♚ For once leave the dreaming [to someone else]
It was small, the envelope she held in her hand. Over and over she turned the item, her gaze focused on the window in front of her instead of the parchment between her fingers. Her blue manicured nails brushed against the starch-white paper, matching the font printed on the front that spelled out her name. Or at the very least the shortened version of it.
No address. No postage mark. Only 'Romana' printed in scripted hand writing across the very center.
Within the contents of the envelope was a single slip of paper. Upon which a very simple but elegant invitation to a wedding was printed. It was to be a joyous occasion in uniting an old friend with his mate of three years. A significant amount of time being romantically devoted to one person by human standards and yet it was hardly a second in comparison for her own kind. That is when the rare occurrence that a love was even recognized to start. They were far to busy with their noses in data and rules to give such a fleeting notion any thought at all.
The edge of the envelope tapped against her chin once, twice, three times before she opened it again and pulled out the parchment inside. On the back, in hand writing she all too easily identified, she read the details once more, a ghost of a smile just faintly touching her lips.
From behind she heard the door slide open and footsteps tread inside the walls of her office. The guard - Ramtantes, if she remembered correctly - bowed to her respectfully. "My Lady President, I was sent to escort you to the scheduled meeting with other Temporal Powers. They are waiting for you as we speak."
What smile had been was no longer there. In it's place the well-practiced calm mannerisms took over.
There was to be another meeting coordinated by the High Council. Or to be more precise, a conference held in one of the more private halls with her and a select few. Between the Archetryx disaster and the Civil War hardly any of the rulers of the other Temporal Powers dared to set foot - a term used most loosely - upon Gallifreyan soil. Instead, holographic projections were relayed in the hall, allowing them to speak. There had been one already not even two days previous to discuss the matters about the Monans and their apparent 'advancement' in time traveling technology. It had not been out of respect for a fellow Temporal race did the Time Lords extend an invitation to discuss this. It was out of sheer ego that they went through with this. After all, the Time Lords were the so-called masters of time.
A bunch of pompous foolery in her opinion.
"I will be out there shortly. I'm certain they can wait one more moment," Romana said to the guard, still holding the small piece of paper. "I have one matter of business to attend."
Romana detected a hint of uncertainty, the hesitation in lifting his head from the standstill bow. She could only assume that the Council sent for her personally despite the fact she had made it perfectly clear that Leela always accompanied her. While the young woman still did not understand the complicated politics that dictated Romana's life, nor did she ever wish to, it was Leela that somehow managed to keep her level-headed. There was someone outside of her race that seemed to have more wisdom at times than any text found in the Panopticon archives.
Nor would she hold back her tongue when it came to criticizing her.
The expected, "Yes, Madame," was finally heard and there was a moment of silence as she watched him take his leave. Not even a split second after the door had sealed did Romana look to the window again, the sunlight glinting off the TARDIS key that hung from a cord around her neck. Her thumb and index finger rubbed the cool metal, feeling the engraved markings on it.
When another moment of nothing but silence came to pass she finally sighed. Her mind was filled with racing thoughts as it always was. Both the envelope and slip of paper were set down upon her desk before she crossed the room to the door, talking to herself softly, a touch of sorrowful humor in her tone.
"A few minutes... A Time Lord is not a master of time, let alone of their own. "
The familiar click of the door closing behind came as the President disappeared into the hallway. In the now silent office the letter remained, the hand-written note face-up to be seen.
Character: Romanadvoratrelundar II
Series: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,002
Prompt: 110.2.B "Time is not a line, but a series of now-points."- Taisen Deshimaru
No address. No postage mark. Only 'Romana' printed in scripted hand writing across the very center.
Within the contents of the envelope was a single slip of paper. Upon which a very simple but elegant invitation to a wedding was printed. It was to be a joyous occasion in uniting an old friend with his mate of three years. A significant amount of time being romantically devoted to one person by human standards and yet it was hardly a second in comparison for her own kind. That is when the rare occurrence that a love was even recognized to start. They were far to busy with their noses in data and rules to give such a fleeting notion any thought at all.
