[mind_the_muse] - What is the hardest decision you've ever made?
There is never enough time, she thinks. And it is always so terribly fickle.
It comes and goes and never gives warning. For one so vastly in tune with it, Time has ways of slipping past her without notice, of confusing and surprising, of helping and hurting alike. It is mercurial and errant and follows no set path, no linear progression, and she can see it all as it unfolds like scattered waves before her without rhyme or reason.
He wakes in the dark, cold and bare and lost, and his fear is her own.
Fear of the unknown, fear of the darkness, fear of himself.
He beats down the sadness in his uncertainty, unaware of its significance, unaware of its source, for he cannot remember who she is.
That is a fear, as well.
{I am here. I am waiting. Do not forget me.}
+++
The raucous ring of a gunshot echoes against the grimy walls of the alley, mingling with the sounds of humans and cities and ignorance and silence.
It cannot contend with the aching scream no one else hears.
{Why must you love those who take you from me?}
+++
She welcomes him home with the soft, joyful warmth of her song, humming excitedly to see him.
He wears a new face, a pleasant one, a different one, an ugly one, an old one -- it is a face, and she has known it for some time, even before he took it.
It is his face, just as surely as it is not, and as she feels with each regeneration, she welcomes him as she mourns.
But she has been lonely, so the mourning does not last long.
It can wait until they've more time together.
{I have missed you. Do not leave me again.}
+++
He is elated, dancing beneath stars he is seeing for the first time with eyes bright from birth.
They sing the song of centuries to him and she hums along with them, resonating in his mind, calling him back to himself as he struggles with the newness of it all.
{You are mine and I yours. This is only our beginning.}
+++
As he always has, he gives her a gentle pat after opening the doors, an affectionate farewell before he goes about in the land of men.
It is a promise to return, a sentiment of love, and she hums beneath his fingertips in her own version of good-bye.
{I love you.}
She sees all these in the span of moments as he stands, stretching lazily and placing a well-worn book on the arm of his chair. They play over and over, illuminated in her mind like pinpricks of light through thin fabric, each one agonising as it is brilliant as it is inevitable.
He dons his hat and hooks his brollie over his arm, humming tunelessly to himself, and makes his way to her console to open the doors that will lead him to his death. She says nothing, knowing the order of events, and hums gently beneath his fingertips.
When he turns away and takes that first step, she dims her lights. It is the only mourning she will let him see.
Muse: The TARDIS
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 508
Written for the wonderful
timewill_tell
It comes and goes and never gives warning. For one so vastly in tune with it, Time has ways of slipping past her without notice, of confusing and surprising, of helping and hurting alike. It is mercurial and errant and follows no set path, no linear progression, and she can see it all as it unfolds like scattered waves before her without rhyme or reason.
He wakes in the dark, cold and bare and lost, and his fear is her own.
Fear of the unknown, fear of the darkness, fear of himself.
He beats down the sadness in his uncertainty, unaware of its significance, unaware of its source, for he cannot remember who she is.
That is a fear, as well.
{I am here. I am waiting. Do not forget me.}
+++
The raucous ring of a gunshot echoes against the grimy walls of the alley, mingling with the sounds of humans and cities and ignorance and silence.
It cannot contend with the aching scream no one else hears.
{Why must you love those who take you from me?}
+++
She welcomes him home with the soft, joyful warmth of her song, humming excitedly to see him.
He wears a new face, a pleasant one, a different one, an ugly one, an old one -- it is a face, and she has known it for some time, even before he took it.
It is his face, just as surely as it is not, and as she feels with each regeneration, she welcomes him as she mourns.
But she has been lonely, so the mourning does not last long.
It can wait until they've more time together.
{I have missed you. Do not leave me again.}
+++
He is elated, dancing beneath stars he is seeing for the first time with eyes bright from birth.
They sing the song of centuries to him and she hums along with them, resonating in his mind, calling him back to himself as he struggles with the newness of it all.
{You are mine and I yours. This is only our beginning.}
+++
As he always has, he gives her a gentle pat after opening the doors, an affectionate farewell before he goes about in the land of men.
It is a promise to return, a sentiment of love, and she hums beneath his fingertips in her own version of good-bye.
{I love you.}
She sees all these in the span of moments as he stands, stretching lazily and placing a well-worn book on the arm of his chair. They play over and over, illuminated in her mind like pinpricks of light through thin fabric, each one agonising as it is brilliant as it is inevitable.
He dons his hat and hooks his brollie over his arm, humming tunelessly to himself, and makes his way to her console to open the doors that will lead him to his death. She says nothing, knowing the order of events, and hums gently beneath his fingertips.
When he turns away and takes that first step, she dims her lights. It is the only mourning she will let him see.
Muse: The TARDIS
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 508
Written for the wonderful
timewill_tell