consuming the robot. Like a mix of scars and…something other.
Their breaths are shallow and barely perceptible.
“He…he…ll…o.”
They seem to be speaking, very…poorly.