hell_in_highheels: (full moon)
It's still dark when she wakes, but dawn is already lightning the sky.  She dresses in long skirts, her favourite wool sweater, and her grey woollen shawl.  And her field boots.  The lakeside is rocky, and they're practical.

She makes her way down the stairs to the bar, not really surprised to see a others who are still awake from the previous evening's carousing.  She doesn't pause to socialise.  She makes her way out the back and down the path to the lakeside, her eyes on the tree line.  She walks the shore, rubbing her arms against the chill, putting more and more distance between herself and the bar.

This time it is she who is searching for him in the mist.

He told her not to come after him when the moon was up.  But it had set hours ago.  The sun was almost over the ridge. 
hell_in_highheels: (Default)
She started as soon as he left, working through the afternoon and into night.  Bar was very accommodating, and seemed to take a bit of enjoyment out of her list of possible ideas.

They started with the basic floor plan.  An open floor plan, doubling the size of the flat.  Ceilings pushed to twelve feet, harsh edges softened with a gentle organic line.  For the floors, a beautiful dark hardwood.   Hand hewn beams for the four massive columns (cover, not just concealment) that marked the corners of the living area, with the fireplace at the focal point.  Persian rugs in reds and golds, and a proper seating area, leather couches, overstuffed and deep.  A low table (more surfaces for books).

The picture window grew and curved outward to become a window seat big enough for both of them to stretch out in at the same time.  Curtains and cushions all a palette of dark greens, the walls in a warm ivory.  Art would come later, she thought.

A kitchen with a table and two chairs, ample counter space to cook.  She thinks about the fact that she hasn't cooked in ages, and how nice it would be to cook for the two of them.  And friends even.

In a smaller but still open alcove beyond the main room, she places a broader bed on a low heavy platform, also in dark wood.  Big enough for two people and a large dog.  The requested dressers on each side of the bed.  An oval free-standing long mirror .  A bathroom with two sinks, a shower and a large clawfoot tub (Are those wolf paws?) tucked into a niche.

Back in the main room, bookshelves along one wall.  She pondered that for awhile.  They can always add more if they need them.

About two o'clock in the morning, Bar refuses to rearrange the rugs again.  Yes, you're right, she thinks. Time for sleep.


She woke at their usual time and it took a moment to remember why the other side of the bed was cold and empty.  She showered quickly and dressed, thinking she'd go down and eat something.   She ended up sitting in the picture window, looking out over the lake, into the forest beyond, wondering where he was.  She drew the shawl around her and picked up a book (William Blake, today).

It wasn't long before she was dozing sitting up.

hell_in_highheels: (full moon)
Day 1: Full moon tomorrow night.

He looked at me over breakfast. There was a wildness and a longing in his eyes, but I cannot say whether it was for me or for some other place, some other life.

He pressed his cheek to mine for a long moment before kissing me once, so briefly, and then he was gone. I wanted to follow him, like Damocles tight at his heels. My heart was in my throat as I watched the lakeside door close behind him.

He didn't look back.

I think I'm most glad of that. I wouldn't want him to see the tears on my cheeks.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950), Letters
Day 2: Full moon tonight.

I can't eat. My mouth has no use for food.

I drink tea because I have always drank tea, even in the machine, when food held no purpose.

I miss that damned Doberman, too.

Gods, I hope he's okay.

My thoughts are my company; I can bring them together, select them, detain them, dismiss them.
~ Walter Landor (1775 - 1864)
Day 3: Full moon just gone.

Last day...

He's done this for two years without me sitting here waiting for him. This is just the way of things.

This is how it will be every month for the rest of my days, if I stay with him.

I can do this. This is nothing compared to 37,000 cycles as a data ghost. This is nothing compared to meeting @ again and having him not recognise me. This is a piece of cake.

He will be tired when he gets home, I imagine. A hot bath and a massage maybe. Sleep, I suspect, and well earned.

I will watch him sleep with a full heart.
To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.
~Anna Louise Strong

hell_in_highheels: (Default)
The Library, Day 121, Post Mortem: Well, that lasted longer than I expected. 

The team, and I use that word lightly, has decided to forego any further structured exploration of our virtual environment, in lieu of pursuing individual priorities.  Strackman Lux is no where to be found.  His interest in the more prurient subject matter in the Library discourages me from investigating his whereabouts any further.

And I have been relieved of any further responsibilities, as there is no one to report our progress to. 

Dr. Moon has informed me that CAL is tracking their discrete information signals, and that they are all in good health.

It's like that pub question.  You have all the time in the world.  What subject do you study?  I think I'll start with Artificial Intelligence and Data Storage, and go from there.

