WIP Meme
WIP Meme
Some works in progress -
He and Shaya were picking their way down the ridgeline when he heard the high pitched sound of a woman screaming in the distance. Rami threw himself behind a pile of rocks, clutching his Kalashnikov in wincing anticipation of gunfire. There was only the thin, breathless shriek as he pulled his battered binoculars out from under his coat and searched the valley floor below. The cries made it easy to find her, a woman in a dusty blue chadri, hauled immodestly above her knees as she ran flat out across the valley floor.
"Megan," Naz approached to look at the top of her head and her deft hands. The equipment spread on her tables all had labels now; blue for hir, red for human. Next time, Megan promised, Naz would not risk an allergic reaction to the wound kit. Naz appreciated that the poisoning had been accidental. "How common is suicide among humans?"
"Jack," Ianto panted on his knees in a muddy puddle, struggling to tie up a weevil before it woke up and rubbing his nose in a surge of annoyance. "You can't find time to wash your trousers and you're wearing cologne?"
Jack's hands stilled for a moment. "I'm not wearing cologne."
I've never been off planet, you know," she shuddered, ruffles fluttering. "I don't think I could, I'm not brave enough, not like our hero." She beamed at Alonso then. Alonso's ears went red, as reliable as sunrise.
Jack managed to wedge in a smile while Daimead batted her pink tinted eyelashes at him before she rushed on, in her sweet, slightly breathless voice. "We were all so terrified when we heard about the Titanic -- it was all over the newscast, and oh, it was his first voyage ever -- and then we received the subspace notice from the Shadow Proclamation," Daimead's voice rose, suddenly sharp and clear, though her gaze never wavered from Jack's face, and he subtly scanned the crowd to see who it was she was really talking to.
A couple of transit inspectors were walking down past them, their green and gray uniforms seemed everywhere -- on the platforms, in the cars, checking IDs and helping people on and off the platforms. They were polite enough but far too many people hunched their shoulders or ducked their heads as they passed. Jack watched Munro tuck his face against little Alin's dark hair as, Jack realized, he'd done every other time inspectors had come near. It hid the gleaming silver of his cybernetics from easy view. Jack also realized now what hadn't seemed important before; everyone sorted out for special treatment in customs had been cyborgs of one type or another.
There was before and after. Before Jack had died and after he'd returned. Before the Doctor had saved Jack's life and after, when he realized the consequences. Before, when he couldn't feel Jack like a live wire in his mind and after, when he couldn't stop touching that presence, working it like a sore tooth. Jack wasn't Gallifreyan but, after the Gamestation, he rested at the edge of the Doctor's awareness like a distant light, faint, flickering but persistently there. He wanted to hold his hands out for it, to grasp at that alien awareness, but the Doctor was pretty sure that would be a bad idea.
Boredom was the worst. Boredom made the Doctor want to do things he shouldn't and the TARDIS wasn't the refuge it once was, with Jack on board. He prodded and poked at the TARDIS' vortex stabilization controls and prodded and poked at the little knot of jack-ness in his mind.
"Dammit!" Jack yelped, jerking up and banging his head on the console he was arms deep in, and glared. "Would you stop that!"
It was going around. Doing the meme allows me to avoid doing the work!
Please comment on Dreamwidth because it isn't run by the Russian Mob!
http://xtricks.dreamwidth.org/89281.html: link to the original post
Some works in progress -
He and Shaya were picking their way down the ridgeline when he heard the high pitched sound of a woman screaming in the distance. Rami threw himself behind a pile of rocks, clutching his Kalashnikov in wincing anticipation of gunfire. There was only the thin, breathless shriek as he pulled his battered binoculars out from under his coat and searched the valley floor below. The cries made it easy to find her, a woman in a dusty blue chadri, hauled immodestly above her knees as she ran flat out across the valley floor.
"Megan," Naz approached to look at the top of her head and her deft hands. The equipment spread on her tables all had labels now; blue for hir, red for human. Next time, Megan promised, Naz would not risk an allergic reaction to the wound kit. Naz appreciated that the poisoning had been accidental. "How common is suicide among humans?"
"Jack," Ianto panted on his knees in a muddy puddle, struggling to tie up a weevil before it woke up and rubbing his nose in a surge of annoyance. "You can't find time to wash your trousers and you're wearing cologne?"
Jack's hands stilled for a moment. "I'm not wearing cologne."
I've never been off planet, you know," she shuddered, ruffles fluttering. "I don't think I could, I'm not brave enough, not like our hero." She beamed at Alonso then. Alonso's ears went red, as reliable as sunrise.
Jack managed to wedge in a smile while Daimead batted her pink tinted eyelashes at him before she rushed on, in her sweet, slightly breathless voice. "We were all so terrified when we heard about the Titanic -- it was all over the newscast, and oh, it was his first voyage ever -- and then we received the subspace notice from the Shadow Proclamation," Daimead's voice rose, suddenly sharp and clear, though her gaze never wavered from Jack's face, and he subtly scanned the crowd to see who it was she was really talking to.
A couple of transit inspectors were walking down past them, their green and gray uniforms seemed everywhere -- on the platforms, in the cars, checking IDs and helping people on and off the platforms. They were polite enough but far too many people hunched their shoulders or ducked their heads as they passed. Jack watched Munro tuck his face against little Alin's dark hair as, Jack realized, he'd done every other time inspectors had come near. It hid the gleaming silver of his cybernetics from easy view. Jack also realized now what hadn't seemed important before; everyone sorted out for special treatment in customs had been cyborgs of one type or another.
There was before and after. Before Jack had died and after he'd returned. Before the Doctor had saved Jack's life and after, when he realized the consequences. Before, when he couldn't feel Jack like a live wire in his mind and after, when he couldn't stop touching that presence, working it like a sore tooth. Jack wasn't Gallifreyan but, after the Gamestation, he rested at the edge of the Doctor's awareness like a distant light, faint, flickering but persistently there. He wanted to hold his hands out for it, to grasp at that alien awareness, but the Doctor was pretty sure that would be a bad idea.
Boredom was the worst. Boredom made the Doctor want to do things he shouldn't and the TARDIS wasn't the refuge it once was, with Jack on board. He prodded and poked at the TARDIS' vortex stabilization controls and prodded and poked at the little knot of jack-ness in his mind.
"Dammit!" Jack yelped, jerking up and banging his head on the console he was arms deep in, and glared. "Would you stop that!"
It was going around. Doing the meme allows me to avoid doing the work!
Please comment on Dreamwidth because it isn't run by the Russian Mob!
http://xtricks.dreamwidth.org/89281.html: link to the original post