It’s that time of night when there’s a lull in the world, when the lights are dazzling like tiny fireflies dancing their own waltz through the skies and the people are smuggled away from the silent, magic of the world. It almost looks like artificial daytime, in a world where there is only air and dust and the reverent beauty of things left behind. She can’t keep her eyes glued on one spot, they dip and they turn and they spin like she’s seeing all the wonders of the entire universe in this one tiny place.
She vaguely remembers him ping-ponging words and people and places at her when their destination was decided. Homer (NOT Simpson!), Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato and not forgetting Aristotle. But right now, in this very sliver of time, all she can see is that bare, boneless tree standing in the distance. Almost achingly lonely, bent with the weight of time on its back, with its wooden arms reaching out to touch something living. In her mind she can see it flourishing with the breath of youth and spring, the branches bent not with time but with the satiated feeling of the leaves languishing upon them.
She whips round to face the Doctor so quickly that she almost pirouettes. “Can’t...can’t you do somethin’, Doctor?”
And that’s all he needs.
It’s a tree, he thinks. Of all the things in the world that Rose Tyler wanted to save, it would be a tree. In Greece. And for that very reason, he walks over to her standing on the worn down cobblestones, bathed in the same, shimmering firefly light. He takes her hand and presses it to the sonic screwdriver.
“You don’t need me, Rose.”
“Hey. I’ll always need you.”
-+++-
They spend the rest of their stay sheltered under those very same wooden arms listening to a musician playing the bouzouki, with the Doctor pausing every few seconds and removing the emerald, vigorous leaves dancing in her hair.
Re: wooden arms, g.mylittlepwnyApril 24 2009, 03:55:10 UTC
WE ARE LIKE THE AVENGERS OR SOMETHING, JAI.
YOU FOR THIS AND KAT FOR POSTING THE FICATHON IN THE FIRST PLACE AND ME FOR THE PROMPT AND I AM JUST SAYING, WE MAKE A SMASHING TEAM.
Because this! Oh this. It's perfect, absolutely positively, and how much do I love that you've focused on that bare tree in the corner there? VERY MUCH. Because it's exactly what Rose would see, in all that beauty, the one thing that looked like it needed some help, and he takes her hand and presses it to the sonic screwdriver is somehow the most sensual thing in the world and it really does look like some kind of false daylight on this street, it's what made me love the picture so much, and I don't even know what a bouzouki is but I bet it's GLORIOUS and the Doctor knows tons about it and whispers it all to her while picking THE DANCING LEAVES FROM HER HAIR OMG NINE PLEASE STOP IT YOU ARE KILLING ME.
Re: wooden arms, g.jai_23April 25 2009, 12:32:55 UTC
WE'RE ALL RIDING ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH, I THINK. ;) WE COULD TOTALLY BE THE NEXT GENERATION OF MUSKETEERS, I THINK DUMAS WOULD BE PROUD LOL.
Oh and pass on my most humble thanks to your prompt for treating me right in the morning. It even made me tea and the whole shebang, y'know breakfast in bed. It didn't pull on its pants and leave through my front door like the Tasmanian devil or something.
That picture was GLORIOUS, Mel. Doctor knows tons about it and whispers it all to her while picking THE DANCING LEAVES FROM HER HAIR HOW DID I NOT HAVE WHISPERING IN EARS IN MY FIC? I AM A TWAT AND A TWIT. AND YOU HAVE MADE THIS THING SO MUCH BETTER, ILU.
She vaguely remembers him ping-ponging words and people and places at her when their destination was decided. Homer (NOT Simpson!), Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato and not forgetting Aristotle. But right now, in this very sliver of time, all she can see is that bare, boneless tree standing in the distance. Almost achingly lonely, bent with the weight of time on its back, with its wooden arms reaching out to touch something living. In her mind she can see it flourishing with the breath of youth and spring, the branches bent not with time but with the satiated feeling of the leaves languishing upon them.
She whips round to face the Doctor so quickly that she almost pirouettes. “Can’t...can’t you do somethin’, Doctor?”
And that’s all he needs.
It’s a tree, he thinks. Of all the things in the world that Rose Tyler wanted to save, it would be a tree. In Greece. And for that very reason, he walks over to her standing on the worn down cobblestones, bathed in the same, shimmering firefly light. He takes her hand and presses it to the sonic screwdriver.
“You don’t need me, Rose.”
“Hey. I’ll always need you.”
-+++-
They spend the rest of their stay sheltered under those very same wooden arms listening to a musician playing the bouzouki, with the Doctor pausing every few seconds and removing the emerald, vigorous leaves dancing in her hair.
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UM. Yeah.
No words.
YOU WRITING NINE/ROSE FIC. USING PATRICK WATSON SONGS AS INSPIRATION.
And Mel's glorious prompt.
This is totally a success, now. ;)
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I KNOW! I WROTE NINE/ROSE! :O
Oh whatever, you don't need me to make anything you do a success okay. ♥ ♥
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YOU FOR THIS AND KAT FOR POSTING THE FICATHON IN THE FIRST PLACE AND ME FOR THE PROMPT AND I AM JUST SAYING, WE MAKE A SMASHING TEAM.
Because this!
Oh this.
It's perfect, absolutely positively, and how much do I love that you've focused on that bare tree in the corner there?
VERY MUCH.
Because it's exactly what Rose would see, in all that beauty, the one thing that looked like it needed some help, and he takes her hand and presses it to the sonic screwdriver is somehow the most sensual thing in the world and it really does look like some kind of false daylight on this street, it's what made me love the picture so much, and I don't even know what a bouzouki is but I bet it's GLORIOUS and the Doctor knows tons about it and whispers it all to her while picking THE DANCING LEAVES FROM HER HAIR OMG NINE PLEASE STOP IT YOU ARE KILLING ME.
only don't you dare.
A++++++
Reply
Oh and pass on my most humble thanks to your prompt for treating me right in the morning. It even made me tea and the whole shebang, y'know breakfast in bed. It didn't pull on its pants and leave through my front door like the Tasmanian devil or something.
That picture was GLORIOUS, Mel. Doctor knows tons about it and whispers it all to her while picking THE DANCING LEAVES FROM HER HAIR HOW DID I NOT HAVE WHISPERING IN EARS IN MY FIC? I AM A TWAT AND A TWIT. AND YOU HAVE MADE THIS THING SO MUCH BETTER, ILU.
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