DramaDramaDuck (RL with the Doctor- Woman Wept- Rescue)
In a side room of an abandoned building on the edge of a city Lucy Saxon didn't know the name of, she hunched further into herself, shivering as she wrapped her ratty cloak tight around her body. It was ragged and dirty, probably one of the nastiest things Lucy had ever worn in her life, but after a day or two on Woman Wept- if that was what this planet was called- she'd realised that she was going to need something to keep her from the cold.
Because it really was fucking cold here.
It didn't help that the bridle she wore made eating an ordeal that took ages to accomplish; the rough metal plate in her mouth made speech impossible- or at least unintelligible- and eating was little better. That was if Lucy even had food to begin with. She'd been wearing earrings and a necklace when Harry kidnapped her, fortunately, so she was able to pawn those after she realised there was no other way she was going to be able to eat, but even so, she was looking unhealthily thin. Of course, she'd always been slim, but now, the cold cut through her flesh in a way she couldn't remember it doing before.
She didn't doubt that was partially the situation she was in, but still, Lucy was strong. She always had been strong in her own way- the predator who waits in the shadows, patient. Less predator now, though. One might have thought, in such a place, that Lucy's sleep would have been haunted by nightmares; not so. Every night, in her sleep, Harry died at her hands. Shot, stabbed, his throat slit, poisoned, drowned; every night a different way. He might regenerate, find himself a new body and a new face, and Lucy would kill that one too. Over and over again until there were no more bodies left. But every morning she awoke to the knowledge that Harry was very much alive somewhere, and that here, where he'd left her, she was utterly powerless.
She felt like a leper. A freak in a mask, huddled away at the edges of the city.
It was only recently, after the money she'd got from pawning her jewellery ran out, that she'd ventured further in. It took three days without food before her pride broke sufficiently for her to start begging in the streets. As it turned out, she wasn't particularly good at begging. She was glad of it, though; it was in the city that she'd managed to find a man who'd allowed her into his shop for a moment, just to get out of the stinging hail, and he who'd had a connection to what little this world had in the way of an internet. It had been enough, though.
And now? Now she was waiting. Waiting for the Doctor, of all people, to come and rescue her. Part of her hated herself for it, and him- just the way he had forgiven Harry, he would forgive her, self righteous prick- but the main part was too grateful to object. Lucy half-wondered, as she sat, what she would do when he arrived, if he arrived. How to be grateful to a man one had watched tortured, and delighted in it. How to be grateful to a man she'd despised.
That was the thing, though- she was. She just wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it.
Because it really was fucking cold here.
It didn't help that the bridle she wore made eating an ordeal that took ages to accomplish; the rough metal plate in her mouth made speech impossible- or at least unintelligible- and eating was little better. That was if Lucy even had food to begin with. She'd been wearing earrings and a necklace when Harry kidnapped her, fortunately, so she was able to pawn those after she realised there was no other way she was going to be able to eat, but even so, she was looking unhealthily thin. Of course, she'd always been slim, but now, the cold cut through her flesh in a way she couldn't remember it doing before.
She didn't doubt that was partially the situation she was in, but still, Lucy was strong. She always had been strong in her own way- the predator who waits in the shadows, patient. Less predator now, though. One might have thought, in such a place, that Lucy's sleep would have been haunted by nightmares; not so. Every night, in her sleep, Harry died at her hands. Shot, stabbed, his throat slit, poisoned, drowned; every night a different way. He might regenerate, find himself a new body and a new face, and Lucy would kill that one too. Over and over again until there were no more bodies left. But every morning she awoke to the knowledge that Harry was very much alive somewhere, and that here, where he'd left her, she was utterly powerless.
She felt like a leper. A freak in a mask, huddled away at the edges of the city.
It was only recently, after the money she'd got from pawning her jewellery ran out, that she'd ventured further in. It took three days without food before her pride broke sufficiently for her to start begging in the streets. As it turned out, she wasn't particularly good at begging. She was glad of it, though; it was in the city that she'd managed to find a man who'd allowed her into his shop for a moment, just to get out of the stinging hail, and he who'd had a connection to what little this world had in the way of an internet. It had been enough, though.
And now? Now she was waiting. Waiting for the Doctor, of all people, to come and rescue her. Part of her hated herself for it, and him- just the way he had forgiven Harry, he would forgive her, self righteous prick- but the main part was too grateful to object. Lucy half-wondered, as she sat, what she would do when he arrived, if he arrived. How to be grateful to a man one had watched tortured, and delighted in it. How to be grateful to a man she'd despised.
That was the thing, though- she was. She just wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it.