![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Title: Eclipse
Rating: R
Pairing: Ten/Donna (Friendship, UST)
Word Count: 2,344
Summary: The Doctor takes Donna to the end of the universe. Sort of. Spoilers for Doctor Who 4.13 - Journey’s End.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by The Frames.
Author’s Notes: Apologies for the wait - it’s been a very busy week; I’ve been concert-hopping and trying to get my schedule in place for the coming semester in terms of work and such. All that aside, I did want to post this next bit before classes resume (which occurs tomorrow) - just in case I get bogged down by coursework. Hopefully, that won’t be the case.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit; it mostly centers on a deepening of the Doctor’s attachment to Donna, which is leading somewhere, I swear it! Comments are love, as always.
Part One: Eulalie
Part Two: Desperate Moments In Linear Time
Part Three: Ontological Subjectivity
Part Four: Better Than One
Part Five: Ātman
Part Six: Only
Part Seven: Two To Tango
Part Eight: Sonnets To A Dark Lady
Part Nine: The Forgotten Tide
Part Ten: Fifth Symphony in Ood Minor
Part Eleven: Ragnarök
The Doctor hadn’t looked quite so excited since he’d taken her to Ancient Rome, and that was ages ago; so Donna was rather looking forward to whatever was lying beyond the TARDIS doors when they landed.
“Right then,” he announced as they stepped onto the alien soil, which looked strangely like Earth dirt, except that it glittered like diamonds. “Malcassairo.”
Donna squinted off down the narrow street they’d landed at the end of, staring up at the intricately balanced high-rise dwellings, all hanging off cliffs like pueblo houses. “Malcassair-who?”
“Home of the Malmooth,” the Doctor added with a grin, turning towards her and gesturing grandly towards the quiet city that sprawled out before them, stretched out towards the horizon. “Welcome to the end of the universe.”
Donna gazed skeptically at the slowly-waking town, seeing colorful, upright beings slowly making their way around and down winding road systems that gradually led to the ground level. “What?”
The Doctor simply stared at her, the enthusiasm in his eyes still unquenched as he intoned sarcastically, his lips smacking with the exaggerated pronunciation as he looked down his nose at her; “This is where the world ends.”
“Not with a bang, but a whimper?” Donna shot back with a roll of her eyes.
“Eliot!” he exclaimed, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as a smile broke across his features and overtook his face. “Classic.”
Donna couldn’t help but smile back him, just a little amused, his shining smile warming her to the very core. “Hate to break it to you, Time Boy,” she sighed dramatically, pointing out toward what she assumed was a native, something between a human and a bug, she’d guess, walking with a baby slung carefully in a knapsack on its back, calm as could be. “But this doesn’t look like the apocalypse just yet.”
“Well, no,” the Doctor said, his lips evening out as a bit of the smile faded from his eyes. “No, not quite.” He seemed to become lost for a moment, somewhere deep in his memories; things Donna now had only echoes of, little bits and pieces about the Master and Utopia that the Doctor had told her, and some he’d merely let her keep. “Mind you,” he suddenly interjected again, his tone bordering on pedantic. “The real end of the universe doesn’t look much like the films, either.”
“But this is it,” he nodded down the walkway to the growing number of aliens meandering towards the center of their unique metropolis, hands in his pockets as he made to follow them. “This is where it happens…” he trailed, glancing up as they passed a strangely out of place tower of rainbow-shaded dwellings amongst neutral browns and tans. “Where it all comes down to in the end.”
Donna shot him an disbelieving look as they milled about and wove in between what had to be the morning commute on Malcassairo, dodging the less colorful and more wrinkled citizens while trying not to trip over the shining and fluorescent youth who were dancing around somewhere near the height of Donna’s knees. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor conceded the point as Donna’s eyebrows furrowed just a tinge more severely. “In about a millennium or so.”
Donna’s jaw dropped as she gaped at the Doctor, almost running in to the back of a particularly muscular-looking Malmooth the shade of a fine Merlot. “A millennium?”
The Doctor shrugged casually, biting his lip in thought. “Give or take.”
“A millennium?”
The Doctor huffed impatiently, glancing critically in Donna direction as they were separated for a moment by a small herd of children in every shade of violet imaginable running between them. “This is the height of the Malmooth race!” he exclaimed passionately. “Their golden age! You cannot tell me that this,” he gestured to the blanket of bobbing heads walking around them, every color of the spectrum, with an air of high grandeur, “isn’t brilliant!”
