Running comes easily. It's something he knows, something that's part of him, ever since he first learned to walk. Ever since he first looked into the Untempered Schism. He runs. He runs, and he runs well.

Except over swampy, boggy areas. He doesn't run quite so well there. He does try, of course.

"Run, Sally!" he calls back. And then loses his footing. And falls, face first, onto the wet ground.
chasingangels: (over shoulder)

From: [personal profile] chasingangels

"Bloody-", Sally began, angrily, sinking shin deep in muck half as many times as she took steps. The Doctor had her firmly by the hand, and when she stumbled, almost dragged her down as well. She planted her feet, swaying like Bambi on the ice before she could steady herself. She hauled him back up, somehow, panting.
chasingangels: (pout)

From: [personal profile] chasingangels

"Of course I did", Sally hissed irritably, "I do have eyes. Great big, black monster. Which...please tell me is an alien because all the other options I know of lead to worse situations."

She dragged her boot out of the mud with a wet sucking sound and pulled her her skirts out of the much.

"And you try running in a corset."
chasingangels: (windswept)

From: [personal profile] chasingangels

"Oh goody, and here I thought it was a sign of our imminent deaths", Sally drawled, dry enough to parch the atlantic, she peered off into the distance.

"Where the hell did you park?"


rude_not_ginger: (Default)
The Doctor

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