River Song ("River" entry)
Sep. 14th, 2014 01:36 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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who_contestTitle: River Song
Rating: K+
Genre: General/Drama
Word Count: EXACTLY 550 words (YESSS :D).
Pairings or Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Clara Oswald, Melody Zuckers
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: Has music ever moved you to tears? Or away from it?
The Doctor was acting strange –he was unnaturally silent, and none of his usual clumsiness was apparent. In a pretty moonlit forest clearing next to a tinkling brook, Clara watched as he pottered about arranging things. She had to go closer to see them properly: near-invisible wind chimes glinted from the branches of several trees, glassy pebbles littered the bed of the stream, and subtle hollow twig-thingies poked out here and there. She had never seen him like this before: so solemn and quiet, and not just in speaking.
“Anything wrong?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He adjusted a few pebbles and wiped his hands on his trousers before realising that she had spoken.
“What? –no, I just need this to be perfect.”
She cocked her head and looked around. Frankly, she couldn’t even see all his thingummybobs. “I could give you my opinion… if I knew what perfect’s supposed to be.”
“In a minute, Clara.” He had understood her roundabout way of asking for an explanation and had shut her down. Just like that. It was frightening.
“Where are we?” She ventured when she could bear the silence no longer. She wasn’t even expecting a reply.
“England. 1990’s. Just outside Leadworth.” He gestured over his shoulder as he tied up something with a string between his teeth. Clara had to stand on top of a tree stump to see the lights in a nearby dark valley.
“Never heard of it.”
That made him snort, and she felt giddy with relief. “You wouldn’t have. Dull as doldrums.”
“Doesn’t sound like a ‘you’ kinda place.”
“It isn’t.”
She was highly tempted to ask why, but she didn’t like to interrupt him. They were interrupted anyway in the next moment.
A loud rustling.
The Doctor grabbed her arm and pulled themselves into a conveniently thick bush.
“What-”
“Shh.”
A small click, and a little blue ball glowed into existence at their feet.
“We’re cloaked now.”
Before she could respond, a small dark figure appeared in the clearing. Clara could just make out the bushy curls crowning the head. For a while, they just watched the girl. She sat with a huff on a rock by the stream, and Clara realised, horrified, that she was crying. The Doctor spoke before she could ask.
“It’s her birthday, you see. No one knows.”
“So… she’s alone?” Clara’s heart twisted.
A deep sigh. “No. But no one knows that today was the day she was actually born.”
“Adopted, then?”
“Somewhat.”
Clara didn’t question the ‘somewhat’. People the Doctor knew always had a ‘somewhat’.
“You’re wondering why we’re here.” He stood up. “We’re here to wish her a very happy birthday.” Clara turned to him incredulously.
“Are you going to sing?”
That brought a smile to his face. “Ha! No. Don’t want to scare her away. Definitely not.”
He raised his sonic screwdriver. “I got these thingies on Daryllium.” His voice was strained. “Lovely place, Daryllium. Ever so musical.” The screwdriver emitted a low whirr. Soft, impossibly beautiful music echoed around them.
“The people call this brook Puddlemere or Whistlethrush or something as silly. I just call it The River.” He rested his gaze on the girl and smiled. “And I call this …the River Song.”
The girl was smiling, too. The tears were now in Clara’s eyes.
Rating: K+
Genre: General/Drama
Word Count: EXACTLY 550 words (YESSS :D).
Pairings or Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Clara Oswald, Melody Zuckers
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: Has music ever moved you to tears? Or away from it?
The Doctor was acting strange –he was unnaturally silent, and none of his usual clumsiness was apparent. In a pretty moonlit forest clearing next to a tinkling brook, Clara watched as he pottered about arranging things. She had to go closer to see them properly: near-invisible wind chimes glinted from the branches of several trees, glassy pebbles littered the bed of the stream, and subtle hollow twig-thingies poked out here and there. She had never seen him like this before: so solemn and quiet, and not just in speaking.
“Anything wrong?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He adjusted a few pebbles and wiped his hands on his trousers before realising that she had spoken.
“What? –no, I just need this to be perfect.”
She cocked her head and looked around. Frankly, she couldn’t even see all his thingummybobs. “I could give you my opinion… if I knew what perfect’s supposed to be.”
“In a minute, Clara.” He had understood her roundabout way of asking for an explanation and had shut her down. Just like that. It was frightening.
“Where are we?” She ventured when she could bear the silence no longer. She wasn’t even expecting a reply.
“England. 1990’s. Just outside Leadworth.” He gestured over his shoulder as he tied up something with a string between his teeth. Clara had to stand on top of a tree stump to see the lights in a nearby dark valley.
“Never heard of it.”
That made him snort, and she felt giddy with relief. “You wouldn’t have. Dull as doldrums.”
“Doesn’t sound like a ‘you’ kinda place.”
“It isn’t.”
She was highly tempted to ask why, but she didn’t like to interrupt him. They were interrupted anyway in the next moment.
A loud rustling.
The Doctor grabbed her arm and pulled themselves into a conveniently thick bush.
“What-”
“Shh.”
A small click, and a little blue ball glowed into existence at their feet.
“We’re cloaked now.”
Before she could respond, a small dark figure appeared in the clearing. Clara could just make out the bushy curls crowning the head. For a while, they just watched the girl. She sat with a huff on a rock by the stream, and Clara realised, horrified, that she was crying. The Doctor spoke before she could ask.
“It’s her birthday, you see. No one knows.”
“So… she’s alone?” Clara’s heart twisted.
A deep sigh. “No. But no one knows that today was the day she was actually born.”
“Adopted, then?”
“Somewhat.”
Clara didn’t question the ‘somewhat’. People the Doctor knew always had a ‘somewhat’.
“You’re wondering why we’re here.” He stood up. “We’re here to wish her a very happy birthday.” Clara turned to him incredulously.
“Are you going to sing?”
That brought a smile to his face. “Ha! No. Don’t want to scare her away. Definitely not.”
He raised his sonic screwdriver. “I got these thingies on Daryllium.” His voice was strained. “Lovely place, Daryllium. Ever so musical.” The screwdriver emitted a low whirr. Soft, impossibly beautiful music echoed around them.
“The people call this brook Puddlemere or Whistlethrush or something as silly. I just call it The River.” He rested his gaze on the girl and smiled. “And I call this …the River Song.”
The girl was smiling, too. The tears were now in Clara’s eyes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-13 08:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-13 08:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-13 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-14 01:28 am (UTC)And very very sneaky. I didn't get it until the mention of Daryllium, then bam! And the River, and the River Song.
Good job you!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-14 10:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-15 05:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-15 10:34 pm (UTC)*HUGS*
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-17 02:27 pm (UTC)Thanks again!!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-18 07:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-21 08:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-22 09:49 am (UTC)Favourite line: People the Doctor knew always had a ‘somewhat’. *snorts* This is perfect. The needed comic breathing room after a heavy part.