makemeasong | Open post/meme overflow 💫

( ooc: continued from here )

[Truth be told the Doctor doesn't have the faintest idea of a destination in mind when he suggests it to Clara. The only resounding truth he has is that he's missed traveling with her and exploring worlds that are new to the both of them.

He was starkly aware that their dynamic wasn't the same as it had with his previous life, but he knew that they had eventually found their way into a comfortable dynamic that had eventually lead them to this: something that was purely theirs.

Untangling Clara from his arms, he led her by the hand towards the console as the door quietly swung shut behind them. Gently he pressed her fingers into the soft gel and knowing he wouldn't have to explain what it was, he bent down leaning in to whisper in her ear.]

Think about some of your favourite things. We'll see where the old girl takes us.

Edited 2022-08-13 03:30 (UTC)

[ Clara smiles from ear to ear and for a moment, she can't help but tease. ]

Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens.

[ After laughing at her own joke she finally takes a breath and lets it out contently, letting her thoughts drift. It's difficult not to think of him because he is her favorite thing, but she tries to fit other things in: the way it sounds when wood crackles in a cozy fire, reading books under a warm blanket and baking sweets in a kitchen. ]

I have no idea what she's gonna do, honestly. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you.

[ Clara grins at him cheekily, moving her hand as the TARDIS seems to have come to a decision. ]

[The Doctor is rolling his eyes but it's all in jest even if she can't see it. Despite that he stays there behind her watching the screens, noting the flashes of him that appear from time to time. All he does is give her a look, a cheeky warning of, 'don't you get started', pulls the lever.

When they arrive, he sends her away to get changed into something more appropriate for wherever it is they've landed and by the time she's returned, he's waiting patiently by the door, hand on the handle waiting for her before nudging it open.]

After you.

[The TARDIS opens into a soft muted, neon forest. Lights dart from the fir trees while the forest floor beneath them is covered in long sweetgrass. And there nestled in the glade is a log cabin which the Doctor can only assume is for them because as far as he can tell the next one is several hills over. It's a place hasn't been to before but instead of taking it all in immediately as he normally would, he looks expectantly over at Clara.]

Edited 2022-08-13 03:53 (UTC)

[ She's decided on jeans and a top that's light enough she won't get hot, and warm enough that she won't be too chilly. When she steps through the TARDIS door, Clara looks around and then closes her eyes, listening to the sounds for a second before a soft, serene smile crosses her lips.

Looking at him again, she reaches out for his hand, ready to let him lead. ]

I happen to think she did pretty well. This is perfect, where are we?

You hear that, old bird? Good job. [He gives the TARDIS a rap with his knuckles by way of a thank you before taking her hand and pushing ahead as the door locks gently behind them.

There's no real path between the TARDIS and the cabin, but strangely enough the sweet grass seems to bend around them, allowing them space to move without getting trampled. The sky above them turns a soft, dusky pink and purple like a sunset before fading into an inky navy twilight that bleeds into the light of dawn. It was hard to tell how time worked here, but that was a marvel for later.

The cabin door is unlocked when they reach its threshold. The inside is cozy and inviting despite being only lit by the morning glow. There's a large couch in front of a fireplace, bookshelves to the ceiling, a staircase spiraling upwards, and beyond it a kitchen, not unlike the images from Clara's mind. He stands there soaking it all in and he's suddenly overcome by the oddest sense that he's been there before.]

She did remarkably well. Almost to a tee.

[ Clara turns in a slow circle as she takes it in, unable to keep a grin off of her face. It feels like her cheeks hurt but she can't stop. She hasn't been this happy in longer than she cares to remember, and she steps in front of him, smiling and then wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. ]

This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you.

[ The words are spoken softly against the side of his neck before she pulls back and makes her way to the books first, eager to see what there is. ]

How long can we stay?

[Clara hugging him throws him out of his stupor and he shakes the thought off to hug her back.]

As long as we'd like. Depends on how fast you read.

[He watches her run off with excitement to scan the titles of the books, some in English, some in languages that he'd have to have a closer look at to decipher, but with the TARDIS nearby, it won't be any trouble for Clara to read them as if she knew the language by heart. In his mind's eye he sees a memory - an echo of her bounding in the same way to the bookshelves, devouring the books one by one over the course of the time they spend there.

He's been here before. They've been here before. But when?]

Anything interesting?

[ Pulling out a book, she makes her way to the comfortable looking couch, reaching out her hand to him. ]

Come see. I'll read to you.

[ It's from a planet she's never been to, but something about it makes her drawn to the title and she settles in. When she opens it, a silver leaf falls out, old and pressed between the pages. She's never seen anything of Gallifrey except for the paintings, so she holds it out to him. ]

That's pretty. A lost bookmark, maybe.

Edited 2022-08-13 04:40 (UTC)

[He's over to her side in several strides, curling up beside her like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The book though makes something in his heart clench. Clara had opened it to a random page and from a quick glance he could gather that the book was about a planet with its reverence for unions of soulmates. But it isn't that that jogs his memory so much as the leaf. If he hadn't been sure before about whether or not they'd been here, he was certain now.