The Library, Day 839, Post Mortem:
I saw Anita today.  I tried to speak to her, but she appeared to be in some kind of trance.  CAL informs me that her data ghost has not undergone any degradation so there's that at least.  She's the first I've seen of them since we split.

I've learned how to work with CAL to manipulate my environment.  She's most eager to please when she has someone to interract with.  We've agreed that smash cuts are disturbing, and that I should take in my days one minute at a time, even the boring ones.  (More time for reading that way.)  She's also agreed to allow me my office spaces.  She has been very respectful about only appearing in the corridor and knocking to request entrance.

It's a clever ruse, of course.  She is still very much a child, in that she has no idea what to do with adult emotions.  It disturbs her greatly to see me crying, so I try to keep it to myself.  But then, she can see everywhere and can not bring herself to leave me alone when I'm having a bit of difficulty.

She was the one who located the historical recordings of the Doctor for me.  At first, I was thrilled.  Now, I find I must save them, ration them carefully.

I have no idea when or even if my data signal will begin to degrade, but if it's a long time from now, I will need to keep myself from gorging on all of his records.  He seems to recognise me, but then, that also seems to be a function of the recording.  Some days it helps.  Some days it only makes it worse.

The Library, Day 6815, Post Mortem: I discovered something very interesting by accident today.

I am apparently double archived.  This came as a great relief as I'd been studying a fictional account of one of the larger sauropods in the Terran timeline, and he decided I would make a tasty snack.  Nothing like this has ever happened here before. I shall have to blame Arthur Conan Doyle and remember to be more careful in future.

Let us never speak of it again.

hell_in_highheels: (Default)
"Returning acquisition noted.  Hallo River."

"Hello CAL.  Come here and give us a hug!"  River bent and opened her arms wide.

The young girl smiled broadly, a child again for a moment, and dashed the length of the room into River's waiting arms.

"Mmm, I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, River.  There's no one here to read me bed time stories when you're gone."

"What?  Won't Miss Evangelista read to you anymore?"

CAL looked chagrined for a moment.  "I didn't ask."

River cocked an eyebrow at the young girl. "CAL, you should ask her.  I can't be here every night to read to you."

"Why not?"

River sighed, tilting her head to one side.  "Because I just can't."

"You've been staying at Milliways."

"I have."

"You like it better there than here."

"It's not that, CAL.  It's just different.  I've been here a very long time and different is a good thing."

CAL didn't even attempt to hide her pout.  "You like Captain Ryan better than you do me."

River's brow furrowed in a moment of confusion and a touch of anger.  "CAL, that's really beneath you.  You know I love you.  You know how much you mean to me."

CAL studied the tips of her shoes.  "I'm sorry."

"As well you should be.  Come here."  River hugged the girl tight against her chest, smoothing her hair, and CAL held on just as tightly.  "Now you know you have no reason to be jealous."

"He's very handsome, isn't he?"

River leaned back, her hands still holding CAL's arms as she smirked and raised a single eyebrow.


"He is.  Very handsome indeed."  River's smirk blossomed into a broad grin.

"Have you told the Doctor yet?"

No one in the Universe could sucker punch quite like CAL could, River thought.  The words felt like a flat hand strike to her solar plexus.  All the wind went out of her.  After a moment, she brushed a strand of hair back from CAL's eyes.  "You know, I haven't."

Intellectually, River knew that CAL knew the location of every volume, and thus would know the location of her husband's historical records.  On the days when the loneliness got to be too much for her to bear, she'd go and talk to him, though it hurt to do so, because it wasn't really him.  It was a construct, like every other historical person in the library.  But he was still a friend to her, in many ways.  She hadn't been to see him since she'd discovered the door to Milliways.  It felt too much like saying goodbye, and they'd agreed never to do that.

"Don't be sad, River."  CAL hugged River close again.

River sighed, hugging the child back and stroking her hair.  "It's all right, CAL.  If we were never sad, how would we know how good it was to be happy, hmm?"

"I don't know about that.  Better just not to be sad."  CAL released her hold on River and danced away, smiling again.  "I brought you more books.  This time on shape shifters! And wolf pack behaviour and gravitational psychology and folklore and oh I found you one on the best cocktails in the known universe!"

River stood up and laughed, following the girl as she lead her to the huge new stack of books on her library table.  

"Are you done with all of these?"  CAL pointed to the teetering stack at the far end of the table.  Twentieth century military history, mostly.

All grim and hard to read, but necessary, River thought.  "Yes, I'm done with those.  Oh wait, hold on."  River made sure to pull out the one green leather bound book, and hold it back.  The faded silver letters on the cover read Reserva Biológica Bosque Nuboso Monteverde.

She absentmindely clutched it to her chest and nodded, watching as CAL vanished the volumes back to their place in the virtual library. 


hell_in_highheels: (Default)
River Song

November 2009

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