Paraselene - commentary
Commentary for glory_jean. I've enjoyed doing them -- ask for more?
I had such a distinct mental image as the inspiration for this. It was originally written for a challenge at dwliterotica for a prompt of "the Moon."
Let me tell you first what a paraselene is. Apparently the more common name is the prosaic "moon dog," but I always referred to them as "moonbows." Technically, and somewhat embarrassingly, what I thought of as a paraselene is just a moon halo. Whoops. No, self, a paraselene occurs as part of a lunar halo, when there is a pair of bright spots along the ring at 22° to the left and ring. There is a corresponding phenomenon for the sun known as (guess what?) a sun dog or a parhelion.
I hate it when I get my science wrong. It's one thing to handwave it away on purpose, of course, which I do with considerable enthusiasm. Anyway, it isn't relevant to the story, which is really about Rose lying on her back on an alien planet staring into the sky, but it still annoys me.
...
"There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery." - Joseph Conrad
I love Joseph Conrad.
Rose looked up into the clear night and felt the spinning of the world under her. The ghostly light of a band of stars (not the Milky Way, not here) traced a line through the blackness.
A lot of my own reactions to astronomical phenomenon come into this story. This moment of disorientation comes from a moment more than a decade ago when I walked out from a bunch of trees onto the water's edge where the Milky Way was very, very visible, and it was like stepping off the edge of the world. For a very dizzying moment, I didn't know which way was up. It was utterly exhilarating.
A bright halo circled around the moon, almost too white and ethereal to be real.
My not-actually-a-paraselene. Damn. When I wrote this, I had just seen the most spectacular moon ring I'd ever seen on a very clear, cold night. It absolutely dominated the sky and made me wish I'd had a camera.
Around her, the grass in the field where they lay whispered softly in the wind. She felt the tracing of the light breeze on her face and pressed more firmly into the ground beneath her. She felt exposed, laid bare to the elements, a small speck of humanity on the face of a whirling globe in the emptiness of the stars. If she let go, she would fall, into the darkness, just as he had said he felt all that time ago.
More of my own experience again, with the sense that we're all just barely tethered to the surface and could simply fall away.
She squeezed tighter onto the Doctor's hand in hers and he responded in kind by moving his thumb slightly, just enough to reassure her that he was there with her. This was what scared her: not the flights for her life, but the moments of insight into the life he led. When her adrenaline pumped and her mind whirled, she felt alive and vital. When they stood still, she saw, and she thought she might know why he lived such a manic life. If he stopped, he too would fall.
I stand by that assessment of the Doctor. He doesn't like to stop and reflect deeply; it's too much for any mortal to bear.
He had brought her here to see something heart-stoppingly lovely, with the usual lecture about the science behind the spectacle. She had listened absently as he spread out his coat on the grass for them. It was not until they were both on their backs looking into the night sky that Rose felt the sudden lurch of motion sickness and the sense that she could tumble down into the stars and the moon for eternity. Reflexively, her hand had jerked out for his, steadying and solid. Now, they breathed in the night together, staring into an ever-circling line of light around an unfamiliar moon.
She turned onto her side to face him, putting her head on his shoulder. He released her hand and slid an arm around her to draw her closer. The familiar wool of his suit jacket prickled against her cheek. She closed her eyes and let him ground her to the world.
I like to think they did a lot of this, between the running and the adventures.
Time passed.
With her eyes closed, with the Doctor's hand stroking her back, the cold light of the moon washed over her. They were explorers, the only two people in existence, alone yet together. When she opened her eyes and moved her mouth toward his, his timeless eyes bored back into hers, as deep and dark as the sky above them.
She pressed up onto one elbow, rolling a little away from him. He followed her with his eyes but, uncharacteristically, said nothing, just let a whisper of a smile cross his lips. Wind brushed softly across her back and through her hair. He reached up with one hand and drew a single finger across her cheek, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, stroking her hair, pulling her back down again to him.
They're lovers in this piece, but they're not precisely equals. It's a different relationship than the one I have portrayed elsewhere in my writing.
