addressing Arcalian, first meeting. New Gallifrey.
We are on New Gallifrey, gathered around the table in a circle, all of us wearing Arcalian Green. Though the table possesses no head, still all eyes are focused on the Lord Cardinal Oolon, called The Sputnik. He asks for introductions, and one by one, we attempt to condense the centuries we’ve lived and what they’ve done to us into a handful of words. We all speak, and then it comes to be my turn…
found out by the TARDIS Press!
A peaceful morning cuppa…
Enjoying the Morning Aethernet o’er Irish Breakfast (with feyrie additives) tea
… is interruped by a shock! A discovery that The Press has found my private journal!
So shocked I nearly swallowed my new cog piercing!!
The Banshee stalks about, storming angrily! Hair and glances flung all round!
Who found the hiding place of my sekrit journal?! Now the press speaks of it! Scandalous.
Yeh! Did ~you~ tell them of the tree stump where I hide my journal?!
Holds up the aethernet to you, rustling the pages:
~~ TARDIS Newsroom ~~
PICK OF THE BLOGS: in the Darkling Grove, listening with the trees
(near the bottom)
Darkling Stalks a Dalek
A terrible beast, like a giant malicious pepperpot, wanders aimlessly around the great marble hall, the sounds of its’ wheels echoing on the high ceiling. It makes no reaction as the tall pillar wheezes and grinds its’ way into existence in the center of the room. The young Lady steps out, looking lighthearted until she lays eyes on the metal beast. Her whole body startles at the sight, and, alarmed, she flings herself back behind the pillar. With comedic slowness, she peeks around the other side of the pillar, one long purple ringlet falling between her eyes.
Granted Right of Tardis
She steps out from behind a tree mismatched to this forest, then startles as she sees you. As the Lady drops her gaze, flushes and fidgets nervously, you realize you have caught her at… something? But at what? The sight of an aristocratic banshee stepping away from a tree in the midst of this tangled wood should not be strange, but expected…
Ahhh… and then, as the twitterings of the birds quieten for a moment, you hear that soft hum, not from lips but from a Machine. It is subtle, but you are sure you hear it… strangely soothing, but unmistakably, it is Teknology!
She murmurs a greeting… then, with exaggerated languor, stretches her arm out to something on the other side of the tree’s trunk, something you cannot see… there is the unlikely sound of a door slamming shut, then the hum is gone.
Oh! ehm… well, hallo there. Beautiful day, is it not…?
She feigns innocence and looks up at the leafy canopy arching overhead, at the sky… then sees that your gaze is still lingering on the tree beside her, whose branches are just a bit too still, whose leaves a bit too shiny. The Lady sighs, pulling a couple of leaves from her hair as she contemplates your face. She comes to a decision… then breaks into a smile, her eyes sparkling in delight. The Banshee steps closer to you, and speaks in hushed, conspiratorial tones…
a trip to 21st century California
You have heard this sound before, this mechanical wheezing, this strange cosmic grinding. This sound is the herald of adventure. No one notices as the kiosk advertising flights to tropical climes fades into view, as the sound reaches its’ climax. It quietens with a thunk, as if Time and Reality have slotted heavily into place.
A youngish-looking woman with long purple hair steps from behind it, dressed in watery green silks and pulling a large suitcase behind her. It takes you a few moments to recognize the Muse; she has made great efforts with her appearance to blend in to her surroundings, just as her strange transport has done.
As she falls into step behind a group of brightly-clad vacationers, she pulls a small device out of her luggage. For a moment, she forgets herself, and holds it like a book. Then she seems to remember what it is, and holds it to her ear.
She speaks into it quietly, with a drowsy satisfied smile as she walks past windows showing great jet aeroplanes.
If you were standing close to her, this is what you would hear…
… and then-
Well. I did land eventually.
I flew across time and space, chaos and control. It was quite a reasonable madness, to fly in the face of what I thought was prophecy. To save the life of one mortal man, my favorite of them all: my darling husband.
He’d been exploring in distant lands, not that distance means much of anything to someone so ridiculously magikal as myself. I’d tried to escape facing Fate… not that Fate meant anything to one so fundamentally rebellious as myself.
So what if the cards always came up Death for him? So what if the stars said he wouldn’t survive me? I had to try.
“What are you doing here, sweetie?” He said, when I landed in a flurry of dark feathers. “I am glad to see you, but truly… I can fight off this angry tribe of pygmies with my boot knife, quite on my own.”
“That may well be,” I replied, kicking one machete-wielding screamer into a nearby thornbush, “but wouldn’t you rather let me fly you to your zeppelin and tend your wounds?”
Of course he said yes.
