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Belying the Cadences of Breath, Ten/Rose, G, 737 words
She dreamed of golden light and wolves, and the music of their howling lingered when she woke, somehow comforted without knowing why.
A/N: This is my first time posting to this comm, and I'm really honored to be here! This was written a bit hurriedly between grad school admissions essays, so please forgive any mistakes.
It was that hushed time in the early morning on a rainy day, when it's impossible to differentiate fog from the clouds.
Somewhere along the line, she'd come to love the fog, the vapors and mist and the deep scent of solitude surrounding her as if they understood her loneliness even when she was surrounded by strangers, or those she loved. Because they were many, and they were still here. But he wasn't, and in his place there was only the silence and the shadow of rain.
She came to Scotland more often than she probably should have. The happy memories hurt almost as much as the ones that rendered her speechless with grief and incapacitated her for days. They might have been worse, in the end. But the fog and the green and the vast emptiness was comforting in its familiarity, even without their laughter on the air. Sometimes, if she was still enough, she could almost hear its echo in the breeze.
It was an illusion that helped sustain her, and her weekends in the countryside became her solace until the quiet overwhelmed her and she ached for the sounds of the city again. Then she'd go back, sliding into this new life as if she hadn't been gone, hadn't been lost somewhere in the silence for days on end.
She used to hope. Still did, sometimes, but she'd learned to bury it because she knew without knowing that it would be worse than death to have those hopes dashed. Not that she hadn't been making attempts. She inhaled the fog and felt it settle in her lungs like a burial shroud, lace on living tissue belying the cadences of breath, and knew it would always be this way. Until she found him or died chasing blue on brown across whatever universes might separate them. When she sighed, her breath joined the moisture in the air as if in agreement.
They told her it was impossible, and of course they were right. There was no way they couldn't be. But the fog and the silence told her a different story, and she was far more inclined to listen to that than to reason.
She dreamed of golden light and wolves, and the music of their howling lingered when she woke, somehow comforted without knowing why.
**********
He inhaled the fog and exhaled his heartache into the air, where it hung like the ghost of who he used to be.
He wandered, but it was without the exuberance that had become such a constant in her presence. His hands ached with the inability to hold hers, and he wondered again why he kept coming back to Scotland of all places in the universe. Something drew him, but he had no idea what it could be and didn't much care to figure it out. Whatever it was didn't feel ominous, and he was almost comforted by the strong desire to come stand here, looking through the fog at the landscape and wondering anew at the sense of contentment he felt when moments before there'd been nothing but sorrow.
The silence helped. He wouldn’t have thought it possible since he so missed the patterns of stars in her speech, but it did. It was as if the fog knew he needed a rest almost as much as he needed a way to get back to her.
He bowed his head, shutting his eyes against the memories that were constantly threatening to pull him apart at the seams, and waited. It took a bit longer this time, but as the fog made its way into his pores and the silence softened the edges of his loneliness, he felt the slightest measure of hope. It came unbidden every time he visited this place, and was so brief and certain that at times he knew he was imagining it. Even so, he kept coming back, because it was the only way he could breathe.
Taking one last breath of the fog and the green in the air, he turned back to the TARDIS with heavy hearts made the slightest bit lighter for being here. Just before he shut the door behind him, he heard a wolf howl, so far off into the distance that he barely heard it at all.
He was in the Vortex again before he remembered that there were no wolves in Scotland. The thought made him smile.
She dreamed of golden light and wolves, and the music of their howling lingered when she woke, somehow comforted without knowing why.
A/N: This is my first time posting to this comm, and I'm really honored to be here! This was written a bit hurriedly between grad school admissions essays, so please forgive any mistakes.
It was that hushed time in the early morning on a rainy day, when it's impossible to differentiate fog from the clouds.
Somewhere along the line, she'd come to love the fog, the vapors and mist and the deep scent of solitude surrounding her as if they understood her loneliness even when she was surrounded by strangers, or those she loved. Because they were many, and they were still here. But he wasn't, and in his place there was only the silence and the shadow of rain.
She came to Scotland more often than she probably should have. The happy memories hurt almost as much as the ones that rendered her speechless with grief and incapacitated her for days. They might have been worse, in the end. But the fog and the green and the vast emptiness was comforting in its familiarity, even without their laughter on the air. Sometimes, if she was still enough, she could almost hear its echo in the breeze.
It was an illusion that helped sustain her, and her weekends in the countryside became her solace until the quiet overwhelmed her and she ached for the sounds of the city again. Then she'd go back, sliding into this new life as if she hadn't been gone, hadn't been lost somewhere in the silence for days on end.
She used to hope. Still did, sometimes, but she'd learned to bury it because she knew without knowing that it would be worse than death to have those hopes dashed. Not that she hadn't been making attempts. She inhaled the fog and felt it settle in her lungs like a burial shroud, lace on living tissue belying the cadences of breath, and knew it would always be this way. Until she found him or died chasing blue on brown across whatever universes might separate them. When she sighed, her breath joined the moisture in the air as if in agreement.
They told her it was impossible, and of course they were right. There was no way they couldn't be. But the fog and the silence told her a different story, and she was far more inclined to listen to that than to reason.
She dreamed of golden light and wolves, and the music of their howling lingered when she woke, somehow comforted without knowing why.
**********
He inhaled the fog and exhaled his heartache into the air, where it hung like the ghost of who he used to be.
He wandered, but it was without the exuberance that had become such a constant in her presence. His hands ached with the inability to hold hers, and he wondered again why he kept coming back to Scotland of all places in the universe. Something drew him, but he had no idea what it could be and didn't much care to figure it out. Whatever it was didn't feel ominous, and he was almost comforted by the strong desire to come stand here, looking through the fog at the landscape and wondering anew at the sense of contentment he felt when moments before there'd been nothing but sorrow.
The silence helped. He wouldn’t have thought it possible since he so missed the patterns of stars in her speech, but it did. It was as if the fog knew he needed a rest almost as much as he needed a way to get back to her.
He bowed his head, shutting his eyes against the memories that were constantly threatening to pull him apart at the seams, and waited. It took a bit longer this time, but as the fog made its way into his pores and the silence softened the edges of his loneliness, he felt the slightest measure of hope. It came unbidden every time he visited this place, and was so brief and certain that at times he knew he was imagining it. Even so, he kept coming back, because it was the only way he could breathe.
Taking one last breath of the fog and the green in the air, he turned back to the TARDIS with heavy hearts made the slightest bit lighter for being here. Just before he shut the door behind him, he heard a wolf howl, so far off into the distance that he barely heard it at all.
He was in the Vortex again before he remembered that there were no wolves in Scotland. The thought made him smile.