Whotopia 1.9.3 - Keep On Dancing While The Walls Fall Down
Prompt: "Moderate strength is shown in violence, supreme strength is shown in levity." G.K. Chesterton - The Man Who Was Thursday
He's smiling
It's the biggest smile he's worn in ages, far too long really, and he can't wipe it from his face. He wants to do more, to dance, to laugh, to move because he's simply standing here and that isn't doing anything for him.
The TARDIS controls are the ones who have to suffer though, being flipped and switched and pulled until they were moving far faster than they ever should be. He's tearing through the Vortex and loving every moment of it because it felt right to run, felt good to feel her shake beneath his grasp.
There's nowhere to run to though, no corner of the universe that remained untouched. He knows that and even in his laughter he can't forget. He wants to find a place, a simple, safe place but he doens't, instead he keeps moving, the TARDIS warning him that things are going too quickly, there's too much pressure and they were in danger.
But really, how long has it been since they've not been in danger?
Soon though, he finds that not even the TARDIS is moving fast enough, and his feet begin to carry him all around the console room, dancing and spinning as he laughs, arms outstretched as far as they can go. There's nothing freeing, nothing liberating about what he's doing but he does it anyway because it's simply better than standing there.
But the TARDIS slows, as does he, and when she finally comes to a stop, he falls to the ground, laughter having long ago bled into sobs.
They exist there together, the last of the Time Lords and his faithful ship, spinning silently amidst the dust of a place they once called home.
Muse: The Eighth Doctor
Word Count: 289
Journal Link
He's smiling
It's the biggest smile he's worn in ages, far too long really, and he can't wipe it from his face. He wants to do more, to dance, to laugh, to move because he's simply standing here and that isn't doing anything for him.
The TARDIS controls are the ones who have to suffer though, being flipped and switched and pulled until they were moving far faster than they ever should be. He's tearing through the Vortex and loving every moment of it because it felt right to run, felt good to feel her shake beneath his grasp.
There's nowhere to run to though, no corner of the universe that remained untouched. He knows that and even in his laughter he can't forget. He wants to find a place, a simple, safe place but he doens't, instead he keeps moving, the TARDIS warning him that things are going too quickly, there's too much pressure and they were in danger.
But really, how long has it been since they've not been in danger?
Soon though, he finds that not even the TARDIS is moving fast enough, and his feet begin to carry him all around the console room, dancing and spinning as he laughs, arms outstretched as far as they can go. There's nothing freeing, nothing liberating about what he's doing but he does it anyway because it's simply better than standing there.
But the TARDIS slows, as does he, and when she finally comes to a stop, he falls to the ground, laughter having long ago bled into sobs.
They exist there together, the last of the Time Lords and his faithful ship, spinning silently amidst the dust of a place they once called home.
Muse: The Eighth Doctor
Word Count: 289
Journal Link