the sun and the moon above
he was composed of constellations and over-sized coats.
The feeling of emptiness frightened her, really. She was apprehensive, most of the time, but the utter void that nestled in the cavity between her lungs was more worrying than anything. She had no heart to speak of, only remnants of horror-terror occupation, their vice-like tentacles still danced across her hips, her spine, down her thighs, and she felt oh so ugly.
Her death simply delayed their eventual consumption, she would lose sight of the light she harnessed. Eventually. Death was a blessing, her brother muttered underneath the violet fluorescent lights, casting a sickly glow on his already pale visage. She tittered, and rolled her eyes, pressing finger tips against her lips, hiding the start of a small grin. She couldn't let him see, now could she? The red-eyed blonde gave her a snort, and turned his back, jumping out of the nearest window, leaving Rose all alone.
She took her brother's exit as an opportunity to explore. Maybe that would incite emotions, maybe that would make her feel something. Lavender eyes carved a path out of glass and plaster, ballet shoes lead her out of the tower, barely brushing against the window pane left open from an earlier escape. In the air, she could see everything, her analytic side was on overdrive, memorizing every detail, every stroke on painted signs, blood splattered civilians littered the otherwise empty streets below. She felt no apathy, or empathy.
The blonde wished she could. Touching down on the ravaged roads, she regained her bearings and took a second to assess her location. Twenty stories below her dreaded tower. She could see the anchor that held Derse's broken chain. Rose bit her lower lip, and continued walking. Her footfalls were light, and she kept staring into the horizon, occasionally catching glimpse of a shadowy creature, or a ray from Skaia's battlefield. If the girl tried hard enough, she would probably hear a carapace getting their head blown to bits.
Unfortunate, and gruesome. Such a shame. Adjusting her headband, she carried on. She had to get to somewhere exciting eventually.
She looked up from the ruins of a piece of cloth, and let out a short, shocked gasp. Immediately looking for others who might have witnessed the event, she returned her attention to the object that had caused her to lose her forever poised cool.
A blue police box, bathed in yellow light. Rose stepped back, losing her footing on a crack in the asphalt, landing on her back, red stained her otherwise spotless pajamas. Seeing stars for the slightest of seconds, she rubbed her eyes, and focused on the whistling man made of skin and bones stumbling out of his contraption, laughing at some private joke while snapping his fingers. The door shut behind him, and he took a second to gaze at his current ordeal, stretching like an alley cat, a permanent grin etched onto his features.
Rose simply stared. He was fluid, every movement was like water, he simply flowed from place to place. It actually took him a second to look down at the blonde girl on the floor, grimy and dirty. He was visibly surprised, and immediately bent down to help her, hand extended as an offering. Rose hesitated, and his chocolatier brown eyes twinkled in amusement.
Gingerly, she took his hand anyway.
With a comical "ollie up!", she was back on her feet, although still feeling a bit wobbly. He laughed, and kept his hand in hers, shaking it. She returned the gesture, confused and curious all at the same time, maybe this was her chance.
"Sorry to bump into you, guess my eyes really do need those brainy specs!"
Rose wasn't one to display emotions so freely, but her confusion was obvious. He let out another brisk chuckle, and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry about that. I have some glasses, but they're usually to make me look more intelligent. They help me think."
The girl's lips stretched into a smile. "That's actually quite interesting, mysterious stranger. I have various friends who don glasses. They look quite average, however. I'm sure you look like quite the professor with them."
"Oh no, River's the professor. I'm the Doctor." His brunette hair flopped on his head almost boyishly, and she couldn't help but raise her eyebrow at the announcement.
"The Doctor? That's it? Is there a name attached to the incredibly prestigious title?" The man shook his head, before adjusting the tan duster that rested on his pinstripe blue suit.
"It's just the Doctor."
"Interesting." Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek, unsure of where to take the conversation at hand. She was never lost for words, but this man, this man unnerved her. He was made out of magic, and charm, she was almost sure of it.
He gave her another toothy grin. "How about you? What's your name? The purple pajamas are an interesting touch, mind tell me where we are?"
Rose flinched, his barrage of questions came at her like bullets, faster and faster with every passing syllable. Immediately she put on her mental armor, mind's eye wrapping itself with the protective power of imaginary scarves and dual-toned glasses. Taking a breath, she was prepared to answer his queries.
