rude_not_ginger | for magicalskeptic: A trip to the ocean

"Well, people on this world don't function by schedules," he says. "It's more of a matter of when they want to, when they don't want to. There's no difference between the twin suns and the days are only about five hours long. The only difference in time is the planetary shift to winter. Which is, as I said, when things go a bit wonky about here. But we should be at least four, maybe five days away from winter, so we're good."

He hops after her, stuffing his hands back into his pocket. "People on other worlds that think in ways far beyond what you know. It's brilliant, isn't it?"

"Doctor," She's still not looking at him. She's a bit mesmerized by the colour of the sea. "If everyone only ever did things when they wanted to. Nothing would ever be done properly."

She pauses for a minute and kneels to the ground, tentatively touching the bright, white earth, trying to figure out what makes it sparkle. She takes a little of it in her hand. It does not feel like dirt, more like crystalline sand.

"When I went to the Western Sea with my father. I took a handful of sand and wrapped it in a kerchief, to take home, with a few pebbles. My nurse laughed at me. My father did not." She's talking as she rubs a finger over the strange earth in her other hand, tying to work out what it's made of.

"Nothing wrong with wanting a token to remember the places you've been to. That's why people paint pictures, they write sonnets, they collect shells. They want to remember the world they've seen," the Doctor says.

He shrugs a little. "Me, I always just find myself coming back. See what it's like with my own eyes."

He looks out to the horizon and points. "There's an outlook over there. Can probably get a better view of the sea from it."

Morgana composes herself a little. That was a lot to share with the Doctor, even if it was just a vignette from an event she's already told him about. She looks at him a moment, wondering why she would do such a thing.

And, since no one is around to judge her for the question. "Is it not possible to touch the sea?" There's the idea of touching a purple sea that is just so appealing.

He looks out to the water. "The acid content is a little stronger than seawater, but not that much stronger than vinegar," he says. But the summer is usually the touristy time of year, and plenty of humans swim in this sea.

Funny, he expected this part of the world to be littered with people during this season, but the Doctor and Morgana are the only ones. Must be some sort of holiday.

He gives the water a nod, then gives her a smile. "Oh, go on, then. Kick off your shoes, you could probably even wade a bit."

Brushing the white earth off her hands, Morgana stands back up. She's in her summer walking shoes, so she slips them off, leaving them neatly out of harm's way and makes her way down to the sea - stopping at the water's edge.

It is even more purple up close, a colour she did not know would exist in nature.

She looks at the deserted beach. "Why are we alone?"

It is the mid-afternoon and the breeze is warm. This would be an ideal day to be outside.

She takes another step towards the water.

"Dunno," the Doctor says, kneeling down and unlacing his trainers. He tugs them and his four pairs of socks off and pads barefoot towards the water, too. "Holiday, maybe? Some sort of celebration in town?"

He has a funny suspicion that's not what it is, but he's trying very hard to ignore it. It's altogether far too quiet out here. It would be peaceful, he supposes, if it didn't make his hair stand on end.

If there's one thing Morgana isn't, it's a coward, so when she takes another step forward, it's directly into the water. Even though she's holding her dress, just high enough to keep from getting wet, a little trails into the receding wave, but just like the water she is used to, it doesn't leave any purple stain.

"The water is selfish," she muses fancifully. "Keeps its colour to itself."

Since there isn't a concern about ruining her dress, she releases it, and leans over, both her hands skimming the top to the tiny wave that comes in next.

Edited 2010-06-14 23:13 (UTC)

The Doctor steps into the water himself. It's warm against his skin, and he smiles at the way the sand feels beneath his toes. He looks up to the waves, and then to his unlikely companion.

This is what he loves most about travel. It's not just the places, it's not just the extraordinary sights, it's seeing the people he travels with marvel at them. Sometimes he thinks he's too old, he's forgotten what it's like to love travel, but he can experience it vicariously through them.

"Not bad, eh?"

For just half a second, there is the insane desire to splash him. He sounds rather chuffed with himself, and she is feeling rather -- silly would not be the word she would use, but yet it would be true.

Instead, Morgana stands back up and looks at him. "This is magnificent." In the internal battle not to stroke his ego, and the truth of the matter, like her flash of silliness, the truth won.

"I cannot understand why no one would be out to enjoy this."