The kiss was gentle, reassuring, thorough. Rose again ended it, pulling away, but drew him to her as she moved onto her back. He shifted easily across her, pressing her into the grass and against his coat, the only thing preventing her from tumbling into the dark and the sky and the universe alone. Rose put her hands into his hair and down his back.
Okay, so I have a thing about sex on the coat. I am not the only one, either. And, it's practical. I can't imagine either one of them carry blankets around with them and there could be bugs … alien, biting little bugs … or at the very least, dirt. Plus? Sex on the coat. C'mon.
She opened her eyes as he kissed her and looked past his shoulder and into the unfathomable sky. There, the moon shone, the encircling light pushing back the darkness.
I'm not sure that I managed to convey what I wanted here. What I had in mind was that the moon ring was like a bubble, with the pressure outward, with everything else dark outside. With a bright one, the stars are mostly obscured, so it does look like there's very little else in the sky.
The Doctor trailed kisses along her jaw and to her ear. His soft tongue traced the curve of her earlobe. She pulled his shirt untucked and he arched his back to allow her access the buttons along the front. As he shrugged his shirt off, she pulled hers over her head. The rest of their clothing was discarded as easily and bare skin glowed softly in the cool moonlight.
They are a pair of pale, pale people.
For a moment, she felt shy, until the Doctor murmured something low and urgent against her cheek. The kiss this time was not gentle. His hands flowed over her body, against her breasts and belly and between her legs. She kissed him back with all her might. He pulled away and searched her eyes with his. Again, she felt the rolling disorientation, as if she had been submerged into water and struggled to find the surface. This time the depth of the darkness was not the sky, but his eyes, wild and familiar and filled with what she wanted to call love, or passion. He would not say, and she would not ask.
Again - they're not equals. She isn't going to press him for more than he wants to give her.
She looped one leg around him and tilted her hips against his, inviting. He released her from his gaze and bent his head to kiss her neck and jaw. Then he shifted and was against her, inside her, and she drew up her knees and moved against him. His face was buried in her neck, soft words rolling out incomprehensibly. The stars and the moon with its huge surrounding circle loomed over them and Rose pressed herself back into the ground, up against the Doctor, again, again, again.
There's something about him on top, with her staring out into the night sky. Very alone, both of them, even when they're making love.
When she came, she squeezed her eyes closed and dug her fingers into his back. He abruptly lifted his head and kissed her frantically, burying any sounds he might have made, or words he might have said, in his own climax.
Afterward, his body weighed her down. She sighed and nuzzled his neck. He was cool to the touch, even with the faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. When he lifted away from her, her skin prickled immediately into countless goose bumps and she protested. He smiled beneficently and drew the coat over her. She burrowed down into its warmth and watched him as he sat up and drew his knees to his chest, staring up at the stars.
Yes, he is naked. Naked pale Doctor under the moonlight. I should probably have dwelled more on that particular image, but I suppose it's an opportunity lost.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. The exhilarating disorientation had ebbed and she felt, once again, a person on the ground, small under the sky, but pulled down, not falling out into the darkness.
The Doctor lifted his hand and traced a circle in the air, pointing to the moon and its bright ring. “It’s perfect,” he said. When he turned and met her eyes, he repeated the words. “It’s perfect.”
The words came up in her throat, the words she should not, must not, say to him. She was sure he knew already, how could he not? And she knew how he felt about her. This was the strange dance they did, soul mates and companions and lovers, but never spoken of. She had said “forever,” and saw him disbelieve her. If she told him how she felt, she would see the same disbelief and distance in those eyes and it would break her.
He wants to believe that she won't leave him, but he knows better, and she knows he's pretending.
Instead she told him in countless ways with her movements, her actions, her eyes, and listened with her whole self for the responses he gave in the same way. It was enough.
She sat up as well and scooted over to him, resting her head on his shoulder. His bare arm came around her, again with his hand tracing gently on her back, and she felt contentment wash over her in a wave.
He loves her too, but he's always going to be emotionally aloof from her, and she's not going to push him for more than that. This Doctor and Rose are not particularly healthy together, and it's interesting to explore that for a while - it's not my typical view of them.
Above them, the moon and its ring shone in the sky, brighter than the millions of stars around it, brilliant in its icy shine, but still transient in its beauty.
