Rubbing Eyes

For his_sarah_jane

He was not having a particuarly good day.

After falling out of a tree, hurting his ankle, working on the TARDIS for more hours than he cared to think about and achieving absolutely nothing save several burns on his hands, arms, and bizarrely, his face, he was ready for a cup of tea.

Well, tea and a chocolate chip muffin. As there appeared to be a bit of shortage of chocolate chip muffins, however, he soon elected to abandon that particular craving.

He did have a rather unusual craving for cream, which was odd, as he was more of a milk person himself, on the rare occasion he felt like putting anything other than sugar in at all. There was no logical reason for the sudden need for cream, and if asked to explain it he would most likely, retrospecively, blame it on the already odd, not particuarly pleasant day.

The open refrigerator revealed to him the sad, sad truth of his current situation. There was, in fact, no cream. They had never actually managed to decide whose job it was to go out and get it, and thus, it remained completely and utterly empty.

Say what now?

Belated Intro is Belated

He blinked.

Then he blinked again.

And then feeling that this situation and the hallucination he was currently receiving required a real, good, thorough blink, he blinked a third time, and did it very really, very goodly, and very, very thoroughly.

Nothing changed.

A few rubs to the eyes did nothing. A few whacks to the head only gave him a headache. Or rather, it made his headache worse. And also gave him shooting pains all the way from behind his right eye, down to the tip of his left arm.

That probably wasn't good. It fitted in well, then, with the plenty of 'not good' things he was currently completely surrounded by.

The field he was staring at in wide-eyed shock and bewilderment was littered with literally dozens of different TARDIS that did not fade from his vision despite his many efforts to make them do so. They stood like proud dictators that were oppressing their way into existence, or it certainly seemed that way to him, considering they were all, of course, utterly impossible and couldn't possibly be existing without forcing themselves to be so.

He glanced at the sky. That was impossible too. Unless every zeppelin in a certain radius suddenly decided to spontaneously crash land.

He scratched his head.

"This is bad, right?"
Pink by phoulish_icons

Coming Home - Open

Though she had battled against the concept of driving lessons, even entering into complicated negotiations just to agree to them -- Reinette was not forced to admit that she could see their benefit. After a months of stops, starts and stalls she was more than capable of maneuvering the surrounding roads. Which was what she did, one morning. Without any warning and only a letter indicating her intention. Though she imagined he would grumble -- no, she knew he would. She also knew that he understood more than most the clawing, suffocating feeling of being trapped. Of forced idleness.

And Reinette had been far too idle, far too long. She was one of the first, after all. The group, forced to watch as the Universe dissipated and disappeared around them. Simply gone. Lost. Leaving them forced to wonder what might have been done differently.

For a fortnight she traveled by the only means allowed to them still. With each and every TARDIS silent, answers took even longer now. Oxford. Cambridge. Local new organizations and any and every expert that deemed to see her in the fields of geology, astronomy. Even archeology. File after file, frustration after frustration.

It was true then.

Loss remains with us. We feel it. The Earth feels it.

Weather patterns shifting, the sky weeping like rain. Orbits accounting for what was gone. And while it was still subtle enough that it was not being covered naturally. Those that truly watched, knew.

This was not something that would get better.

Fifteen days after her departure Reinette returned home. Mentally she was still startled how she considered it such. Though it was a clear indicator of why the events frustrated her as they did. She was invested now. Perhaps to an unhealthy degree. The TARDIS seemed empty as she slipped inside, shrugging out of her jacket so that only that wheat colored pants and narrow-cut vest remained. The ivory silk of the shirt beneath proof that while she did not always understand current fashions, she could wield them to her benefit. The gathered files were left in the library, a glass of wine sipped in hopes of calming her nerves.

It did not work.

Without really recognizing the events that took her there, a moment later Reinette was staring at the broken shards of her glass in the fireplace. Another witness to her frustration. Her husband would not speak of it. Or he might. She would deal with it later.

Needed air, Reinette stepped outside, the watercolor milkiness of dusk enveloping her.
Owen default
  • imatwat

For tea_wifout_milk: Bittersweet Reunions

(Continued from HERE. Backdated to before Owen's broadcasted message.)

Owen ushered Katie upstairs to his room, and gently closed the door behind him. He'd made her take her cup of tea up with her, hoping it would help serve to calm her down and give him a minute or two to think, to formulate some kind of story that would explain what had happened to her.

It was too much, though. Hard enough for him to process, let alone what it must feel like for Katie.

He steered her towards his bed for her to sit down on. Then sat beside her.

"Feeling better?" He asked tentatively, stalling as much as he could. He knew she'd have thousands of questions and he wasn't sure what answers he could give in return.
Owen default
  • imatwat

Communicator Message [Open to everyone but Katie]

Listen up. This is important. My ex-fiancee Katie Russell has been pulled through to this world, into this universe and somehow found herself here at Sarah Jane's.

