[on_thecouch] - Past, present, future
"Lucy!"
The girl looks up in time to have the snowball peg her right in the head, sending her sprawling back off the bench she'd been sitting on, landing awkwardly in the snow. It's freezing and wet and she struggles to get back up as the girls who threw the original snowball lob another one her way. Thankfully it misses, but there's four against one, and their salvo is destined to hit her. She covers her head to protect it from the rain of frozen water while her attackers laugh maliciously.
They've never liked her, of course. They come from families without any sort of connections, any sort of class. Jealous and spiteful, they call her stupid, flighty, and enjoy tormenting her throughout the day when she stares out the window, imagining herself anywhere but at Academy. It's the only way they can be better than her, of course, and so she's told herself it's okay when they do this. She'll show them someday, prove just how wrong they are.
It hasn't made the tormenting stop, though, her haughty thoughts, nor has it given her the means to fight back. They still always win, and so she cowers beneath her mittens and muffler, bombarded by snowballs and heckles, until a rather loud voice cuts through the giggles.
"Oi, that's enough of that!"
Lucy looks up, surprised, to see a ridiculously tall man in equally ridiculous trainers giving her assailants a cursory 'shoo' motion, his expression clearly reading 'If you throw one more snowball, I will drop you in a snowbank.' He's far too scrawny to follow through with it, she's sure, but it's the type of look that sends the other girls scurrying, only nasty looks shot her way the remnants of their previous attack.
When he's sure they're gone, the man makes his way over to her in three even strides, offering a hand as he crouches down. His grin is absolutely ludicrous. "You all right?"
Lucy stares at his hand a moment, then sniffs and nods, struggling to stand up. Clumps of snow fall from her hair and down into her parka, but she only just barely flinches, intent on keeping herself from losing face even more. Her father would be furious if he saw even this. Still, she has to be polite, and he did help her, so she offers him a smile and takes his hand, curtseying once she lets go. "I'm fine, thank you."
The man's smile grows a bit bigger. "Brilliant! Well, I mean, it's not brilliant you got attacked, but it's brilliant you're good. Well, I mean -- well you know." His grin is all but plastered to his face. "So who might you be?"
She keeps smiling, though she wonders just where such a strange fellow has come from. He isn't dressed like a bum, though she doesn't recognise the jacket he's got on, and clothing in general is odd. Maybe he's a model for some new fashion line? "Lucy. I'm Lucy Cole. A pleasure."
For just a brief moment, it looks like his expression wavers. Then he whistles and nods, standing. "Well, Lucy, hope you're okay and all. I've gotta, um--" He looks off to his right and she follows his gaze, tilting her head curiously to see what looks like his twin come jogging toward them, long brown coat waving behind him. He's dressed like an absolute fool in a blue pinstriped suit and trainers. Maybe they're both just daft? Though the man who saved her looks a bit uncomfortable, switching from foot to foot before turning back to her. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so I've gotta go. You can get home fine from here?"
She nods. "I'll be fine," she replies, positively curious about this stranger. "I guess I should thank you, um...?"
He flashes her a grin. "Oh, it's not important," he says, waving a hand. "Bye, Lucy. See you 'round." And he runs off, cutting off the other man and grabbing his arm to turn him around. His twin looks affronted, glancing back toward her, and Lucy gives him a confused look before patting down her clothing and gathering her things.
London really was becoming such an odd place of late. She'd have to keep an eye out for the stranger again, though, if only to thank him properly. Really, not giving your name. What a daft thing to do. Her father would never let her live it down, letting him go without a proper thank you.
Then again, maybe this one time, he doesn't need to know. Turning back briefly to watch the men disappear around a corner, Lucy smiles. No. This would just be her little secret.
Muse: Lucy Saxon
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 771
Prompt picture: This one
Written for handysparehand and so I can use my new icons!
The girl looks up in time to have the snowball peg her right in the head, sending her sprawling back off the bench she'd been sitting on, landing awkwardly in the snow. It's freezing and wet and she struggles to get back up as the girls who threw the original snowball lob another one her way. Thankfully it misses, but there's four against one, and their salvo is destined to hit her. She covers her head to protect it from the rain of frozen water while her attackers laugh maliciously.
They've never liked her, of course. They come from families without any sort of connections, any sort of class. Jealous and spiteful, they call her stupid, flighty, and enjoy tormenting her throughout the day when she stares out the window, imagining herself anywhere but at Academy. It's the only way they can be better than her, of course, and so she's told herself it's okay when they do this. She'll show them someday, prove just how wrong they are.
It hasn't made the tormenting stop, though, her haughty thoughts, nor has it given her the means to fight back. They still always win, and so she cowers beneath her mittens and muffler, bombarded by snowballs and heckles, until a rather loud voice cuts through the giggles.
"Oi, that's enough of that!"
Lucy looks up, surprised, to see a ridiculously tall man in equally ridiculous trainers giving her assailants a cursory 'shoo' motion, his expression clearly reading 'If you throw one more snowball, I will drop you in a snowbank.' He's far too scrawny to follow through with it, she's sure, but it's the type of look that sends the other girls scurrying, only nasty looks shot her way the remnants of their previous attack.
When he's sure they're gone, the man makes his way over to her in three even strides, offering a hand as he crouches down. His grin is absolutely ludicrous. "You all right?"
Lucy stares at his hand a moment, then sniffs and nods, struggling to stand up. Clumps of snow fall from her hair and down into her parka, but she only just barely flinches, intent on keeping herself from losing face even more. Her father would be furious if he saw even this. Still, she has to be polite, and he did help her, so she offers him a smile and takes his hand, curtseying once she lets go. "I'm fine, thank you."
The man's smile grows a bit bigger. "Brilliant! Well, I mean, it's not brilliant you got attacked, but it's brilliant you're good. Well, I mean -- well you know." His grin is all but plastered to his face. "So who might you be?"
She keeps smiling, though she wonders just where such a strange fellow has come from. He isn't dressed like a bum, though she doesn't recognise the jacket he's got on, and clothing in general is odd. Maybe he's a model for some new fashion line? "Lucy. I'm Lucy Cole. A pleasure."
For just a brief moment, it looks like his expression wavers. Then he whistles and nods, standing. "Well, Lucy, hope you're okay and all. I've gotta, um--" He looks off to his right and she follows his gaze, tilting her head curiously to see what looks like his twin come jogging toward them, long brown coat waving behind him. He's dressed like an absolute fool in a blue pinstriped suit and trainers. Maybe they're both just daft? Though the man who saved her looks a bit uncomfortable, switching from foot to foot before turning back to her. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so I've gotta go. You can get home fine from here?"
She nods. "I'll be fine," she replies, positively curious about this stranger. "I guess I should thank you, um...?"
He flashes her a grin. "Oh, it's not important," he says, waving a hand. "Bye, Lucy. See you 'round." And he runs off, cutting off the other man and grabbing his arm to turn him around. His twin looks affronted, glancing back toward her, and Lucy gives him a confused look before patting down her clothing and gathering her things.
London really was becoming such an odd place of late. She'd have to keep an eye out for the stranger again, though, if only to thank him properly. Really, not giving your name. What a daft thing to do. Her father would never let her live it down, letting him go without a proper thank you.
Then again, maybe this one time, he doesn't need to know. Turning back briefly to watch the men disappear around a corner, Lucy smiles. No. This would just be her little secret.
Muse: Lucy Saxon
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 771
Prompt picture: This one
Written for handysparehand and so I can use my new icons!