Donna slowed, rolling her eyes and then fixing them on a sign above their heads. “Brilliant or not,” she said with a sly grin, cocking a shoulder in the direction of the small establishment that appeared to be a cross between a café and a pub, “drinks are on you.”
She was already through the door before the Doctor could protest.
----------------------------------------
“Fee – would you like some milk, miss? – tar.”
Donna had looked rather puzzled when their waiter - a tall, slender-looking Malmooth male with an ochre complexion - spoke to to them at first, and understandably so; but had appeared to catch on to the pattern by the time it came to order.
“Don – Yes, please – na.”
“No, no,” the Doctor chided Donna lightly with a touch to her arm. “Don’t do that.” He shook his head, something about internal milk coming to mind as he added; “And no, she’s lactose intolerant, actually. No milk for her.”
“Fee – some avwoidan juice, then? – tar,” the server asked helpfully with a grin, and the Doctor glanced in consideration over at Donna, completely ignoring her consternation at being overruled with her order.
“Hmm… how do you feel about guavas, Donna?” he looked her over briefly, sensing no real aversion more from her presence in his mind than from studying her expression. Satisfied, he smiled up at the waiter and nodded firmly. “That’s great, we’ll have two, please.”
“Fee – excellent, sir – tar.” With an exaggerated nod of the head and a tiny bow from the middle of his spine, the server disappeared from sight.
They were barely on to deactivating the holo-card menus when their items were brought to the table, barely seconds after asking for them.
“Chan – here is your order – tho.”
A different server - female, this time, and of a much slighter build, with aquamarine flesh and bright eyes - delivered their drinks, housed in large, shimmering gourd-like husks.
“Thank you,” Donna smiled gratefully as her beverage was placed before her, and the young waitress smiled demurely, nodding in reply. She placed the hollowed out shells before each of them, and with a bow of her head much like the one of her male counterpart, she turned to go.
“Yes…” the Doctor echoed belatedly, lost in thought for a moment before reaching out to halt the young Malmooth in her tracks. “Hold on,” he asked, his tone on the brink of discovery. “Your name is Chantho?”
The female looked curious, almost confused, but nodded politely. “Chan – yes – tho.”
The Doctor, on the other hand, looked utterly incredulous as he flailed his arms a bit in emphasis, asking loudly; “What are you doing here?”
Chantho eyed him strangely, her head tipped to the side and her eyes wide as if questioning his sanity - Donna fought the urge to laugh at this turn of events; she often found herself wondering the same exact thing. “Chan – I have lived here my entire life – tho,” the young woman replied, averting her eyes to the ground in something like reverence, glancing up only at well-timed intervals.
“No, no,” the Doctor shook his head in agitation. “I mean, working here. A waitress.”
Chantho blinked dumbly, seeming taken aback by the question. “Chan – it is an honorable position for someone of my age – tho,” she defended with enthusiasm, her eyes focused more on the Doctor as she spoke, but avoiding him entirely as her words faded to silence.
The Doctor grinned at her indulgently. “Would it be rude to ask what that age might be?”
Chantho smiled a toothy grin, ducking her head as she shook it. “Chan – not at all – tho.”
“What might it be?” the Doctor asked when she wasn’t forthcoming on her own, nodding encouragingly.
“Chan – I am one-hundred and fifty two, but most do not find work until they are at least two-hundred – tho.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, seemingly impressed. “Really? You’re long-lived, then, your species?”
“Chan – quite – tho,” Chantho affirmed with a nod. She paused before adding, almost hesitantly, as if she felt she should say no more but could barely contain herself. “Chan – I am only working now to afford the Academy. I would like to study the sciences – tho.”
A shadow passed over the Doctor’s features for the barest of instants before he smiled wide at her, his voice exuberant, “Well, I think you’d be a lovely scientist. Good luck with that.”
Chantho bowed her head, her cheeks flushing in an odd lavender shade as she folded her hands and smiled. “Chan – thank you very much – tho.”
She giggled, moving to return to the kitchens, Donna assumed, leaving them with a “Chan – enjoy your drinks – tho,” before disappearing.