The edge of the envelope tapped against her chin once, twice, three times before she opened it again and pulled out the parchment inside. On the back, in hand writing she all too easily identified, she read the details once more, a ghost of a smile just faintly touching her lips.
From behind she heard the door slide open and footsteps tread inside the walls of her office. The guard - Ramtantes, if she remembered correctly - bowed to her respectfully. "My Lady President, I was sent to escort you to the scheduled meeting with other Temporal Powers. They are waiting for you as we speak."
What smile had been was no longer there. In it's place the well-practiced calm mannerisms took over.
There was to be another meeting coordinated by the High Council. Or to be more precise, a conference held in one of the more private halls with her and a select few. Between the Archetryx disaster and the Civil War hardly any of the rulers of the other Temporal Powers dared to set foot - a term used most loosely - upon Gallifreyan soil. Instead, holographic projections were relayed in the hall, allowing them to speak. There had been one already not even two days previous to discuss the matters about the Monans and their apparent 'advancement' in time traveling technology. It had not been out of respect for a fellow Temporal race did the Time Lords extend an invitation to discuss this. It was out of sheer ego that they went through with this. After all, the Time Lords were the so-called masters of time.
A bunch of pompous foolery in her opinion.
"I will be out there shortly. I'm certain they can wait one more moment," Romana said to the guard, still holding the small piece of paper. "I have one matter of business to attend."
Romana detected a hint of uncertainty, the hesitation in lifting his head from the standstill bow. She could only assume that the Council sent for her personally despite the fact she had made it perfectly clear that Leela always accompanied her. While the young woman still did not understand the complicated politics that dictated Romana's life, nor did she ever wish to, it was Leela that somehow managed to keep her level-headed. There was someone outside of her race that seemed to have more wisdom at times than any text found in the Panopticon archives.
Nor would she hold back her tongue when it came to criticizing her.
The expected, "Yes, Madame," was finally heard and there was a moment of silence as she watched him take his leave. Not even a split second after the door had sealed did Romana look to the window again, the sunlight glinting off the TARDIS key that hung from a cord around her neck. Her thumb and index finger rubbed the cool metal, feeling the engraved markings on it.
When another moment of nothing but silence came to pass she finally sighed. Her mind was filled with racing thoughts as it always was. Both the envelope and slip of paper were set down upon her desk before she crossed the room to the door, talking to herself softly, a touch of sorrowful humor in her tone.
"A few minutes... A Time Lord is not a master of time, let alone of their own. "
The familiar click of the door closing behind came as the President disappeared into the hallway. In the now silent office the letter remained, the hand-written note face-up to be seen.
- 'Romana,
I know this letter will find you with no trouble. Not that you'll ever admit to it but you can be predictable. Even when we aren't meeting at an arranged time you still come to the same old cafe when no one is around. I'm thinking that bit rubbed off from him onto you!
Anyway, I know that being a Time Lord and all probably has you up to your neck in work keeping the Universe in line and all that nonsense, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would pop on by for even just a few minutes. I've told you about Elizabeth before and I've told her of you. She really would like to meet you and, well, it would be a first to get a visit from you when it wasn't the dead of night while breaking into a locked cafe.
I've added in the place where the wedding is going to be held. You don't need to RSVP or anything like that. Just show up if you can.
Take care of yourself, Romana. I don't care what you say about you Time Lords and living multiple lives - even you can get tired and ill.
Your old friend,
Duggan
P.S. - Just to be sure I've already marked you down as bringing a plus one to the event.
P.P.S. - And, yes, I will drink from a glass. You can stop making jokes at my expense about that now.'
Character: Romanadvoratrelundar II
Series: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,002
Prompt: 110.2.B "Time is not a line, but a series of now-points."- Taisen Deshimaru