I had such a distinct mental image as the inspiration for this. It was originally written for a challenge at dwliterotica for a prompt of "the Moon."
Let me tell you first what a paraselene is. Apparently the more common name is the prosaic "moon dog," but I always referred to them as "moonbows." Technically, and somewhat embarrassingly, what I thought of as a paraselene is just a moon halo. Whoops. No, self, a paraselene occurs as part of a lunar halo, when there is a pair of bright spots along the ring at 22° to the left and ring. There is a corresponding phenomenon for the sun known as (guess what?) a sun dog or a parhelion.
I hate it when I get my science wrong. It's one thing to handwave it away on purpose, of course, which I do with considerable enthusiasm. Anyway, it isn't relevant to the story, which is really about Rose lying on her back on an alien planet staring into the sky, but it still annoys me.
...
"There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery." - Joseph Conrad
I love Joseph Conrad.
Rose looked up into the clear night and felt the spinning of the world under her. The ghostly light of a band of stars (not the Milky Way, not here) traced a line through the blackness.
A lot of my own reactions to astronomical phenomenon come into this story. This moment of disorientation comes from a moment more than a decade ago when I walked out from a bunch of trees onto the water's edge where the Milky Way was very, very visible, and it was like stepping off the edge of the world. For a very dizzying moment, I didn't know which way was up. It was utterly exhilarating.
A bright halo circled around the moon, almost too white and ethereal to be real.
My not-actually-a-paraselene. Damn. When I wrote this, I had just seen the most spectacular moon ring I'd ever seen on a very clear, cold night. It absolutely dominated the sky and made me wish I'd had a camera.
Around her, the grass in the field where they lay whispered softly in the wind. She felt the tracing of the light breeze on her face and pressed more firmly into the ground beneath her. She felt exposed, laid bare to the elements, a small speck of humanity on the face of a whirling globe in the emptiness of the stars. If she let go, she would fall, into the darkness, just as he had said he felt all that time ago.
More of my own experience again, with the sense that we're all just barely tethered to the surface and could simply fall away.
She squeezed tighter onto the Doctor's hand in hers and he responded in kind by moving his thumb slightly, just enough to reassure her that he was there with her. This was what scared her: not the flights for her life, but the moments of insight into the life he led. When her adrenaline pumped and her mind whirled, she felt alive and vital. When they stood still, she saw, and she thought she might know why he lived such a manic life. If he stopped, he too would fall.
I stand by that assessment of the Doctor. He doesn't like to stop and reflect deeply; it's too much for any mortal to bear.
He had brought her here to see something heart-stoppingly lovely, with the usual lecture about the science behind the spectacle. She had listened absently as he spread out his coat on the grass for them. It was not until they were both on their backs looking into the night sky that Rose felt the sudden lurch of motion sickness and the sense that she could tumble down into the stars and the moon for eternity. Reflexively, her hand had jerked out for his, steadying and solid. Now, they breathed in the night together, staring into an ever-circling line of light around an unfamiliar moon.
She turned onto her side to face him, putting her head on his shoulder. He released her hand and slid an arm around her to draw her closer. The familiar wool of his suit jacket prickled against her cheek. She closed her eyes and let him ground her to the world.
I like to think they did a lot of this, between the running and the adventures.
Time passed.
With her eyes closed, with the Doctor's hand stroking her back, the cold light of the moon washed over her. They were explorers, the only two people in existence, alone yet together. When she opened her eyes and moved her mouth toward his, his timeless eyes bored back into hers, as deep and dark as the sky above them.
She pressed up onto one elbow, rolling a little away from him. He followed her with his eyes but, uncharacteristically, said nothing, just let a whisper of a smile cross his lips. Wind brushed softly across her back and through her hair. He reached up with one hand and drew a single finger across her cheek, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, stroking her hair, pulling her back down again to him.
They're lovers in this piece, but they're not precisely equals. It's a different relationship than the one I have portrayed elsewhere in my writing.
