Fic: carousel
Title: carousel
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Word Count: 679
Characters: Rose/Ten
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: Magic can be found in the least likely places.
A/N: Written for Challenge 59 (Narrative Poetry) at then_theres_us
She gasps when she sees it
a shadowed shape looming out of the darkness.
The puddles on the ground shine in the moonlight
like the metalwork bridles on the old wooden horses,
worn and rusted.
She runs her fingers over the pitted nose of one,
strokes the paint-chipped mane.
He stands with hands in pockets, staring up at the lights,
looking for broken bulbs and finding none.
It's so sad, Doctor, she says,
melancholy and sorrow tainting her words,
her voice.
It's like they're dead.
He smiles and steps up onto the platform,
pulling the sonic screwdriver from his pocket.
He approaches the center column, long fingers scanning the edges,
looking for a way in.
A push of the hand and a door pops open,
mirrored surface catching the light of the full moon and reflecting, refracting,
casting shimmering lights that shine like diamonds.
Not dead, he murmurs, peering at the inner mechanics, looking for the solution.
Just sleeping.
A click of the button and a soft buzz and suddenly
life.
He hears her delighted laughter,
throaty and full, echoing within him and warming him
to his very soul.
The door snicks closed and he wanders around the column,
hands once again in pockets, his stride nonchalant
as if to say, oh, it was nothing,
when really her happiness is everything.
(Everything to whom? the fates ask, ceaselessly weaving their tapestries.
You, the world, the universe, utter existence?
All of the above, is his quiet reply.)
Her smile is bright, the lights a brilliant rainbow on her face,
her hair, her heart.
He thinks she glows,
and is reminded of the wolf,
and thinks she has more power over him now than she did then.
He extends his hand and she takes it,
fingers curling around fingers,
palm pressing to palm
(mouth to mouth
hips to hips
heart to hearts)
and he tugs her to him,
unmoving wooden platform creaking beneath their shoes.
He leans towards her, hand tightening around hers,
and whispers,
are you ready?
lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear.
She nods and he smiles, withdrawing his hand from hers
and walking once more to the control panel.
He calls to her to hold on and peers around the column,
smile widening as she wraps a hand around one of the thin metal poles.
Long fingers pull the lever and the carousel jumps to life,
vaguely discordant music flowing from hidden speakers,
lights flashing,
platform turning slowly.
The horses rise and fall on their posts
and in the blinking lights they could be moving,
powerful legs pumping, hooves pounding.
She's giggling when he returns to her side,
eyes sparkling as she stares up at the lights,
trading her grip on the pole for one on his arm.
He pulls her to him, sliding an arm around her waist,
fingers slipping beneath her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back,
and her breath is warm on his neck as she holds him close.
They dance to the music, swaying and stumbling,
laughing as they spin endlessly around,
the world around them blurring and diffusing
into a swirl of color.
He trips over his own feet and they stumble backward,
the mirrored panels rattling as he pushes her against them.
She giggles, nose crinkling, and he grins,
apologizing softly for his clumsiness.
Her smile is serene as her gaze returns to the lights
and a happy sigh escapes her.
Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?
He stares at her face, getting lost in everything he loves about her,
her dark eyelashes, long and feathery against her skin when she sleeps,
her nose, the gentle curve he likes to trace with his finger,
her lips, soft and pink and warm under his,
and he raises a hand to her cheek, his thumb sweeping over her skin.
No, he answers softly, it isn't.
Her gaze turns to his face, the corners of her mouth rising,
and he touches his lips to her smile, his fingers disappearing into her hair.
You, he whispers.
Always you.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Word Count: 679
Characters: Rose/Ten
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: Magic can be found in the least likely places.
A/N: Written for Challenge 59 (Narrative Poetry) at then_theres_us
She gasps when she sees it
a shadowed shape looming out of the darkness.
The puddles on the ground shine in the moonlight
like the metalwork bridles on the old wooden horses,
worn and rusted.
She runs her fingers over the pitted nose of one,
strokes the paint-chipped mane.
He stands with hands in pockets, staring up at the lights,
looking for broken bulbs and finding none.
It's so sad, Doctor, she says,
melancholy and sorrow tainting her words,
her voice.
It's like they're dead.
He smiles and steps up onto the platform,
pulling the sonic screwdriver from his pocket.
He approaches the center column, long fingers scanning the edges,
looking for a way in.
A push of the hand and a door pops open,
mirrored surface catching the light of the full moon and reflecting, refracting,
casting shimmering lights that shine like diamonds.
Not dead, he murmurs, peering at the inner mechanics, looking for the solution.
Just sleeping.
A click of the button and a soft buzz and suddenly
life.
He hears her delighted laughter,
throaty and full, echoing within him and warming him
to his very soul.
The door snicks closed and he wanders around the column,
hands once again in pockets, his stride nonchalant
as if to say, oh, it was nothing,
when really her happiness is everything.
(Everything to whom? the fates ask, ceaselessly weaving their tapestries.
You, the world, the universe, utter existence?
All of the above, is his quiet reply.)
Her smile is bright, the lights a brilliant rainbow on her face,
her hair, her heart.
He thinks she glows,
and is reminded of the wolf,
and thinks she has more power over him now than she did then.
He extends his hand and she takes it,
fingers curling around fingers,
palm pressing to palm
(mouth to mouth
hips to hips
heart to hearts)
and he tugs her to him,
unmoving wooden platform creaking beneath their shoes.
He leans towards her, hand tightening around hers,
and whispers,
are you ready?
lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear.
She nods and he smiles, withdrawing his hand from hers
and walking once more to the control panel.
He calls to her to hold on and peers around the column,
smile widening as she wraps a hand around one of the thin metal poles.
Long fingers pull the lever and the carousel jumps to life,
vaguely discordant music flowing from hidden speakers,
lights flashing,
platform turning slowly.
The horses rise and fall on their posts
and in the blinking lights they could be moving,
powerful legs pumping, hooves pounding.
She's giggling when he returns to her side,
eyes sparkling as she stares up at the lights,
trading her grip on the pole for one on his arm.
He pulls her to him, sliding an arm around her waist,
fingers slipping beneath her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back,
and her breath is warm on his neck as she holds him close.
They dance to the music, swaying and stumbling,
laughing as they spin endlessly around,
the world around them blurring and diffusing
into a swirl of color.
He trips over his own feet and they stumble backward,
the mirrored panels rattling as he pushes her against them.
She giggles, nose crinkling, and he grins,
apologizing softly for his clumsiness.
Her smile is serene as her gaze returns to the lights
and a happy sigh escapes her.
Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?
He stares at her face, getting lost in everything he loves about her,
her dark eyelashes, long and feathery against her skin when she sleeps,
her nose, the gentle curve he likes to trace with his finger,
her lips, soft and pink and warm under his,
and he raises a hand to her cheek, his thumb sweeping over her skin.
No, he answers softly, it isn't.
Her gaze turns to his face, the corners of her mouth rising,
and he touches his lips to her smile, his fingers disappearing into her hair.
You, he whispers.
Always you.