Fic: Musical Freedom
Title: Musical Freedom
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: T
Words: 860
Summary: Six and Peri must escape the 'wookiees'.
Notes: For spydurwebb who requested Six/Peri from my end of semester requests.
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Peri stood near the prison bars while the Doctor paced, one hand in a fist behind his multi-coloured back.
"You know," Peri sighed, motioning to the rather large guard in front of their cell. "We could just ask the giant wookiees what they want with us instead of waiting to be killed."
The giant wookiees she was referring to were the ones that greeted them upon their arrival. The Doctor had thought he was taking Peri to Norvanna IV, home to the finest mangoes in all the galaxy, but well, the Doctor was hardly precise when it came to coordinates and might have punched a six instead of a seven into the TARDIS console.
A fact he was kicking himself for now.
"Or we could just hang ourselves with the obvious," Peri said, grabbing one of the long ropes that streamed from the dark ceiling to the dirt floor. It was definitely odd to have ropes in a prison cell, but no one was really complaining about the absurdity. "Doctor, are you even listening to me?"
"Seven two four five eight and two levers at a thirty-four degree angle. I know that's right, because if I had punched a six or pulled the levers wrong, I would be well, here." He stopped pacing, his eyes scanning the room. "But where exactly is here?"
"And-you just gave me your answer. You're not listening." Peri leaned onto the rope with both hands before stepping back. "And we're doomed."
"Peri, your cynicism is tearing at my dendrites. I'm trying to think for the both of us here." The Doctor tapped his temples as Peri crouched down to the floor. "Obviously, when they want us to know where we are and what they want with us, they'll come for us. If we haven't escaped first."
Against the wall, Peri yawned. It had been over four hours since they had landed, and nearly eighteen since she had woken up from her bed on board the TARDIS. The Doctor looked to the guard, his deep fur patched with several lighter strands of brown as a guerilla belt of bullets lay diagonal across his chest. His eyes squinted as he went through his vast repertoire of every wookiee like species in the universe.
Damn that human George Lucas for thinking up such a crazy term to describe a furry bipedal species and then passing it to the greater parts of human civilization. For the record, there were a hundred and fifty seven such species, not counting the planet they were on or the Traxalli moons on the Outer Rim of the universe, the Traxallians resembling more like ewoks rather than wookiees.
"I really must ingrain better culture references in my companions, or just learn not to use them," the Doctor said under his breath. He knew they were just lucky to have landed on a planet were the species were bipedal, or else, they might have to use the ropes for more strenuous modes of communication and movement.
He wasn't ninety-five anymore. Things tended to hurt after eight hundred years on the prowl of adventure and mayhem in the universe, and it wasn't like he was keeping accurate track of his age. He had other devices for such things.
"Doctor, do you think they know to feed their prisoners?" Peri's head was on top of her knees as she whined, and the Doctor rolled his eyes.
"Here, Peri-" The Doctor reached into his pockets, knowing that there was more there than met the eye. As one hand pushed back some ID badges and grazed an apple, he felt a long narrow piece of plastic. He pulled both the apple and plastic out.
Peri's head lifted as she made grabby hands for the apple. The Doctor tossed it to her. "Bon appetite, mon ami."
As Peri tore at the apple, the Doctor's eyes went back and forth between the recorder and the guard. How long has it been since he played? Surely not since the mushroom head and Jamie. He found his fingers just didn't fit the recorder like they used to, especially in this incarnation.
He would do his best, he thought, lifting the recorder to his mouth and giving a few experimental puffs of air.
"Is now really the best time for that?" Peri wiped the sticky apple juices from her chin, her voice muffling by her chewing. The Doctor began a low melody of sorts before switching to something simple he had learned from a five-year old in 1969.
He then chose his melody carefully, watching the guard's back. At first, there was no change, but then the guard's back slowly began swaying. The Doctor inched closer, playing more intensely as the guard's knees began to buckle. The guard hit the floor several seconds later as the Doctor's recorder faded.
"Venusian lullabies." The Doctor grinned as Peri jumped up and ran to the keys now available through the bars from the fallen guard's side. She quickly unhooked them from his belt and went for the door. The Doctor's grin widened as he twiddled the recorder between his fingers. "Works like a charm everytime."
