wherever you may go
Who: river tam
What: myself keeps slipping away (a happy anniversary)
When: Jun 27
Where: her Room. kaylee's place
Rating: Low
Status: Closed. Complete.
It began here:
First, sunlight illuminated her world, blinding to the point of nightmarish intensity...
There was this...painting. While already a relic of Earth-That-Was in River's time, in 2009, it was a decade's old piece. Unforgettable and universally recognized by most standards. River didn't exactly remember if she'd first seen it in her childhood (a digital encyclopedia perhaps?) or if it had been upon her arrival in Aternaville, looking through the Doctor's many books and the public library's meager literature. Perhaps, considering the painting's subject matter, that fact was very ironic.
The artwork in question was a beautiful piece -- if you like that sort of thing. A dry landscape, barren but for a cliff in the distance and a tree that more resembled a discarded twig set on end. A sky painted delicate yellows and blues promised sunrise. But it's the clocks that draw your attention immediately, and it's the clocks that you'll remember when you look away. Four of them, arranged as if they'd fallen from the sky and into a hellish heat, melting into a mirage of themselves. One, a pocketwatch with the decency to stay closed, crawled with ants mimicking time.
At first you don't understand the final object of the painting, melted at an angle almost beyond recognition, but that's what River remembers most. A memory of skin, a false eyelash and a tuft of eyebrow, the silver clock with its long hand perpetually indicating two minutes past twelve melting over where the cheek used to be. That is her focus. The Dreamer; sleeping while the world around him melts into eaten-away puddles of color.
People dream, and when they do it's only natural to fixate on what you can remember afterward. But dreams don't normally leave you with the ability to control people, or the horrifyingly unique sensation that you're a monster. Well, River always knew she was the latter, on the inside, but it was a thought tamped down over the past year with the help of the Doctor and his invisible kit of helpful thoughts.
Not that she meant to devalue the work Simon had done for her. River would never forget what her brother did. He'd rescued her, found the code in her letters when no one else did.
He never stopped believing she'd get better.
But she had to admit, in her more lucid moments, that he didn't understand some problems couldn't be fixed with vitamin C and echinacea. Bitter pill after bitter pill, and only half of them stayed down. Another quarter of the ones that did were able to help. For a little while. After a while, she thought sullenly that it wasn't worth the bitterness.
what does she do ?
She stood sleepless at the window, a drape in either hand and squinting through a distortion of glass. Not ten minutes ago she told Kaylee the eighth time this month to -- Go Away. I'm fine. -- when she wasn't. And Kaylee was not so gullible, but with this new talent, this new...power...River made fools of them all. She spoke and made it necessary for people to listen. While it was almost dreamlike (imagine getting everything you wanted with only your voice being the control) River saw another persistent curse to add to her list of ailments. While it would have been prudent to call the Doctor weeks ago when this all began, River wouldn't. No matter how horrific the nightmare had been, River now began wishing that this moment, and the moment before it, and the moment after it, were all a part of the same dream.
Melting clocks would have been preferable.
happy anniversary.
What: myself keeps slipping away (a happy anniversary)
When: Jun 27
Where: her Room. kaylee's place
Rating: Low
Status: Closed. Complete.
It began here:
First, sunlight illuminated her world, blinding to the point of nightmarish intensity...
There was this...painting. While already a relic of Earth-That-Was in River's time, in 2009, it was a decade's old piece. Unforgettable and universally recognized by most standards. River didn't exactly remember if she'd first seen it in her childhood (a digital encyclopedia perhaps?) or if it had been upon her arrival in Aternaville, looking through the Doctor's many books and the public library's meager literature. Perhaps, considering the painting's subject matter, that fact was very ironic.
The artwork in question was a beautiful piece -- if you like that sort of thing. A dry landscape, barren but for a cliff in the distance and a tree that more resembled a discarded twig set on end. A sky painted delicate yellows and blues promised sunrise. But it's the clocks that draw your attention immediately, and it's the clocks that you'll remember when you look away. Four of them, arranged as if they'd fallen from the sky and into a hellish heat, melting into a mirage of themselves. One, a pocketwatch with the decency to stay closed, crawled with ants mimicking time.
At first you don't understand the final object of the painting, melted at an angle almost beyond recognition, but that's what River remembers most. A memory of skin, a false eyelash and a tuft of eyebrow, the silver clock with its long hand perpetually indicating two minutes past twelve melting over where the cheek used to be. That is her focus. The Dreamer; sleeping while the world around him melts into eaten-away puddles of color.
People dream, and when they do it's only natural to fixate on what you can remember afterward. But dreams don't normally leave you with the ability to control people, or the horrifyingly unique sensation that you're a monster. Well, River always knew she was the latter, on the inside, but it was a thought tamped down over the past year with the help of the Doctor and his invisible kit of helpful thoughts.
Not that she meant to devalue the work Simon had done for her. River would never forget what her brother did. He'd rescued her, found the code in her letters when no one else did.
He never stopped believing she'd get better.
But she had to admit, in her more lucid moments, that he didn't understand some problems couldn't be fixed with vitamin C and echinacea. Bitter pill after bitter pill, and only half of them stayed down. Another quarter of the ones that did were able to help. For a little while. After a while, she thought sullenly that it wasn't worth the bitterness.
what does she do ?
She stood sleepless at the window, a drape in either hand and squinting through a distortion of glass. Not ten minutes ago she told Kaylee the eighth time this month to -- Go Away. I'm fine. -- when she wasn't. And Kaylee was not so gullible, but with this new talent, this new...power...River made fools of them all. She spoke and made it necessary for people to listen. While it was almost dreamlike (imagine getting everything you wanted with only your voice being the control) River saw another persistent curse to add to her list of ailments. While it would have been prudent to call the Doctor weeks ago when this all began, River wouldn't. No matter how horrific the nightmare had been, River now began wishing that this moment, and the moment before it, and the moment after it, were all a part of the same dream.
Melting clocks would have been preferable.
happy anniversary.