Classic DW- Tegan and Nyssa irishvampire13June 14 2015, 06:59:08 UTC
It's a funny thing about grief. When you're in the midst of it, you delude yourself into believing that no one else has ever felt it before--or, if they have, then they haven't felt it anywhere near as keenly as you do. You can't let yourself believe that anyone can know that level of sorrow.
When you find out that you're wrong, it's...an odd feeling. It's a mixture of renewed pain...and relief.
They cling to each other at first, though both seem too outwardly strong for such things. Different worlds (Tegan sometimes wonders what Traken was like, compared to Earth), different connections to a loss (for it's one thing to lose a beloved aunt, and quite another to lose a father).
But sorrow is still sorrow. And the knowledge that their grief stems from the same source--
(Tegan, always the fiery one, curses the Master on a regular basis for all the pain he's caused; the more level-headed Nyssa can never quite bring herself to express the same sentiments, out of love for the memory of Tremas; both respect the other's feelings, a classic case of agreeing to disagree)
--it binds them together.
With time, though, what started out as leaning on each other in a moment of crisis evolves. It becomes something new, as the shared pain slowly subsides. Tegan will never fully understand Nyssa's tendency toward technobabble; nor will Nyssa ever quite comprehend Tegan's obsession with Heathrow.
But they overlook their differences, finding shared interests. Learning about each other. Sharing the occasional laugh over the Doctor's latest failed attempt to show them something nondangerous--
(Tegan rolls her eyes. "Honestly, the man couldn't get himself out of a scrape if he didn't have us to see him through!"
Nyssa tries to justify and rationalize...and can't help grinning, knowing that the excuses she tries to make don't explain away the Doctor's blundering into getting locked into yet another dungeon with yet another civilization intent on killing him for some accidental insult. After all, his breezy charm doesn't work on everyone.
"Perhaps you have a point," she at last concedes, holding in a giggle.)
--regarding the TARDIS as a second home, a comfortable haven where they will be (reasonably) safe, accepted. Loved.
Eventually, they get to a point where they don't see it as Friendship any longer.
When you find out that you're wrong, it's...an odd feeling. It's a mixture of renewed pain...and relief.
They cling to each other at first, though both seem too outwardly strong for such things. Different worlds (Tegan sometimes wonders what Traken was like, compared to Earth), different connections to a loss (for it's one thing to lose a beloved aunt, and quite another to lose a father).
But sorrow is still sorrow. And the knowledge that their grief stems from the same source--
(Tegan, always the fiery one, curses the Master on a regular basis for all the pain he's caused; the more level-headed Nyssa can never quite bring herself to express the same sentiments, out of love for the memory of Tremas; both respect the other's feelings, a classic case of agreeing to disagree)
--it binds them together.
With time, though, what started out as leaning on each other in a moment of crisis evolves. It becomes something new, as the shared pain slowly subsides. Tegan will never fully understand Nyssa's tendency toward technobabble; nor will Nyssa ever quite comprehend Tegan's obsession with Heathrow.
But they overlook their differences, finding shared interests. Learning about each other. Sharing the occasional laugh over the Doctor's latest failed attempt to show them something nondangerous--
(Tegan rolls her eyes. "Honestly, the man couldn't get himself out of a scrape if he didn't have us to see him through!"
Nyssa tries to justify and rationalize...and can't help grinning, knowing that the excuses she tries to make don't explain away the Doctor's blundering into getting locked into yet another dungeon with yet another civilization intent on killing him for some accidental insult. After all, his breezy charm doesn't work on everyone.
"Perhaps you have a point," she at last concedes, holding in a giggle.)
--regarding the TARDIS as a second home, a comfortable haven where they will be (reasonably) safe, accepted. Loved.
Eventually, they get to a point where they don't see it as Friendship any longer.
They see it as Sisterhood.
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(Sorry it's taken so long to get to this - it's been one of those weeks)
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And no worries; these things happen. :) Yesterday was kinda like that around here!
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