Invidious - WOTD
invidious \in-VID-ee-uhs\, adjective:
1. Tending to provoke envy, resentment, or ill will.
2. Containing or implying a slight.
3. Envious
Green as glass
She's sitting on the bench out there, eating chips. Mickey's still at the van, and Jack is standing with him, cracking some kind of joke. Rose catches the end laughingly, hearing the last line, and not the middle.
He sits, impatiently cross-legged, on the control panel. One hand runs carelessly through his hair, and he brushes a few stray strands off his lapels.
Rose has her chips nicked by Jack - she lovingly punches him, and to tease him, steals a bite of his chocolate ice cream. He grins, and Mickey mutters something darkly about Rose being his girl. Rose and Jack both shake their heads, knowing each that Rose is no-one's. But there are feelings now that cannot be hurt, and there's time enough for Mickey to realise who she is when she's gone. It somehow always works out that way. She kisses him, as if to make up, but the seed of doubt is already planted there, deep, and one day it might grow.
But not yet. Rose simply smiles, and gestures to the man who walks across the park carrying a plastic cup of something like tea. She can tell he's grumbling about it by the way he shakes his head at it, a sad remonstrance. And then their eyes meet, and Mickey feels a shard of something not quite unlike glass, sharp and expressive, growing a little deeper within.
Green eyes, blue eyes. Rose can't see it yet, but she will. The Doctor strides over to her, takes a seat...
Focus on Mickey. Eyes downcast, he doesn't dare meet anyone's gaze. Silently he sits in their midst, feeling that odd twinge of what feels like pain. What feels like glass. He crumples the burger wrapper in his hand, cold.
And within the Tardis, the Doctor snaps off the monitor. He can't watch any more, and as soon as he sees himself on the monitor, with them all again, he relives the moment not in his head but in actuality. The fact he can't go out there and see himself again, watch his memories as real life, is an irony that does not elude him. When they were all together, and all happy.
"Oh, Rose," he starts: but it's spoken to an empty room. How to tell her, then, that even when she thought they were all happy, that the green - eyed monster had already planted its footprint over them all. Never mind the monsters outside. This one, green as glass, had been inside all the time.
He shakes his head again, and starts the engines. There'll be another time, perhaps not as carefree, perhaps not as bright. But maybe, they'll have always had Cardiff.
1. Tending to provoke envy, resentment, or ill will.
2. Containing or implying a slight.
3. Envious
Green as glass
She's sitting on the bench out there, eating chips. Mickey's still at the van, and Jack is standing with him, cracking some kind of joke. Rose catches the end laughingly, hearing the last line, and not the middle.
He sits, impatiently cross-legged, on the control panel. One hand runs carelessly through his hair, and he brushes a few stray strands off his lapels.
Rose has her chips nicked by Jack - she lovingly punches him, and to tease him, steals a bite of his chocolate ice cream. He grins, and Mickey mutters something darkly about Rose being his girl. Rose and Jack both shake their heads, knowing each that Rose is no-one's. But there are feelings now that cannot be hurt, and there's time enough for Mickey to realise who she is when she's gone. It somehow always works out that way. She kisses him, as if to make up, but the seed of doubt is already planted there, deep, and one day it might grow.
But not yet. Rose simply smiles, and gestures to the man who walks across the park carrying a plastic cup of something like tea. She can tell he's grumbling about it by the way he shakes his head at it, a sad remonstrance. And then their eyes meet, and Mickey feels a shard of something not quite unlike glass, sharp and expressive, growing a little deeper within.
Green eyes, blue eyes. Rose can't see it yet, but she will. The Doctor strides over to her, takes a seat...
Focus on Mickey. Eyes downcast, he doesn't dare meet anyone's gaze. Silently he sits in their midst, feeling that odd twinge of what feels like pain. What feels like glass. He crumples the burger wrapper in his hand, cold.
And within the Tardis, the Doctor snaps off the monitor. He can't watch any more, and as soon as he sees himself on the monitor, with them all again, he relives the moment not in his head but in actuality. The fact he can't go out there and see himself again, watch his memories as real life, is an irony that does not elude him. When they were all together, and all happy.
"Oh, Rose," he starts: but it's spoken to an empty room. How to tell her, then, that even when she thought they were all happy, that the green - eyed monster had already planted its footprint over them all. Never mind the monsters outside. This one, green as glass, had been inside all the time.
He shakes his head again, and starts the engines. There'll be another time, perhaps not as carefree, perhaps not as bright. But maybe, they'll have always had Cardiff.