Donna tentatively raised the lip of the dried and hollowed-out gourd to her lips, admiring the intricate craftsmanship of the carvings on the sides before she took a mouthful of the glowing fuchsia liquid swirling within. “Oh, that’s got a bit of a buzz to it,” she exclaimed in surprise, swallowing the burn of the juice.
“Better than the milk,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow at her as he sipped at his own portion. “That’s Malmoothian milk, mind you.”
Dona’s eyes widened as the connotations sunk in. “You mean…”
The Doctor nodded smugly. “Mmmhmm.”
“That’s disgusting,” Donna whispered, scandalized, and she stared wide-eyed around at the growing population of native beings populating the pub.
“Well,” the Doctor replied with a vaguely arrogant shrug as he rested his chin on his palm. “Not if you’re a Malmooth.”
Donna rolled her eyes and reached across the table to bat playfully at his elbow where it rested next to his drink. “How people put up with that cheek from you is beyond me,” she groused exasperatedly, only serving to widen his grin as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“You love it, though,” he shot back warmly, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he leaned back in his seat and stretched, sighing deeply; he therefore missed it when Donna blushed deeply and hid her face as inconspicuously as she could.
“So,” Donna managed after a moment, her voice strained as the Doctor cracked an eye open whilst he listened. “End of the bloody universe, and we’re knocking back…” she shook what was left in her gourd as an example, “whatever smoothie thing this is?”
“Avwoidan juice,” the Doctor identified, pointing towards it in example. “It’s actually a rarity in at least nine systems.”
Donna shook her head, uninterested. “Whatever. I still hold that this doesn’t really count as a trip to end of the world.”
The Doctor’s expression darkened just a tad, his arms sliding to his sides as he pinned her down with a black stare, his voice cold as he ground out; “Well, it’s as close as you’re going to get.”
Donna was a bit bothered by his sudden change of tone, but more so that he was dictating to her, setting boundaries for her - like she was a child. “I seem to recall a certain pivotal encounter with some Daleks and some stolen planets…” she led indignantly, letting the end fall unfinished; it only served to cause his features to darken further, leaden with an intensity that she’d only seen when he was absolutely furious, or about to lose everything.
“That wasn’t the end of the universe, was it?” she carried on, trying to get him to respond. “Here we are still,” she gestured to them both in turn, “safe and sound.”
He glanced up at her through haunted eyes, the lines of his face suddenly more gaunt, more strained as he forced past his lips; “But it was too close.”
Donna leaned in, not understanding. “Too close?”
“Yes, too close,” the Doctor snarled suddenly, his eyes fiery and almost too bright. “I watched Davros shock you half to hell, and that was too damn close!” His hand fell hard upon the table with a violent slap, his breathing heavy and erratic as Donna flinched at the current of sheer emotion that passed through her consciousness as her connection to his mind flared.
“Doctor?”
“I almost lost you, Donna,” he breathed, his words almost inaudible - uneven and trembling on his vocal chords. “I won’t put you in harms way like that again,” he vowed solemnly, still shaking. “Not if I can help it.”
“Doctor, I-”
“I know that the life I lead doesn’t exactly account in advance for all the times I put you in harm’s way,” he shook his head regretfully, barely looking at her. “But I refuse to knowingly put you at risk.”
Donna swallowed hard, daring to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for some time now. “But…” she faltered when his eyes pierced her with a pain that split her chest in two, and she could only pick up again when his gaze left her own. “I’m like you, aren’t I?” she asked slowly, tentatively - almost scared. “Can’t I just, regenerate?”
The Doctor stared at her silently, watching her as every possible emotion flooded him, flooded her mind in turn - pride, anger, hate, fear, joy, hope, love, guilt. “I don’t know that,” he finally exhaled, sounding tired - so very tired. “I can’t know that if you come to some drastic harm, that it will work.” His eyes flickered to her, engulfed in mahogany flames that licked out and burned her, consumed her for the briefest of seconds as he rasped against the inferno, “And I will not tempt fate by trying it, only to find out you can’t when it’s too late.” His neck slackened and his head fell forward just a bit, his hair framing his face as he stared down wordlessly into his drink.
“Right,” she muttered into her gourd of juice, and said nothing more on the matter.
