faerietalemuse March
Myth
(taking into consideration the DW novel the Stone Rose for this prompt.)
There was something different, wholly disorienting about seeing a statue bearing the face that looked back at her in the mirror every morning. Rose could pick apart the same lines that bridged and outlined her nose, where imperfections nested and resided in places she tried to erase but to no avail, because no amount of cleanser or moisturizer could completely remove a birthmark her great-grandmother had been proud to pass onward. No amount of concealer hid it away and even the sculptor had captured it, right beneath her chin. No one else would notice it, but she would. She always would.
In the artificial lighting of the museum the statue looked as if it were made of opal or moonstone rather than the marble it was sculpted from, something that came out of the sky, crafted by stardust with moonlight touching against the updo of her hair. The sight itself was beautiful, the image of immortality that beonged in art books and postcards.
And it was nothing that she wanted.
It was strange, how something you thought you wanted became the very thing you wanted to erase.
The Doctor's hand touched the place above her elbow with long, inquisitive fingers and when she turned her hair brushed across his coat, leaving a strand or two behind. That's the kind of immortality I think I'd like rattled around in her mind as an afterthought, wound into the fabric of the life of someone I love. Not...that.
“Can we go now?”
“Quite right. Come on.”
She didn't look back, and didn't turn her head to see if the Doctor did.
Muse: Rose Tyler
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 270