Status: Time Lords live too long.
Fire and Ice and Rage
1/1
Anger. That’s what he feels. A hot flash of it pumping through his hearts and boiling in his blood. He’s felt anger before; such a familiar and constant feeling but rarely ever heightened to this level.
A red fog clouding his brain prevents him from thinking clearly, not that it wasn’t hard before. Self-loathing and hatred and rage consume the thoughts he does manage to string together from the floating shards.
Fire
Sadness. A feeling he equates to what he imagines losing both hearts for the final time would feel like. Hollowness, an empty, echoing cavern. They’re both gone. She’s gone, and he must learn to deal with that. He must or it will destroy him.
It’s already destroyed him.
Ice
Loss is not unfamiliar. He remembers the feeling of losing the yellow-haired girl who worked in a shop that managed to make him better. He can remember the dark-skinned Shakespearean doctor, not so unlike himself, who left because she deserved better than him. The fiery temp with flaming hair who set him straight when his mind had grown blurry and incoherent, and ended up becoming his best friend in the process. He’d been able to prepare for losing them. There’d been a little bit of warning, though brief.
He saw them coming. He saw everything coming. Sometimes he thinks Time Lords live too long.
Nothing could have prepared him for the loss of her, though. Absolutely nothing felt as horrible as the loss of the girl with the fairy-tale name and her Centurion prince. He’d watched her grow up, he’s told her stories and brought her to places that can only be described as magical. Ten years for her, hundreds for him, and thousands for the Centurion that accompanies her as they roam the universe.
Rage
He’s hurt too many wonderful people in the long time he’s been alive. People who romanticize the thought of him and would do absolutely anything for him, and die in the process. They get hurt or lost, with only the words I’m sorry chasing after them in a hurried attempt to try to make it all better.
Nothing can make this better.
He won’t hurt another person again. No one will ever get hurt on his behalf anymore, not if he can help it. He was much better off as a mad man in a blue box.
That’s what he’ll return to. A very mad, very sad man hurtling through time and space in a blue box.
Alone.
A red fog clouding his brain prevents him from thinking clearly, not that it wasn’t hard before. Self-loathing and hatred and rage consume the thoughts he does manage to string together from the floating shards.
Fire
Sadness. A feeling he equates to what he imagines losing both hearts for the final time would feel like. Hollowness, an empty, echoing cavern. They’re both gone. She’s gone, and he must learn to deal with that. He must or it will destroy him.
It’s already destroyed him.
Ice
Loss is not unfamiliar. He remembers the feeling of losing the yellow-haired girl who worked in a shop that managed to make him better. He can remember the dark-skinned Shakespearean doctor, not so unlike himself, who left because she deserved better than him. The fiery temp with flaming hair who set him straight when his mind had grown blurry and incoherent, and ended up becoming his best friend in the process. He’d been able to prepare for losing them. There’d been a little bit of warning, though brief.
He saw them coming. He saw everything coming. Sometimes he thinks Time Lords live too long.
Nothing could have prepared him for the loss of her, though. Absolutely nothing felt as horrible as the loss of the girl with the fairy-tale name and her Centurion prince. He’d watched her grow up, he’s told her stories and brought her to places that can only be described as magical. Ten years for her, hundreds for him, and thousands for the Centurion that accompanies her as they roam the universe.
Rage
He’s hurt too many wonderful people in the long time he’s been alive. People who romanticize the thought of him and would do absolutely anything for him, and die in the process. They get hurt or lost, with only the words I’m sorry chasing after them in a hurried attempt to try to make it all better.
Nothing can make this better.
He won’t hurt another person again. No one will ever get hurt on his behalf anymore, not if he can help it. He was much better off as a mad man in a blue box.
That’s what he’ll return to. A very mad, very sad man hurtling through time and space in a blue box.
Alone.
♠ ♠ ♠
I got bored. meh.