allons_y_alonso (
allons_y_alonso) wrote in
thoughtformed2011-08-05 12:52 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
[ACTION LOG: TEN'S DREAM].
WHAT: An alien dreamscape.
WHO: Anyone is welcome!
WHEN: Portions of each night Thursday-Sunday.
On Gallifrey, halfway up a peak in the Mountains of Solace, its crown wreathed in snow and its foundations hidden by long burgundy grass, was the house of Lungbarrow. Like all the residences of the Time Lords, it was a wonder, but right now it lay empty, or nearly so, inhabited only by guilty visions of ghosts. Just past its front steps, gasping into the lawn and fiddling with the fastenings of his old and hated Academy uniform, sprawled a tall, lanky Gallifreyan with untidy brown hair, caught somewhere in hysteria, between laughter and sobbing.
"Horrible, beautiful planet," he murmured, clutching the grass by its roots with one hand, expecting it all to dissolve into the next moment. "You can't be here. And even if you were, I couldn't be here." He had woken in his old room -- so old it was almost forgotten -- and found himself already dressed for what he knew would be his first day at the Academy. The rest of the house had been less nostalgic, however, and he had escaped, as quick as he could, onto the south slope of the mountain, his favorite place to stare out and watch the dawn. Here, at least, he felt safe -- inside he could see the faces of those he had left here, or hear the gavel strike as judgment was rendered against him, or worse -- the terrible, world-altering throb of the Untempered Schism, as terrifying as it was transcendant.
Gallifrey. Gallifrey, and a second chance, even if it was plagued with reminders of centuries of failure -- maybe this time, he could do it right. There was an answer to that question, he thought, and he stared down the mountainside and waited for it to appear.
WHO: Anyone is welcome!
WHEN: Portions of each night Thursday-Sunday.
On Gallifrey, halfway up a peak in the Mountains of Solace, its crown wreathed in snow and its foundations hidden by long burgundy grass, was the house of Lungbarrow. Like all the residences of the Time Lords, it was a wonder, but right now it lay empty, or nearly so, inhabited only by guilty visions of ghosts. Just past its front steps, gasping into the lawn and fiddling with the fastenings of his old and hated Academy uniform, sprawled a tall, lanky Gallifreyan with untidy brown hair, caught somewhere in hysteria, between laughter and sobbing.
"Horrible, beautiful planet," he murmured, clutching the grass by its roots with one hand, expecting it all to dissolve into the next moment. "You can't be here. And even if you were, I couldn't be here." He had woken in his old room -- so old it was almost forgotten -- and found himself already dressed for what he knew would be his first day at the Academy. The rest of the house had been less nostalgic, however, and he had escaped, as quick as he could, onto the south slope of the mountain, his favorite place to stare out and watch the dawn. Here, at least, he felt safe -- inside he could see the faces of those he had left here, or hear the gavel strike as judgment was rendered against him, or worse -- the terrible, world-altering throb of the Untempered Schism, as terrifying as it was transcendant.
Gallifrey. Gallifrey, and a second chance, even if it was plagued with reminders of centuries of failure -- maybe this time, he could do it right. There was an answer to that question, he thought, and he stared down the mountainside and waited for it to appear.
no subject
"It's almost as beautiful as I remember it." His reminiscent tone was tainted with a hint of fear, much like his own, more recent memories of the city. How it fell. How he fled like a scared little boy to the end of the Universe to escape it.
no subject
It had yet to occur to him that this was a dream, in the deceptive way that even perfectly obvious dreams sometimes have. He knew things were not as they normally were. Knew he could remember graduating from the school he had not yet attended. And he knew oh so many things about his oldest and best friend that chilled him... almost as much as the things he had seen within Lungbarrow.
no subject
"I have to say, not the first place I expected to cross your path." He laid back in the grass, his arms behind his head, as if they were students again, escaping the academy for just a little while. "Certainly the more enjoyable choice, however." He stared up at the orange sky, letting memories of the old days flood back, gradually replacing his thoughts of more recent times.
no subject
Ah. There it is. Bit of a shame. And it was silly of him to dress his old friend up in Prydon colors again. Never had much school pride, except on the first day itself. Oh well. His brain has certainly conjured up worse and more dangerous fancies than this amiable version of his old, dear nemesis.
no subject
"I miss it, too." He admitted, his voice distant, but honest. More honest than he would usually be about such a subject. "We were quite something different in these days. Look at us now." He trailed off on that thought, rubbing his temple gently. He wished, at least in his dreams, or as the case was, in the dreams of someone else, that bloody drumming would give it a rest.
no subject
no subject
"Oh, but we were fantastic trouble. No one can claim we were not a memorable class."
no subject
He paused a moment in thought.