He's immensely pleased with himself. He'd been switching between a few different oceans to take her to, and this one won out. Excellent choice, Doctor. Bravo.

"I don't know," the Doctor says. "We should ask them, I think."

He starts off through the water towards the outlook, eventually hopping up on the warm sand when the ground raises up out of the water towards a small cliff.

"Ask them?" Morgana's still adjusting to purple water. She's not entirely sure the locals are good to meet yet.

On the other hand, the Doctor wants to ask where everyone is. More so, he's so curious he's tracking them down, hence there is only one conclusion.

Moving a a bit faster through the water than him -- the splash doesn't bother her, water dries -- to catch up.

"Doctor," she says when she does reach him, "What is wrong here?"

This is the Doctor. She automatically assumes something's gone wrong.

"You get that feeling too?" the Doctor asks, because clearly that's what her implication is. He keeps his shoes in his hands and heads up the edge of the cliff.

Once over the rise, the city comes into view. It's crystalline, dark towers that shine with the sparkling sand. The spires twist up to dark red points. It would look ominous, if the Doctor wasn't so sure they were utterly peaceful. Except...

"What is that?" he asks, pointing to a plume of red smoke coming from the center of the city. "That's not right."

The Doctor can keep believing that all he wants, there isn't the time to correct him. "What burns like that?"

Her shoes, sadly, are a little way off, and she eyes them, warily.

"I don't know," the Doctor says. "We should find out."

He drops to put on his shoes and notices, for the first time, that she's still barefoot.

"Better go grab those," he says. "I don't remember what the streets of the city are made of."

Morgana's not one to question this. If something is burning, usually, there is a hand to be offered.

It takes her a moment to gather her things and rejoin the Doctor. She doesn't take the time to clean off her feet, so there's that uncomfortable feeling of sand in one's shoes, that she chooses to ignore.

The Doctor stuffs his socks into his pocket just as she's rejoined him. He's only had enough time to put back on two pairs, so his feet feel uncomfortably bare in his trainers.

"Right! Off we go, then."

He gives her a smile, then turns and starts running towards the city.

Walking is, naturally, overrated.

He gets a head start before Morgana starts after him. Unlike what most would suspect of a medieval lady, she's neither weak, nor slow. Nor does she fall into the cliche of not being able to run in her dress.

She does though, wish she had on fencing clothes.

The closer she gets to the plume of smoke, the more unnatural it feels and something smells oddly -- familiar, and she stops short.

"Doctor, that smell. It's like a smithy's workshop."

He stops and inhales. "I suppose it does a bit," he says. "Cooling metal, boiling water. What for, though? And how? And why here? There aren't any precious metals on this planet!"

This close, the Doctor's decided walking might be better, getting a closer look before he goes charging in. "For all we know, this could be perfectly natural," he says.

Which is, of course, when a scream pierces the silence.

The Doctor may be stopping, but the scream spurs Morgana into action. She may not know the city, but she's picked up the general direction of whatever, whoever is screaming from the echoes.

She doesn't even think to check if the Doctor is following. She stops in the middle of a cross-street. The city reminds her more of the architecture of elsewhere than Camelot. She is sure the scream came from this side street, but cannot see a soul.

"Morgana, wait!"

But it's too late, and she's off. The Doctor bolts after her, but she's a lot quicker than he expected, and he ends up a few steps behind no matter which direction she runs. When she stops, he skids behind her, barely braking himself before he runs into her back.

"We haven't had the Talk yet," he says. "But rule one, Morgana, is---"

There's another scream and it sounds like it's coming from right around where they're standing.

Morgana holds up her hand when the Doctor starts talking. She's trying to listen, can't he see that. She's too busy concentrating to even chastise him for standing too close.

"Do you hear that?"

Someone is whispering.

"No," the Doctor says. He leans down to where her head is, but the only thing he can hear is the sound of the ocean in the distance.

"Hear what? What do you hear?"

Well, now that is just annoying. How can the Doctor not hear?

"Doctor, listen. Someone is hurt."

There's another scream and it makes her jump.

The Doctor strains his ears.

"That's not someone hurt, that's---that's a TARDIS taking off," he says. Without considering the implications, he darts towards the noise. A TARDIS could mean anything. It could mean something brilliant, it could mean something horrible. It could mean---

He stops. "Wait. How could it be a TARDIS? I would know."

for magicalskeptic: A trip to the ocean

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