Merged

'The Toymaker, the Guardian of Dreams, is unwell, Doctor. You brought me here, you deliberately or otherwise enabled him to use me as a template for a physical form. However, guardians, and indeed the Great Old Ones, don‘t need permanent physical form.‘

'I have been unable to rid myself of Rallon,‘ the Toymaker said. 'I had no idea of this, of course. Over the aeons we had effectively become one, I was unaware that he even existed. But it has taken its toll upon me. The tides of time are catching up with me - having even the essence of Rallon within me is causing me traumas. We cannot separate - I am locked in a physical state that, unknown to me, began to degenerate over the years.‘

'Like a virus,‘ the Doctor said. 'Your existential self has tried to expunge the disease, but can‘t.‘ He folded his arms. 'I see your problem.‘

The Toymaker nodded. 'As a result, not only am I in danger of... well, dying - which I need not remind you would be catastrophic for the balance of the universe - but our minds are fragmenting.‘

'A schizoid god.‘ The Doctor thought about this. 'I don‘t see where I come in?‘

***

Divided Loyalties, Round 3, Chapter 2