The kiss was gentle, reassuring, thorough. Rose again ended it, pulling away, but drew him to her as she moved onto her back. He shifted easily across her, pressing her into the grass and against his coat, the only thing preventing her from tumbling into the dark and the sky and the universe alone. Rose put her hands into his hair and down his back.
Okay, so I have a thing about sex on the coat. I am not the only one, either. And, it's practical. I can't imagine either one of them carry blankets around with them and there could be bugs … alien, biting little bugs … or at the very least, dirt. Plus? Sex on the coat. C'mon.
She opened her eyes as he kissed her and looked past his shoulder and into the unfathomable sky. There, the moon shone, the encircling light pushing back the darkness.
I'm not sure that I managed to convey what I wanted here. What I had in mind was that the moon ring was like a bubble, with the pressure outward, with everything else dark outside. With a bright one, the stars are mostly obscured, so it does look like there's very little else in the sky.
The Doctor trailed kisses along her jaw and to her ear. His soft tongue traced the curve of her earlobe. She pulled his shirt untucked and he arched his back to allow her access the buttons along the front. As he shrugged his shirt off, she pulled hers over her head. The rest of their clothing was discarded as easily and bare skin glowed softly in the cool moonlight.
They are a pair of pale, pale people.
For a moment, she felt shy, until the Doctor murmured something low and urgent against her cheek. The kiss this time was not gentle. His hands flowed over her body, against her breasts and belly and between her legs. She kissed him back with all her might. He pulled away and searched her eyes with his. Again, she felt the rolling disorientation, as if she had been submerged into water and struggled to find the surface. This time the depth of the darkness was not the sky, but his eyes, wild and familiar and filled with what she wanted to call love, or passion. He would not say, and she would not ask.
Again - they're not equals. She isn't going to press him for more than he wants to give her.
She looped one leg around him and tilted her hips against his, inviting. He released her from his gaze and bent his head to kiss her neck and jaw. Then he shifted and was against her, inside her, and she drew up her knees and moved against him. His face was buried in her neck, soft words rolling out incomprehensibly. The stars and the moon with its huge surrounding circle loomed over them and Rose pressed herself back into the ground, up against the Doctor, again, again, again.
There's something about him on top, with her staring out into the night sky. Very alone, both of them, even when they're making love.
When she came, she squeezed her eyes closed and dug her fingers into his back. He abruptly lifted his head and kissed her frantically, burying any sounds he might have made, or words he might have said, in his own climax.
Afterward, his body weighed her down. She sighed and nuzzled his neck. He was cool to the touch, even with the faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. When he lifted away from her, her skin prickled immediately into countless goose bumps and she protested. He smiled beneficently and drew the coat over her. She burrowed down into its warmth and watched him as he sat up and drew his knees to his chest, staring up at the stars.
Yes, he is naked. Naked pale Doctor under the moonlight. I should probably have dwelled more on that particular image, but I suppose it's an opportunity lost.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. The exhilarating disorientation had ebbed and she felt, once again, a person on the ground, small under the sky, but pulled down, not falling out into the darkness.
The Doctor lifted his hand and traced a circle in the air, pointing to the moon and its bright ring. “It’s perfect,” he said. When he turned and met her eyes, he repeated the words. “It’s perfect.”
The words came up in her throat, the words she should not, must not, say to him. She was sure he knew already, how could he not? And she knew how he felt about her. This was the strange dance they did, soul mates and companions and lovers, but never spoken of. She had said “forever,” and saw him disbelieve her. If she told him how she felt, she would see the same disbelief and distance in those eyes and it would break her.
He wants to believe that she won't leave him, but he knows better, and she knows he's pretending.
Instead she told him in countless ways with her movements, her actions, her eyes, and listened with her whole self for the responses he gave in the same way. It was enough.
She sat up as well and scooted over to him, resting her head on his shoulder. His bare arm came around her, again with his hand tracing gently on her back, and she felt contentment wash over her in a wave.
He loves her too, but he's always going to be emotionally aloof from her, and she's not going to push him for more than that. This Doctor and Rose are not particularly healthy together, and it's interesting to explore that for a while - it's not my typical view of them.
Above them, the moon and its ring shone in the sky, brighter than the millions of stars around it, brilliant in its icy shine, but still transient in its beauty.