Part Twelve: Fancy Feet
Rating: R
Pairing: Ten/Donna (Friendship, UST)
Word Count: 2,344
Summary: The Doctor takes Donna to the end of the universe. Sort of. Spoilers for Doctor Who 4.13 - Journey’s End.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by The Frames.
Author’s Notes: Apologies for the wait - it’s been a very busy week; I’ve been concert-hopping and trying to get my schedule in place for the coming semester in terms of work and such. All that aside, I did want to post this next bit before classes resume (which occurs tomorrow) - just in case I get bogged down by coursework. Hopefully, that won’t be the case.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit; it mostly centers on a deepening of the Doctor’s attachment to Donna, which is leading somewhere, I swear it! Comments are love, as always.
Part One: Eulalie
Part Two: Desperate Moments In Linear Time
Part Three: Ontological Subjectivity
Part Four: Better Than One
Part Five: Ātman
Part Six: Only
Part Seven: Two To Tango
Part Eight: Sonnets To A Dark Lady
Part Nine: The Forgotten Tide
Part Ten: Fifth Symphony in Ood Minor
Part Eleven: Ragnarök
The Doctor hadn’t looked quite so excited since he’d taken her to Ancient Rome, and that was ages ago; so Donna was rather looking forward to whatever was lying beyond the TARDIS doors when they landed.
“Right then,” he announced as they stepped onto the alien soil, which looked strangely like Earth dirt, except that it glittered like diamonds. “Malcassairo.”
Donna squinted off down the narrow street they’d landed at the end of, staring up at the intricately balanced high-rise dwellings, all hanging off cliffs like pueblo houses. “Malcassair-who?”
“Home of the Malmooth,” the Doctor added with a grin, turning towards her and gesturing grandly towards the quiet city that sprawled out before them, stretched out towards the horizon. “Welcome to the end of the universe.”
Donna gazed skeptically at the slowly-waking town, seeing colorful, upright beings slowly making their way around and down winding road systems that gradually led to the ground level. “What?”
The Doctor simply stared at her, the enthusiasm in his eyes still unquenched as he intoned sarcastically, his lips smacking with the exaggerated pronunciation as he looked down his nose at her; “This is where the world ends.”
“Not with a bang, but a whimper?” Donna shot back with a roll of her eyes.
“Eliot!” he exclaimed, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as a smile broke across his features and overtook his face. “Classic.”
Donna couldn’t help but smile back him, just a little amused, his shining smile warming her to the very core. “Hate to break it to you, Time Boy,” she sighed dramatically, pointing out toward what she assumed was a native, something between a human and a bug, she’d guess, walking with a baby slung carefully in a knapsack on its back, calm as could be. “But this doesn’t look like the apocalypse just yet.”
“Well, no,” the Doctor said, his lips evening out as a bit of the smile faded from his eyes. “No, not quite.” He seemed to become lost for a moment, somewhere deep in his memories; things Donna now had only echoes of, little bits and pieces about the Master and Utopia that the Doctor had told her, and some he’d merely let her keep. “Mind you,” he suddenly interjected again, his tone bordering on pedantic. “The real end of the universe doesn’t look much like the films, either.”
“But this is it,” he nodded down the walkway to the growing number of aliens meandering towards the center of their unique metropolis, hands in his pockets as he made to follow them. “This is where it happens…” he trailed, glancing up as they passed a strangely out of place tower of rainbow-shaded dwellings amongst neutral browns and tans. “Where it all comes down to in the end.”
Donna shot him an disbelieving look as they milled about and wove in between what had to be the morning commute on Malcassairo, dodging the less colorful and more wrinkled citizens while trying not to trip over the shining and fluorescent youth who were dancing around somewhere near the height of Donna’s knees. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor conceded the point as Donna’s eyebrows furrowed just a tinge more severely. “In about a millennium or so.”
Donna’s jaw dropped as she gaped at the Doctor, almost running in to the back of a particularly muscular-looking Malmooth the shade of a fine Merlot. “A millennium?”
The Doctor shrugged casually, biting his lip in thought. “Give or take.”
“A millennium?”
The Doctor huffed impatiently, glancing critically in Donna direction as they were separated for a moment by a small herd of children in every shade of violet imaginable running between them. “This is the height of the Malmooth race!” he exclaimed passionately. “Their golden age! You cannot tell me that this,” he gestured to the blanket of bobbing heads walking around them, every color of the spectrum, with an air of high grandeur, “isn’t brilliant!”