"Of course, about a quarter of those later threats were us, too..."
no subject
"They brought just as many threats upon themselves as we did."
no subject
It didn't take long for Jack to realise he wasn't alone. The unmistakable sound of rapid dampened footfalls told Jack that someone was running his way. His brow knit together, as he tried to figure out just who it was that was approaching. But after a moment, there was no confusing that wild brown mop. "Doctor?" If he was here, maybe this was a dream. Awesome.
no subject
He very carefully did not step too close, still peering warily at Jack's face.
no subject
no subject
He trailed off after a moment, and glanced back over his shoulder. "No," he said, absently. "I don't think anything is chasing me. Waiting, maybe, but not chasing. Small blessings."
no subject
Flirting was over. For now. Jack winked at The Doctor and turned to look around. "So you know this place, then? Came to school here? Where are we?"
no subject
Right. That wouldn't mean too much to Jack, though, would it? After a moment, he added, hesitantly, "This is the house where I grew up."
no subject
It took Jack a moment to understand the complete significance of what he was witnessing, and turned to The Doctor with a rather surprised look on his face. "Wait... If you grew up here... Is this your family estate? Is... Lungbarrow your name?"
no subject
He was patently not being honest -- except about the first part. That was not his name.
"As for the house, it goes deeply into the side of the mountain. So bigger on the inside, yes. But maybe not the way you mean."
To the trained eye, the Doctor was plainly still being evasive, glossing over something awkward or uncomfortable.
no subject
"So then, all of that means that this must be your home planet.." Jack looked around with a new sense of appreciation for the scenery. "Unless this is all just a wacky dream I'm having. Still, never seen actually red grass before. Even in my dreams. But then, if I'm dreaming, that definitely explains the uniform."
no subject
no subject
He then turned his attention to the scenery once more, taking in its stunning beauty at his leisure and even bending down to pluck a few blades of the grass to examine. "It's beautiful. Much more beautiful than I'd imagined. Would I be too forward if I asked for a tour?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
"There."
no subject
no subject
"It's a wonderful world, Jack," he says simply. "Let me show it to you."
no subject
Making an overly dramatic sweep of his arm outward, Jack bent into a bow and smiled up at The Doctor affectionately. "It would be my honour. After you, good Doctor."
no subject
no subject
"Lovely morning for some music," he said, projecting his voice and waiting for a reply.
no subject
no subject
"Hel-lo," he says, slowly, fumbling for his brainy specs (which are there, irrationally, even though his screwdriver isn't), and staring at his alarming visitor over their rims. "Out for a morning stroll?"
no subject
The snow around them begins to crack, the rock beginning to threaten to give way.
no subject
Well, he thinks. Certainly worth a try, at any rate.
no subject
no subject
no subject
If there is one thing that is certain, it is that everything that lives must die. Death does not take, Death arrives. It is time, and then, it was time. It has nothing to do with belonging, but realizing the inevitable. There are no mistakes, Doctor. Cast away your grief and accept the end that has befallen this planet. If you do not, the consequences you sow will be catastrophic.
And the scythe swings, the snow peak beginning to chip away. The pieces that fall upward are large and unnatural, they coil upward towards the sky, twisting like they're writing in their last moments before turning to ash. As the landscape begins to disappear, there's no where to go but the depth of the darkness below.
no subject
"In that case, maybe there's a friend of mine you ought to meet..."
no subject
For a while, it's quiet.
no subject
When he bursts through to Gallifrey, he comes to a full stop. The sunrise is enchanting, and he stares at it for a few minutes before bothering to look down. "Hi, Doctor!" John shouts before descending. He hovers a few feet off the ground and looks back at the sky again before turning his bright, slightly stupid smile back to the man. "Is this your planet? It's so cool looking!"
no subject
"Yes, this is Gallifrey. Shining World of the Seven Systems, they used to call it. And this is how it looked at its best. Second-best day of my young life, this was."
no subject
"It's so nice here. Thank you for letting me visit," the boy says, pushing the god tier hood off his head. John takes the sight in for a few more moments before turning to the Doctor with quizzical innocence written all over his face. "Second best?"
no subject
A smile twitches at his lips. "The very best day was just the same," he explains, "even if it was quite a while later. Only instead of going down to explore the universe..." He points up at the brightening sky, the last visible stars fading in the dawn. "I was going up."
no subject
"I like that you have traveled all over the place, but both of your favorite memories are on your home planet." It's one of those things John says that implies maybe he's seen too much of the world for his thirteen years. There is no bitterness or weariness in his voice, just sincere appreciation for ties to home. He turns his head to look around before asking, "Do you have family here?"
no subject
"No. Not here. Not anymore."
no subject
When her awe-filled wanderings finally led her to where her father was sprawled, it seemed the most natural thing in the Universe to stretch out in the grass next to him and watch the sunrise. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
"This must be the most beautiful planet in the Universe." Her voice came out a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the world around them. In the back of her mind it felt like an impossible place, but she wanted to stay there as long as she could and soak it all in.
no subject
He wonders, but does not yet ask, if some part of her knows what world this is. Can she feel it? The distant, unsettling, captivating power of the Untempered Schism? The way that time itself cradles the world like a child? That affinity, resonating in her bones, that calls this planet unmistakeably, irreplaceably home?
For that matter, did he ever truly feel such a thing, outside moments of homesick nostalgia, most of them coming after the planet was lost forever?
no subject