--
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: T
Words: 860
Summary: Six and Peri must escape the 'wookiees'.
Notes: For spydurwebb who requested Six/Peri from my end of semester requests.
--
Peri stood near the prison bars while the Doctor paced, one hand in a fist behind his multi-coloured back.
"You know," Peri sighed, motioning to the rather large guard in front of their cell. "We could just ask the giant wookiees what they want with us instead of waiting to be killed."
The giant wookiees she was referring to were the ones that greeted them upon their arrival. The Doctor had thought he was taking Peri to Norvanna IV, home to the finest mangoes in all the galaxy, but well, the Doctor was hardly precise when it came to coordinates and might have punched a six instead of a seven into the TARDIS console.
A fact he was kicking himself for now.
"Or we could just hang ourselves with the obvious," Peri said, grabbing one of the long ropes that streamed from the dark ceiling to the dirt floor. It was definitely odd to have ropes in a prison cell, but no one was really complaining about the absurdity. "Doctor, are you even listening to me?"
"Seven two four five eight and two levers at a thirty-four degree angle. I know that's right, because if I had punched a six or pulled the levers wrong, I would be well, here." He stopped pacing, his eyes scanning the room. "But where exactly is here?"
"And-you just gave me your answer. You're not listening." Peri leaned onto the rope with both hands before stepping back. "And we're doomed."
"Peri, your cynicism is tearing at my dendrites. I'm trying to think for the both of us here." The Doctor tapped his temples as Peri crouched down to the floor. "Obviously, when they want us to know where we are and what they want with us, they'll come for us. If we haven't escaped first."
Against the wall, Peri yawned. It had been over four hours since they had landed, and nearly eighteen since she had woken up from her bed on board the TARDIS. The Doctor looked to the guard, his deep fur patched with several lighter strands of brown as a guerilla belt of bullets lay diagonal across his chest. His eyes squinted as he went through his vast repertoire of every wookiee like species in the universe.
Damn that human George Lucas for thinking up such a crazy term to describe a furry bipedal species and then passing it to the greater parts of human civilization. For the record, there were a hundred and fifty seven such species, not counting the planet they were on or the Traxalli moons on the Outer Rim of the universe, the Traxallians resembling more like ewoks rather than wookiees.
"I really must ingrain better culture references in my companions, or just learn not to use them," the Doctor said under his breath. He knew they were just lucky to have landed on a planet were the species were bipedal, or else, they might have to use the ropes for more strenuous modes of communication and movement.
He wasn't ninety-five anymore. Things tended to hurt after eight hundred years on the prowl of adventure and mayhem in the universe, and it wasn't like he was keeping accurate track of his age. He had other devices for such things.
"Doctor, do you think they know to feed their prisoners?" Peri's head was on top of her knees as she whined, and the Doctor rolled his eyes.
"Here, Peri-" The Doctor reached into his pockets, knowing that there was more there than met the eye. As one hand pushed back some ID badges and grazed an apple, he felt a long narrow piece of plastic. He pulled both the apple and plastic out.
Peri's head lifted as she made grabby hands for the apple. The Doctor tossed it to her. "Bon appetite, mon ami."
As Peri tore at the apple, the Doctor's eyes went back and forth between the recorder and the guard. How long has it been since he played? Surely not since the mushroom head and Jamie. He found his fingers just didn't fit the recorder like they used to, especially in this incarnation.
He would do his best, he thought, lifting the recorder to his mouth and giving a few experimental puffs of air.
"Is now really the best time for that?" Peri wiped the sticky apple juices from her chin, her voice muffling by her chewing. The Doctor began a low melody of sorts before switching to something simple he had learned from a five-year old in 1969.
He then chose his melody carefully, watching the guard's back. At first, there was no change, but then the guard's back slowly began swaying. The Doctor inched closer, playing more intensely as the guard's knees began to buckle. The guard hit the floor several seconds later as the Doctor's recorder faded.
"Venusian lullabies." The Doctor grinned as Peri jumped up and ran to the keys now available through the bars from the fallen guard's side. She quickly unhooked them from his belt and went for the door. The Doctor's grin widened as he twiddled the recorder between his fingers. "Works like a charm everytime."
--