Donna slowed, rolling her eyes and then fixing them on a sign above their heads. “Brilliant or not,” she said with a sly grin, cocking a shoulder in the direction of the small establishment that appeared to be a cross between a café and a pub, “drinks are on you.”
She was already through the door before the Doctor could protest.
----------------------------------------
“Fee – would you like some milk, miss? – tar.”
Donna had looked rather puzzled when their waiter - a tall, slender-looking Malmooth male with an ochre complexion - spoke to to them at first, and understandably so; but had appeared to catch on to the pattern by the time it came to order.
“Don – Yes, please – na.”
“No, no,” the Doctor chided Donna lightly with a touch to her arm. “Don’t do that.” He shook his head, something about internal milk coming to mind as he added; “And no, she’s lactose intolerant, actually. No milk for her.”
“Fee – some avwoidan juice, then? – tar,” the server asked helpfully with a grin, and the Doctor glanced in consideration over at Donna, completely ignoring her consternation at being overruled with her order.
“Hmm… how do you feel about guavas, Donna?” he looked her over briefly, sensing no real aversion more from her presence in his mind than from studying her expression. Satisfied, he smiled up at the waiter and nodded firmly. “That’s great, we’ll have two, please.”
“Fee – excellent, sir – tar.” With an exaggerated nod of the head and a tiny bow from the middle of his spine, the server disappeared from sight.
They were barely on to deactivating the holo-card menus when their items were brought to the table, barely seconds after asking for them.
“Chan – here is your order – tho.”
A different server - female, this time, and of a much slighter build, with aquamarine flesh and bright eyes - delivered their drinks, housed in large, shimmering gourd-like husks.
“Thank you,” Donna smiled gratefully as her beverage was placed before her, and the young waitress smiled demurely, nodding in reply. She placed the hollowed out shells before each of them, and with a bow of her head much like the one of her male counterpart, she turned to go.
“Yes…” the Doctor echoed belatedly, lost in thought for a moment before reaching out to halt the young Malmooth in her tracks. “Hold on,” he asked, his tone on the brink of discovery. “Your name is Chantho?”
The female looked curious, almost confused, but nodded politely. “Chan – yes – tho.”
The Doctor, on the other hand, looked utterly incredulous as he flailed his arms a bit in emphasis, asking loudly; “What are you doing here?”
Chantho eyed him strangely, her head tipped to the side and her eyes wide as if questioning his sanity - Donna fought the urge to laugh at this turn of events; she often found herself wondering the same exact thing. “Chan – I have lived here my entire life – tho,” the young woman replied, averting her eyes to the ground in something like reverence, glancing up only at well-timed intervals.
“No, no,” the Doctor shook his head in agitation. “I mean, working here. A waitress.”
Chantho blinked dumbly, seeming taken aback by the question. “Chan – it is an honorable position for someone of my age – tho,” she defended with enthusiasm, her eyes focused more on the Doctor as she spoke, but avoiding him entirely as her words faded to silence.
The Doctor grinned at her indulgently. “Would it be rude to ask what that age might be?”
Chantho smiled a toothy grin, ducking her head as she shook it. “Chan – not at all – tho.”
“What might it be?” the Doctor asked when she wasn’t forthcoming on her own, nodding encouragingly.
“Chan – I am one-hundred and fifty two, but most do not find work until they are at least two-hundred – tho.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, seemingly impressed. “Really? You’re long-lived, then, your species?”
“Chan – quite – tho,” Chantho affirmed with a nod. She paused before adding, almost hesitantly, as if she felt she should say no more but could barely contain herself. “Chan – I am only working now to afford the Academy. I would like to study the sciences – tho.”
A shadow passed over the Doctor’s features for the barest of instants before he smiled wide at her, his voice exuberant, “Well, I think you’d be a lovely scientist. Good luck with that.”
Chantho bowed her head, her cheeks flushing in an odd lavender shade as she folded her hands and smiled. “Chan – thank you very much – tho.”
She giggled, moving to return to the kitchens, Donna assumed, leaving them with a “Chan – enjoy your drinks – tho,” before disappearing.
