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misaffectionAs requested, I'm posting this here from now on in and linked from T&C.
The previous posts are here: ( Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three )
Earth date: 7th November 2001. Gallifrey.
The graduation of the Time Lords was an ancient ritual, full of deep meaning and reverence. Lyselle was bored witless. The only reason she was here in the first place was so she could get her hands on the cream-coloured scroll and then wave it under the noses of those tutors who'd said she fail. She twisted in her seat again, scanning the throng. Where was he? She slumped in her seat; it wasn't fair. If he didn't turn up soon he'd miss her finest hour.
The faculty head was still droning on when Lyselle felt the familiar prickling sensation on her scalp. She grinned to herself, but managed to force herself not to look. To those who were wary of her, the ability to sense the Doctor's presence over that of other Gallifreyans was just another thing they didn't understand, another indication she was different. Another reason to be wary.
Her name was called and she walked to the stage, a faint smile on her face. She did her best to look surprised and humble and ignored the fact the applause began as a smattering. She looked out at the sea of faces; they seemed blank to her, unimportant. Her eyes locked with a set that was unknown yet familiar. She grinned despite her best efforts to remain calm.
Descending the steps, she smiled pleasantly at the few who wished her well and sauntered to the back.
“I feel the need to celebrate,” she told the Doctor. She giggled. “Actually I feel the need to get very, very drunk. I think this party's a no-hoper though.”
“Earth?”
“Yep. London's nightclub are a-calling. Although I need to make a stop first.”
“Of course.”
...
Earth.
Lyselle followed the cementary path to her mother's grave automatically. She slowed as she approached and then stopped, her eyes on the single carnation that lay across the gravestone. It was mainly yellow, the edges of its petals deepening to red.
The photograph took pride of place on the mantelpiece. The woman looking tired but happy, a bundle of blankets in her arms. On the cupboard by her bedside were several cards, two teddies and a basket of flowers.
Lyselle closed her eyes. She could see those flowers clearly. Carnations. Like this very one. Pain assaulted her, a spasm of grief, a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Then came a surge of anger and she snatched up the flower, intending to rip it to shreds. Yet she paused. Here gaze fell on the marker. “Maria Hart. Loving wife and mother.”
Wife. At some point he had loved her surely? They had had a child. The carnation dropped back onto the gravestone. Not for the first time, Lyselle wished herself normal. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her trousers. The fingers of one hand brushed something cold and round. She lifted it out, holding it before her eyes. Silver and small, the ball was an unassuming thing, yet with it she travelled the stars.
“Unique in all the world,” she said aloud.
The previous posts are here: ( Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three )
Earth date: 7th November 2001. Gallifrey.
The graduation of the Time Lords was an ancient ritual, full of deep meaning and reverence. Lyselle was bored witless. The only reason she was here in the first place was so she could get her hands on the cream-coloured scroll and then wave it under the noses of those tutors who'd said she fail. She twisted in her seat again, scanning the throng. Where was he? She slumped in her seat; it wasn't fair. If he didn't turn up soon he'd miss her finest hour.
The faculty head was still droning on when Lyselle felt the familiar prickling sensation on her scalp. She grinned to herself, but managed to force herself not to look. To those who were wary of her, the ability to sense the Doctor's presence over that of other Gallifreyans was just another thing they didn't understand, another indication she was different. Another reason to be wary.
Her name was called and she walked to the stage, a faint smile on her face. She did her best to look surprised and humble and ignored the fact the applause began as a smattering. She looked out at the sea of faces; they seemed blank to her, unimportant. Her eyes locked with a set that was unknown yet familiar. She grinned despite her best efforts to remain calm.
Descending the steps, she smiled pleasantly at the few who wished her well and sauntered to the back.
“I feel the need to celebrate,” she told the Doctor. She giggled. “Actually I feel the need to get very, very drunk. I think this party's a no-hoper though.”
“Earth?”
“Yep. London's nightclub are a-calling. Although I need to make a stop first.”
“Of course.”
...
Earth.
Lyselle followed the cementary path to her mother's grave automatically. She slowed as she approached and then stopped, her eyes on the single carnation that lay across the gravestone. It was mainly yellow, the edges of its petals deepening to red.
The photograph took pride of place on the mantelpiece. The woman looking tired but happy, a bundle of blankets in her arms. On the cupboard by her bedside were several cards, two teddies and a basket of flowers.
Lyselle closed her eyes. She could see those flowers clearly. Carnations. Like this very one. Pain assaulted her, a spasm of grief, a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Then came a surge of anger and she snatched up the flower, intending to rip it to shreds. Yet she paused. Here gaze fell on the marker. “Maria Hart. Loving wife and mother.”
Wife. At some point he had loved her surely? They had had a child. The carnation dropped back onto the gravestone. Not for the first time, Lyselle wished herself normal. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her trousers. The fingers of one hand brushed something cold and round. She lifted it out, holding it before her eyes. Silver and small, the ball was an unassuming thing, yet with it she travelled the stars.
“Unique in all the world,” she said aloud.