She doesn't know anything about aliens, or parallel universes, or different timelines, or that I was a part of Torchwood and all that rigmarole. She thinks we're still engaged.

Do NOT talk to her about the above. It will only confuse the fuck out of her. She's going through a lot of shit right now, and has a terminal illness.

Give me time to slowly bring her up to speed.

That's all I'm asking.
proud, warrior

Knife Practise [Open]

Leela of the Sevateem was not the sort of person to sit and do nothing. Indolence did not suit her, and her new ‘home’ on Earth did not seem to suit her either. She wanted to be doing something. She wanted to help!

(She also wanted someone to explain to her exactly what was going on. There was a field of TARDISes, but no sign of the Doctor yet? Planets and stars had disappeared from the sky? It did not make sense! And where was Romana? Why had the people who had brought her here not brought the President as well? Surely she would be much more useful if the universe truly was ending?)

Stepping out into the garden, Leela sniffed the air. It was not fresh air. The humans who lived in this city spewed out pollutants at a ridiculous rate. Did they not feel nature suffering around them? Perhaps they did not care.

There were several small throwing knives, recently acquired from a dusty box in the attic, tucked into her belt. Their balance was not perfect, but they sat well enough in her hand, and Leela expected she would be able to hit her target – a tree on the other side of the garden – every time.

“I will find out what is happening here,” she vowed in a low voice, before launching her first knife and spearing a leaf.
Vote Saxon

[[open]] Reporters are coming!

((Backdated to when Jenny first arrived. >_> ))

Saxon straightened his tie and checked his hair briefly in a car's side view mirror. He looked around at the various reporters milling around looking at the space shuttle that landed on Bannerman Lane. He'd stationed police men around it to make sure they didn't get to close, for their safety, of course.

A few hours ago he had been called by the media about the appearance of the craft. An "anonymous" source alerted them to its appearance and they wanted his opinion on the matter. Being a good Prime Minister, he was going to give it to them. Or perhaps it was a bad Prime Minister because he wasn't hiding the truth. He shrugged, not caring and walked up to the small speaking area that they'd provided for him.

He cleared his throat and held open his arms. "What you see here, before you, is not a government experiment. Not from any sort of government at all."

The reporters clamored loudly tossing out questions.

"Let me speak!" the Master declared. They fell silent. He hid a smile. "It is yet another piece of growing evidence that there are aliens among us. Aliens who are massing to do us harm. They have seen our world and its resources and have desired her! The stars are no longer as they are! Our world is under attack," and he paused here, to give them a worried and yet determined look. "Our world is under attack, but I assure you, that we will not go quietly. I will not let us go quietly.

"I will put all our resources into finding these aliens, finding and capturing them so that they will no longer threaten us. We will show them that we are not to be trifled with!"

He took a breath. "Now then, any questions?"

The Doctor emerges

After a few weeks of being trapped on Earth again, the Doctor had given up trying to fix the TARDIS and retreated into the depths of the TARDIS to brood. It hadn't been all that long ago that he had be trapped on Earth and he found the thought of being stuck here again depressing.

But there were only so many books he could read and so much tinkering he could do before he longed for fresh air and someone to talk to.

He'd given no thought to his companions, and he wasn't even sure if they had stayed in the TARDIS or wandered off to other Doctors. Sarah had, before he'd given up. And to the skinny one with the bad haircut. He still wasn't sure what she could possibly see in him, except that it was him, so he must have some good qualities. At least she hadn't chosen to abscond with the hobo.

The Doctor planted an umbrella in the ground in front of his TARDIS and spread out a blanket before settling down. Someone would come along to talk. This garden was like Paddington Station at the best of times these days.
Harry and a rock

Open post

Harry was systematically working his way through all of Sarah's possessions, trying to find out what had happened between the time he last was and now. Knowing future world events might be helpful when he got back - if he got back. But more than that, he wanted to find out how the Sarah from this time came to be in the position she now was, where she was, and what had happened to himself in the meantime. He still wasn't sure if he would meet himself from a few years in the future. He didn't entirely like that idea.

However, he was not about to go looking in anything private of Sarah's, so he kept to the things on the bookshelves. There weren't that many in the lounge, but that just meant he would finish faster.

As he put a book out, it seemed stuck somehow. So he pulled just a little harder and the next thing he knew books rained down on him.

OOC: Specially for Anna and Katie since they miss Harry so much :) But also for anyone else too
♌ and it all comes down to you

Back to the Hub {Torchwood}

Gwen ducked into the Hub, shying away from the rolling doorway. She had a slight headache and was mostly exhausted, but this was metered by her happiness at being off the train and back in her city.

Although, she would much rather be at home with Rhys, but more pressing matters called her to work straight away.

"Ianto?" She shouted, dropping her jacket over the back of the chair. "Ianto, hello, anyone here?"