Donna tentatively raised the lip of the dried and hollowed-out gourd to her lips, admiring the intricate craftsmanship of the carvings on the sides before she took a mouthful of the glowing fuchsia liquid swirling within. “Oh, that’s got a bit of a buzz to it,” she exclaimed in surprise, swallowing the burn of the juice.
“Better than the milk,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow at her as he sipped at his own portion. “That’s Malmoothian milk, mind you.”
Dona’s eyes widened as the connotations sunk in. “You mean…”
The Doctor nodded smugly. “Mmmhmm.”
“That’s disgusting,” Donna whispered, scandalized, and she stared wide-eyed around at the growing population of native beings populating the pub.
“Well,” the Doctor replied with a vaguely arrogant shrug as he rested his chin on his palm. “Not if you’re a Malmooth.”
Donna rolled her eyes and reached across the table to bat playfully at his elbow where it rested next to his drink. “How people put up with that cheek from you is beyond me,” she groused exasperatedly, only serving to widen his grin as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“You love it, though,” he shot back warmly, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he leaned back in his seat and stretched, sighing deeply; he therefore missed it when Donna blushed deeply and hid her face as inconspicuously as she could.
“So,” Donna managed after a moment, her voice strained as the Doctor cracked an eye open whilst he listened. “End of the bloody universe, and we’re knocking back…” she shook what was left in her gourd as an example, “whatever smoothie thing this is?”
“Avwoidan juice,” the Doctor identified, pointing towards it in example. “It’s actually a rarity in at least nine systems.”
Donna shook her head, uninterested. “Whatever. I still hold that this doesn’t really count as a trip to end of the world.”
The Doctor’s expression darkened just a tad, his arms sliding to his sides as he pinned her down with a black stare, his voice cold as he ground out; “Well, it’s as close as you’re going to get.”
Donna was a bit bothered by his sudden change of tone, but more so that he was dictating to her, setting boundaries for her - like she was a child. “I seem to recall a certain pivotal encounter with some Daleks and some stolen planets…” she led indignantly, letting the end fall unfinished; it only served to cause his features to darken further, leaden with an intensity that she’d only seen when he was absolutely furious, or about to lose everything.
“That wasn’t the end of the universe, was it?” she carried on, trying to get him to respond. “Here we are still,” she gestured to them both in turn, “safe and sound.”
He glanced up at her through haunted eyes, the lines of his face suddenly more gaunt, more strained as he forced past his lips; “But it was too close.”
Donna leaned in, not understanding. “Too close?”
“Yes, too close,” the Doctor snarled suddenly, his eyes fiery and almost too bright. “I watched Davros shock you half to hell, and that was too damn close!” His hand fell hard upon the table with a violent slap, his breathing heavy and erratic as Donna flinched at the current of sheer emotion that passed through her consciousness as her connection to his mind flared.
“Doctor?”
“I almost lost you, Donna,” he breathed, his words almost inaudible - uneven and trembling on his vocal chords. “I won’t put you in harms way like that again,” he vowed solemnly, still shaking. “Not if I can help it.”
“Doctor, I-”
“I know that the life I lead doesn’t exactly account in advance for all the times I put you in harm’s way,” he shook his head regretfully, barely looking at her. “But I refuse to knowingly put you at risk.”
Donna swallowed hard, daring to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for some time now. “But…” she faltered when his eyes pierced her with a pain that split her chest in two, and she could only pick up again when his gaze left her own. “I’m like you, aren’t I?” she asked slowly, tentatively - almost scared. “Can’t I just, regenerate?”
The Doctor stared at her silently, watching her as every possible emotion flooded him, flooded her mind in turn - pride, anger, hate, fear, joy, hope, love, guilt. “I don’t know that,” he finally exhaled, sounding tired - so very tired. “I can’t know that if you come to some drastic harm, that it will work.” His eyes flickered to her, engulfed in mahogany flames that licked out and burned her, consumed her for the briefest of seconds as he rasped against the inferno, “And I will not tempt fate by trying it, only to find out you can’t when it’s too late.” His neck slackened and his head fell forward just a bit, his hair framing his face as he stared down wordlessly into his drink.
“Right,” she muttered into her gourd of juice, and said nothing more on the matter.
Part Twelve: Fancy Feet
Current Music: I Want Love by Elton John
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