After a moment he takes it from her hand, twirling it around idly. He doesn't want to ask her yet. He isn't sure what response it'll illicit.]

Lost until we found it. [And he tucks it neatly back where it came from for now.] Now what was that about reading to me?

[ She used to do this with him before he regenerated all the time and so they haven't had this, not in a long while. Turning to the front of the book she begins to read what she didn't realize was a love story - she judges the book by its cover, and it drew her eye.

Her voice is soft, melodic almost and she seems to slip over the words like water on rocks. She never stumbles, the perfect reading voice, and she goes on for three chapters before stopping, looking up at him. ]

What do you think? Keep going with this one? If so, it's your turn.

[Listening to her is such a gift, he's realizing. Granted that may change once they start bickering, but even then he'll still cherish it because he had to go so long without hearing it.

But he's also watching her. Waiting to see if any of the passages she's reading jog a memory in her own mind. He feels a small prickle of disappointment it doesn't seem like there's anything, but his face doesn't betray it.]

Give it here then. [He clears his voice before beginning to read aloud. The book is part fairytale from the planet and part fiction. Two travelers who met under extraordinary circumstances and quite a lot of times at odds, finding that they're suddenly destined to marry. It outlines their adventures, the bantering (and at that he exaggerates his eyeroll), the bickering, and their inevitable union.]

Seems like the lesson here is that you can't escape your soulmate. [He glances towards her.] Thoughts?

She's tucked close to him, eyes closed as she listens to him read. She doesn't seem to be having flashes of memory the way he is, but it's as if she's folded herself back into a life with him that she'd thought she lost. She's curled close, able to feel the warmth of him and the timbre of his voice through him, into her.

When he pauses and asks for her thoughts, she looks up at him.

I'm here, aren't I?

Her words are soft, almost shy - which is rare, for Clara. She's still semi-afraid she'll spook him, and she goes still, waiting for his reply.

[Her response gives him hope, but it's mixed with surprise at how she replies. It softens him in response and he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.]

Impossible and yet here you are.

[The question is on the tip of his tongue again but he can't bring himself to ask his question yet.]

Hungry yet? Thought I saw something about baking.

[ She's only here because of him, but Clara holds onto his question instead of saying that, looking up at him. ]

You never ask anything for no reason. Why d'you ask now?

[ She assumes just because of the book and the nature of it. ]

It came up on the screens, didn't it?

[Of course he counters the question with another one of his own. Time and experience had made him kinder but no less infuriating to interact with. Really though, it might just be him avoiding having to ask her the question that had been jogged through the depth of his memories.]

Seem a waste to have it just sit there.

Do you believe in soulmates, then?

[ She's just as stubborn as he is, and so the question that was answered with a question is answered with yet another. ]

[Oh they were doing this now, huh? But he relents in his own way.]

You know I'm not a romantic, Clara. Romanticism is for people that also like embarrassing bowties. But I said you were here, didn't I? Impossible yet here you are.

Do you think if I say I did believe them, that'd be silly of me?

[ Clara looks up at him, her wide brown eyes looking into his cool blue ones. ]

You made your way back to, in the diner. Literally hours before I...

[ Before she was going to have her heart beat that one last time. ]

Why would I think that's silly? Just because you like embarrassing bowties it doesn't mean that you're silly. It just means you believe in soulmates. You're a romantic.

[His blue melt for a moment as he reaches for her hand.]

One of us has to be.

[ She smiles softly and laces her fingers together. ]

It wasn't just the bowties, you know. I like sunglasses and hoodies and watching you play guitar. Just as much as I liked your floppy hair and big chin.

[ Clara can only laugh softly now because he's here with her. ]

My only regret is not kissing that chin when I had the chance.

[That gets a bit of a gruff laugh out of him.]

He would have loved that. And if that's the only regret you right now I'd say we're doing well, aren't we?

I like to think so.

[ She's going to get up but as she looks around, something catches her eye and she gets up instead after squeezing his hand, walking back to the bookshelf. But her eyes look up and she reaches up on her tiptoes, picking up a postcard. Running her fingers over it, she feels something tug in her chest that hasn't in so long. ]

I've been here. But...I can't remember. Have we been here?

[ She fips the postcard so he can see it, watching him. ]

[His first instinct is to bound up from his spot on the couch to follow her but is instead rooted to his spot on the couch by what she finds. It appears that the moment has come before he can instigate it himself.]

We might have. I had a similar feeling when I walked through the door.

Like deja vu?

[ Clara steps closer, holding the postcard of Gallifrey before its fall and handing it to him as she sits back down. ]

I didn't say anything, I just thought I'd been so many places things were starting to blur together.

Like a memory. An echo.

[He takes the postcard from him, turning it over in his hands similar to how he had with the silver leaf.]

That tends to happen when you've been through all the when's and where's of time and space.

[He stares at the postcard, recalling for a moment Gallifrey in its glory.] Is there anything specifically about this place [He motions around them.] that you remember? That book we read? The kitchen? The feel of the sweet grass on your legs?

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