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Jun. 5th, 2008 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyoftime She knocks on the TARDIS door.
(It’s not even a proper kiss, not really. It’s a transfer of genetic memory, a thousand kilobits of thought and emotion packed into a single touch of tongue to tongue, realer than life and insubstantial as a ghost.)
She can’t feel her hearts beating.
She can’t see, the world twisted and blurred and bright like a funhouse mirror.
She can’t hear her breath, jagged like razors against her throat, or feel the lock of her own bloodied yellow hair sticking to her cheek.
“Doctor,” he says.
“Master,” she says, slow like molasses, the breath expelled heavy and sweet like the last she’ll ever have.
He crouches on the ground beside her. “We don’t have time.”
“Did you-“ She chokes on her own voice, and with what little strength she feels left in her bones, she coughs out the blood, bitter and salty.
“No. No, this is your own work, my dear Doctor. I’m merely the messenger.”
“What,” she mouths.
He presses his fingers to her temples.
Remember me
“Hello?” she calls, head out the open door.
No one’s there.
Community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse
Prompt: 233 - Surprise! Your mother/a priest/an arch nemesis/the tax man/dinosaurs/your ex/a famous talk show host is at the door -- and at a most inopportune moment! Now what?!
Word Count: 187
Serial: Through a Mirror, Darkly
Author's Note: Um. It's a prologue. Actual story arch to come later. PEE ESS white text.
(It’s not even a proper kiss, not really. It’s a transfer of genetic memory, a thousand kilobits of thought and emotion packed into a single touch of tongue to tongue, realer than life and insubstantial as a ghost.)
Remember me
She can’t feel her hearts beating.
She can’t see, the world twisted and blurred and bright like a funhouse mirror.
She can’t hear her breath, jagged like razors against her throat, or feel the lock of her own bloodied yellow hair sticking to her cheek.
“Doctor,” he says.
“Master,” she says, slow like molasses, the breath expelled heavy and sweet like the last she’ll ever have.
He crouches on the ground beside her. “We don’t have time.”
“Did you-“ She chokes on her own voice, and with what little strength she feels left in her bones, she coughs out the blood, bitter and salty.
“No. No, this is your own work, my dear Doctor. I’m merely the messenger.”
“What,” she mouths.
He presses his fingers to her temples.
“Hello?” she calls, head out the open door.
No one’s there.
Community:
theatrical_musePrompt: 233 - Surprise! Your mother/a priest/an arch nemesis/the tax man/dinosaurs/your ex/a famous talk show host is at the door -- and at a most inopportune moment! Now what?!
Word Count: 187
Serial: Through a Mirror, Darkly
Author's Note: Um. It's a prologue. Actual story arch to come later. PEE ESS white text.
