prompt response: oncoming_storms; 104.1 - rebellion
Monday:
The citizens of Tau Ceta Minor were embroiled in a desperate war with their counterparts on Tau Ceta Major over -
"Paisley and plaid?" Martha eyed the Doctor skeptically. "Really?"
"It's a religious debate," he explained patiently. "The priests of their god wear a special tartan while conducting ceremonies. Some of the Cetis want their priests to wear paisley - this one bloke says that a winged cow came to him and gave him tablets engraved with a new holy writ, which includes paisley."
"Why not argyle?" she muttered under her breath.
"Paisley looks better on ties?"
Tuesday:
After solving a heated religious debate, they'd woken up to discover that the factions had split again.
"The holy sandwiches must be cut in half crossways!"
"No, diagonally!"
Martha gave the Doctor the sort of look that questioned precisely why they were resolving such petty squibbles.
Wednesday:
After a short interplanetary hop to pick up the Doctor's favourite breakfast cereal, they returned to find a full-blown holy war in progress.
"Are they still fighting over sandwiches?" Martha asked.
The Doctor eyed the insignia on a fallen soldier's uniform.
"Remember," the man gasped, "...strawberry...jam..."
"Strawberry jam versus marmalade at tea."
Martha was really tempted to take these tablets of holy writ and beat the religious leaders over the head with them.
Thursday:
"So you see," the owner of the tablets explained, "I'm the only one who can translate them."
"Which has nothing to do with your monopoly on the weapons import trade." The Doctor eyed him suspiciously. "You just happen to be a prophet on the side."
"Precisely!" The man nodded emphatically.
"Weeeeell, perhaps you should go translate in peace and quiet. Isn't that right, Martha?"
Friday:
Having established the self-proclaimed prophet in a hermitage in a mountain range several thousands of miles from anything, the planet calmed down and ceased its religious schisms.
The Doctor and Martha had tea with the Archbishop. Grape jam was served, and the Archbishop herself was wearing argyle. (Martha didn't have the heart to tell her that it was most unflattering. She'd also been tutored in avoiding diplomatic incidents.)
"I'll be glad to leave all this behind," Martha muttered as they boarded the TARDIS.
The Doctor, quite wisely, didn't say anything.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 376
The citizens of Tau Ceta Minor were embroiled in a desperate war with their counterparts on Tau Ceta Major over -
"Paisley and plaid?" Martha eyed the Doctor skeptically. "Really?"
"It's a religious debate," he explained patiently. "The priests of their god wear a special tartan while conducting ceremonies. Some of the Cetis want their priests to wear paisley - this one bloke says that a winged cow came to him and gave him tablets engraved with a new holy writ, which includes paisley."
"Why not argyle?" she muttered under her breath.
"Paisley looks better on ties?"
Tuesday:
After solving a heated religious debate, they'd woken up to discover that the factions had split again.
"The holy sandwiches must be cut in half crossways!"
"No, diagonally!"
Martha gave the Doctor the sort of look that questioned precisely why they were resolving such petty squibbles.
Wednesday:
After a short interplanetary hop to pick up the Doctor's favourite breakfast cereal, they returned to find a full-blown holy war in progress.
"Are they still fighting over sandwiches?" Martha asked.
The Doctor eyed the insignia on a fallen soldier's uniform.
"Remember," the man gasped, "...strawberry...jam..."
"Strawberry jam versus marmalade at tea."
Martha was really tempted to take these tablets of holy writ and beat the religious leaders over the head with them.
Thursday:
"So you see," the owner of the tablets explained, "I'm the only one who can translate them."
"Which has nothing to do with your monopoly on the weapons import trade." The Doctor eyed him suspiciously. "You just happen to be a prophet on the side."
"Precisely!" The man nodded emphatically.
"Weeeeell, perhaps you should go translate in peace and quiet. Isn't that right, Martha?"
Friday:
Having established the self-proclaimed prophet in a hermitage in a mountain range several thousands of miles from anything, the planet calmed down and ceased its religious schisms.
The Doctor and Martha had tea with the Archbishop. Grape jam was served, and the Archbishop herself was wearing argyle. (Martha didn't have the heart to tell her that it was most unflattering. She'd also been tutored in avoiding diplomatic incidents.)
"I'll be glad to leave all this behind," Martha muttered as they boarded the TARDIS.
The Doctor, quite wisely, didn't say anything.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 376