The chilly sunlight of late autumn lays pale across the patchwork quilt of the bed in Ears' room, and across his long, bare legs. Hair still wet from the shower, he srawls with one arm folded behind his head, turning the blue lump over and over in long fingers. The surface seems almost to iridesce, reflecting soft motes of morning light around ( Read more... )

At first, all Ears can hear is a rhythm. Four beats, the tiniest of pauses, another four, another pause, unending. He thinks it might be his hearts. It just goes on and on and on, a tremble through his entire body. There's no character to the sound, no hint other than its pattern. At first, there's nothing else at all ( Read more... )

Ears didn't know what happened. That last day went so, so fast. He'd been asleep, in his cell, and then a guard was jerking him down a hallway by the scruff of his neck before he could get his feet under himself. He's tried to ask them where he was going, but it'd been so long since he'd last spoken to anyone at all. The rasp he made startled ( Read more... )

It's the Gallifreyan influence on the Valiant that makes the cells so small and bland. White walls, rounded edges, circular windows in the doors, and no apparent locks or latches. Of course, they weren't cells on the blueprints. They were store rooms. But the locks are there, and with the addition of an awkward chair as a cot and a prisoner, ( Read more... )

Four months almost gave Ears cause to regret regaining his sense of the passing of time. He felt every moment, most of them spent lying, arms folded under his head, on his bed in the attic bedroom he'd claimed, the one at the other end from Horatio's. The urge to sleep all hours lessened day by day, though he still depended on Kate to remember to ( Read more... )

The Doctor known as Ears can't feel good about his situation.  It feels so intrinsically wrong, so deep in his gut and both his hearts, that any moments of peace as a vampire are hardwon and usually bloodsoaked, only coming when he has forced himself to forget himself.  More of himself.

The internal conflict is reaching Identity proportions.  If ( Read more... )

I can't get out of this dream.  My eyes shut, and it's there, and I'm beginning to wonder if that's real, that world, and this is my hallucination.

They burn.  Every time I dream they're burning, everyone.  And I can't stop laughing, I'm burning up with fever and I laugh and laugh and scream as they burn, as time burns, and I don't even know what ( Read more... )

I have two hearts.  I belong to a species called Gallifreyans.  I am in my ninth life, out of thirteen.

When I was young, my name was taken from me. By my own family, in shame.  In a thousand years, I never bothered to find a new one.

Theta Sigma fits uneasily, but it is a name.