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All my darkest memories play over and over in my mind like some kind of twisted symphony set to the drum-like beat of my hearts. They're all I have left now. I have no home, no family... I killed them. All of them. My parents, my children, my grandchildren. Every relative, every friend.
I spent my whole life trying to prevent such massacres, but in the universe's sickly irony, the greatest genocide was mine. There may have been no other choice, but then again, who the hell do I think I am?! I am no god. What right did I have? There is no excuse for what I did.
Gallifrey burned. Skaro burned. The Daleks, the Nestenes, the Gelth... The Time Lords. They all burned. And being the infinite coward I am, I did not stay to burn with them.
To protect the rest of the universe I committed the most disgusting murder time has ever known. He who would call me a hero is a fool. The Daleks were right. I am the Bringer of Darkness.
But amidst all the terrible things I have done, there is one memory- darker than the rest- that torments me as I lie here dying, preparing to regenerate. Just one.
You. Your eyes, locked with mine and full of hurt and betrayal as the Eye of Harmony consumes you.
Memories are all that remain of you, Koschei. And by Rassilon, I hate myself for not saving you. I'm the Doctor. I'm supposed to make people better, not kill them. But I'm also a coward, and killing was easy. Living with it, on the other hand, has proven less than simple.
I told someone once that I wasn't afraid of the monsters; that they were afraid of me. And I know why. There is no greater monster in the universe than the last Time Lord. I am at the top of a long foodchain of horrors and I am deeply, utterly alone. A loneliness of my own making.
I know that when my final life reaches its end the universe will not mourn, but sigh in relief. I can only hope that I will be forgotten. Because I don't want to be forgiven.
Poor, poor angsty Doctor.
I had an urge to draw Eight, and when the theme Dark came up I thought it a perfect opportunity to imagine what his last thoughts would have been before he regenerated into Nine. After all, he was most likely Eight when he time-locked the war and burned everything in it. I don't imagine he'd be very happy. I ended up writing that little companion piece to elaborate on his state of mind.
Media: Prismacolour markers, gel pen, micron pen.
Doctor Who copyright to the BBC. Artwork copyright to me.
I spent my whole life trying to prevent such massacres, but in the universe's sickly irony, the greatest genocide was mine. There may have been no other choice, but then again, who the hell do I think I am?! I am no god. What right did I have? There is no excuse for what I did.
Gallifrey burned. Skaro burned. The Daleks, the Nestenes, the Gelth... The Time Lords. They all burned. And being the infinite coward I am, I did not stay to burn with them.
To protect the rest of the universe I committed the most disgusting murder time has ever known. He who would call me a hero is a fool. The Daleks were right. I am the Bringer of Darkness.
But amidst all the terrible things I have done, there is one memory- darker than the rest- that torments me as I lie here dying, preparing to regenerate. Just one.
You. Your eyes, locked with mine and full of hurt and betrayal as the Eye of Harmony consumes you.
Memories are all that remain of you, Koschei. And by Rassilon, I hate myself for not saving you. I'm the Doctor. I'm supposed to make people better, not kill them. But I'm also a coward, and killing was easy. Living with it, on the other hand, has proven less than simple.
I told someone once that I wasn't afraid of the monsters; that they were afraid of me. And I know why. There is no greater monster in the universe than the last Time Lord. I am at the top of a long foodchain of horrors and I am deeply, utterly alone. A loneliness of my own making.
I know that when my final life reaches its end the universe will not mourn, but sigh in relief. I can only hope that I will be forgotten. Because I don't want to be forgiven.
Poor, poor angsty Doctor.
I had an urge to draw Eight, and when the theme Dark came up I thought it a perfect opportunity to imagine what his last thoughts would have been before he regenerated into Nine. After all, he was most likely Eight when he time-locked the war and burned everything in it. I don't imagine he'd be very happy. I ended up writing that little companion piece to elaborate on his state of mind.
Media: Prismacolour markers, gel pen, micron pen.
Doctor Who copyright to the BBC. Artwork copyright to me.
Image size
5100x6411px 5.27 MB
Comments69
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Yes, this picture is now moot, but this would have been fittingly tragic to depict and cement the Eighth a nickname of 'The Tragic One' or something similar.