Returning to Olympus

[Doctor Deus]

His right hand moved, and it continued to do so. He walked the length of the control panels, curving around to form a semi-perfect circle. Sure, there may have been better models, models that didn't try and digest you, but none-the-less the Doctor, Doctor of everything, loved the TARDIS. He loved it as a mother is conventionally expected to cherish her child. It was an uncanny bond that joined them; they were the last two of their kind. Or so they had been lead to believe these past few centuries.
With a slightly complacent half-smile, no more than a few twitches here and there upon his lips, what had gone so terribly wrong? Allowing his sorry excuse for a smile to slip away, the Doctor cast his eyes away from the shimmering control panel. His hand raising and lowering for a moment, patting his trusted friend, comfortingly. A companion that would be with him always. Expressing an inward sigh he pulled away. Trying to abandon his glum expression, his thoughts about his former companion.
Glancing away, allowing his dark eyes to move effortlessly, the Doctor examined the trusted interior of his friend. Although it seemed to be bordering on the size of a decently large warehouse it was only the Console Room, there was an infinite amount of rooms branching this way and that. Oh the wonders of the TARDIS.
Tensing and relaxing his smooth shoulders, the Doctor began to manoeuvre out of his brown pinstripe waistcoat. With a mixture of expressions, mostly that of confusion, he began to slide his arms out of the tailored item. It had taken a few attempts, but eventually he was free from his waistcoat. With his arms behind his back, his muscles tensing a tad, he allowed the item of clothing to simply slide down until it rested in the palms of his hands.
Allowing his left hand to stray away, the Doctor pulled the waistcoat around to his front, holding it delicately in his right hand. Folding it, in a somewhat rough fashion, he draped it over the railing that ran around the entire circular length of the console room, although a prominent gap displayed the many rooms below.
To his left, turning his head, his eyes following suit, he glanced at a similar item draped over the railing. It was his brown pinstripe suit jacket, which had been with him an age and a half. Picking it up with care, curling his slim fingers around the collar. The Doctor made a swift sweeping motion; in that one move his jacket came to rest upon his back. It was only a matter of slipping his arms inside and hey-presto, he was done.
Flexing his fingers for a moment, nodding his head approvingly a little over the top...ish. Stretching his arms around he began to fumble with the buttons. Furrowing his brow slightly, twisting his jaw this way and that, stamping his foot occasionally. Before long he was leaning back against the railing, head hanging back, eyes closed, his jacket buttoned up, panting slightly from the strenuous activity. "Exercise for the day..." the Doctor trailed off, muttering it slightly. Jumping up, smoothing down his front with his palms, he grinned, "Check."
Practically bouncing forward, the Doctor slammed his hand down. Hitting a nice, blue button. With his momentarily free hand, he yanked down a lever. Instantly the roaring of the TARDIS stopped, there was an abrupt shudder which would have had the Doctor sprawled on the floor if he had not expected it to have occurred. With a grin he literally span, danced, dashed away from the controls.
Parting his arms he burst through the blue doors of the TARDIS, until he stood, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the scene before him. A few heads turned to view the newcomer, standing in front of what seemed to resemble a police box. That was some sight. He was some Doctor.

[Mnemosyne]

Mnemosyne, sick and tired of melodramatic, out-of-date gods who still thought togas were de rigeur, had wandered up to Middle Mount, hoping to see something worth the effort before departing for Earth once more.
So far, no luck. Just reams and reams of immortal idiots milling around, mooching and doing nothing of worth. No change there then. It was like immortality brought about a strange work ethic, or lack thereof, so almost all who possessed it were compelled to do absolutely nothing, all day, every day, until the end of time. You'd think they'd try to do something constructive, but noo... it's all "bring on the naked nymphs" and "pass that amphora". They made her so ashamed to be of the same breed sometimes.
As she turned to begin the long, irritating walk back down the mountain, a sound came to her ears. It was a strange sound, growing louder then softer, an electronic roar. Then there was a sort of "thump" noise, and then silence, tempered only by the sound of feet on paving and the curious mutterings of the ever-present Olympian crowds.
Curiosity aroused, and not really wanting to have to walk all the way home quite yet, Mnemosyne turned, pushing through the hoardes of two-bit gods and preening naiads. They greeted her presence with the normal muttered cursing or cold disregard, but it had never bothered her in the past, and it wasn't going to start now.
A little way up the slope, there was a contraption she recognised as being a... police box...? It had certainly never been there before. She swatted a fawning satyr from her line of view, to see a man standing, rather proprietorialy, it seemed, in front of the contraption.
With a small laugh and a shake of her head, she meandered up, noting his very-human suit and shoes, and very-human hairstyle. No togas in sight. She liked him already. But she supposed she ought to make a semblance of sticking to the rules. They were boring, but they let her wander up here at will, so she wasn't going to break any of them just yet.
Her face showing her complete lack of belief in her words, she stood in front of the newcomer, and spake thusly.
'Are you an invader, malignant entity, unlawful trespasser or other being forbidden access to this most sacred sanctum?' The last words dripped sarcasm.
She continued.
'Very dramatic entrance, by the way. Loving the special effects.'