"We're on a moon called Derse. It takes residence in the Medium, and this reality seems to be part of a completely harmless game." He listened with wide eyes, and attentive nods. She addressed the first question.
"My name is Rose."
His demeanor reacted instantly. Shoulders sagged, vibrant hair seemed to droop. The girl tilted her head at the sight, as the man, the Doctor, gave her a cracked smile, mouth sealed tight, teeth no longer visible against his chapped lips.
He's disappointed in something. She thought it was her, but he the way he raised his eyebrows at the floor, as if to symbolize something, deny the idea. His emotions are so fluid, they are the Niagara Falls she hated so much, and she can't keep up with him, she can't analyze him, she can't she can't she can't.
"I had a friend named Rose once." His voice takes on a quality Rose wished she could call bittersweet, but it rings of melancholic heartbreak. "She liked the color pink, and was a very nice person."
There are tomes of unspoken history hidden sloppily behind his words, they are said painfully, almost meticulously. He has more to say, but is refusing to do so. His hands shake under too-long sleeves, and her body moves towards him, her hands grasp his fingers, it's all unconscious movement. A hurricane of empathy trembles under her skin, she is a cascade of free-floating sorrow.
"I apologize for your loss." The words seem foreign in her mouth, they taste of mockery. The Doctor simply shakes his head in a way that's almost familiar to her, she's seen that gesture before somewhere, and can't place it on who. It's not until the man straightened himself up, towering over her by a good two feet, and placed a hand on her blonde head that she realized.
His facade was a reminder of her mother. She felt a pang inside her chest, and clutched at her night shirt, the pain was blinding. Blood vessels seemed to be exploding in her veins, she fell to her knees. The Doctor quickly fell to her level, placed his hand against her forehead, checked for any symptoms of horrible diseases, before remembering that he really wasn't a medic in that sense.
Rose felt the world go black, and she closed her eyes. Breathing heavily, she fell into the man's arms, face buried in his layers of suits, blinking back clear tears, with no trace of the opaque dark they once shed. The brunette patted her back, attempted to murmur words of encouragement, attempted to soothe the sobbing Seer.
"Hey, now. Don't you cry on me, we just met, and I feel like there's potential for an adventure." His words were kind, and gentle. He was genuinely trying to help, despite his own demons, and grievances, and Rose only cried harder. It had been years, maybe more, since she last broke down in such a hysteria, she clutched at his suit, and made no attempt to wipe the tears on her cheeks.
Calloused fingers brushed against her face, collecting tear drops. The Doctor gave her another smile, and helped her back up.
"I'm so sorry, I'm not usually like this." Her attempt to remedy the situation was flat, and he laughed. Her lips pursed, and she tried her best not to pout, because Rose Lalonde does not pout, it simply does not happen.
"Chin up, Rose! Can't have you crying over something. It doesn't suit you." He still held her hand.
"No, it doesn't. However." She let go of his hand to wipe away the remaining tears. "It's a necessary exercise of the human anatomy. Many apologies for showing you the darker side of the human race."
The Doctor laughed.
"No need to apologize. Care to relieve your worries?"
Rose stared at the man in front of her, a crazed individual with a blue police box, a mess of constellations and oversized coats.
"You remind me of my mother. She was an eccentric drunk, but had a very..." her voice faltered for a second. "...a very noble heart." The blood on her shirt had dried by now, it was the color of burnt burgundy. Her blonde hair was matte, and she was sure she looked like a train wreck after her episode, but the Doctor made no note of her appearance, he simply gave her a pensive stare.
"I wouldn't associate myself as a drunk, but your mother seemed like an exceptional human. I've never met one who wasn't." The man gave the girl another pat on the shoulder, and squeezed lightly in reassurance. Rose gave him a nod, and finally, a smile. He clapped once, and the doors of his magical device opened. With a grin, he gave her a bow, and Rose carefully peered inside, the gizmos and gadgets inside of the machine would have given the twins on Prospit a delight.
She was much more interested in its spatial capacities, and found herself walking into the police box. The Doctor hurried in after her, and began pushing at buttons, and levers, until the familiar scratch against piano strings shook the Dersite air.
notes: for dani! the prompt was some tenth doctor/rose lalonde interaction with a minimum word count of 500. i think i did pretty well.