clocketpatch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clocketpatch) wrote2009-06-05 11:27 pm
clocketpatch) wrote2009-06-05 11:27 pm
Entry tags:
Blending in
This story has already been archived on the Teaspoon, but I'm posting to lj at the bequest of its inspiration; my very good online friend ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
abbyromana who has made some lovely banner art to go with it.
Title: Blending in
Word Count: 700 (aprox.)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten, Jenny
The Doctor’s sharp nose made a triangle against the blue sky. Immediately beneath that triangle sat a silly, self-proud grin.
“Perfect landing!” he declared.
He leaned in the TARDIS doorway for a moment longer, basking in the view and his achievement. Then he turned.
“Jenny, come on; you have got to see this!”
“Coming!” she said, hopping into the console room, still in the process of putting on her shoes. Her voice carried a distinctly irate edge. “I don’t see why I have to dress like this anyway.”
The Doctor continued his silly smile. “Camouflage,” he said, stepping out the door. Jenny got her shoes on and followed — though not without a furious bout of eye-rolling focused on her father’s unguarded back.
Jenny went outside. Jenny stopped. Jenny gawked.
In the TARDIS, contrasted against the quiet greens and blues, her frilly party dress had looked ridiculous. Here, even with the salmon and scarlet laces, the sequins, and the cascading polka dots; even with her hair piled into a ridiculously over-braided fountain-type pony-tail and her feet squeezed into sparkling rhinestone-studded sandals; here, she looked almost under dressed. Her father, in his traditional brown on brown on brown ensemble, was straight up out of place.
Every colour of every spectrum glittered from every corner of, well, everywhere. The only smooth stroke of colour was the sky, and even that was dotted with blimps, and balloons, and clouds, and rockets, and day-time fireworks.
Cosmopolitan didn’t begin to describe it: there were men in glittering, jewel-studded bikinis; women who had videos playing on their skin; giant hamsters, their fur dyed purple, blue, and fuchsia, walking on their hind legs and chatting about the weather with passers-by —
There were people with antelope horns, and others with elephant trunks and everyone, everyone, with the exception of the Doctor, was dressed to the nines in the strangest, most outlandish outfits Jenny had ever seen.
“What is this place?” Jenny asked.
The Doctor just kept on grinning and looking perfectly daft. His grin was so wide, and so sparkling, that it didn’t matter how out of place his outfit was. Everyone here seemed to be happy. The air smelled like candy, and popcorn, and flowers, and sweat, and dodgy take-out food, and straw, and manure, and technology, and rocket exhaust, and laughter, and a thousand other things almost all of which were foreign to Jenny’s programmed-in memories; but somehow it still smelled good and fresh. The Doctor took a huge, deep breath before addressing his daughter’s question.
“Smell that air!” he said, taking another exuberant sniff. He shook his whole body, his arms lose and joyous. “That’s the smell of the Barcelona Circus!” he said. He smiled at Jenny, not a grin, not a wild expression of joy, or pride, or childishness. He simply smiled, small, and loving, and maybe a bit mischievous. There was a bit of ‘please, please like it’ in his eyes.
Like a puppy he was.
Jenny, daughter like father, smiled back, and, though the Circus was loud, singing, chiming, clanking, barking, howling, and blinging — something very quiet passed between them, through their eyes, blue and brown.
Then the moment was broken by a parade of neon green and heliotrope cat-people walking their leashed charges to a ribbon show in the central plaza.
“Dogs with no noses!” the Doctor shouted, a little boy all over. He grabbed his daughter’s hand and stole her into his whirlwind, running along after the cat-people and their pets. “First we’ll go to the dog show, then rides, then cotton candy, then the acrobats —”
“Can I get a hotdog?” Jenny asked.
For a moment her father looked mortified, then realization, and the tantalizing smell drifting from a nearby concession stand, sunk in. “Of course!” he said, bouncing on his heels. “But after the rides, otherwise — weelll, after the rides. And yes, before you ask, we can go on the roller coaster; what would be the point otherwise?”
abbyromana who has made some lovely banner art to go with it.Title: Blending in
Word Count: 700 (aprox.)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten, Jenny
The Doctor’s sharp nose made a triangle against the blue sky. Immediately beneath that triangle sat a silly, self-proud grin.
“Perfect landing!” he declared.
He leaned in the TARDIS doorway for a moment longer, basking in the view and his achievement. Then he turned.
“Jenny, come on; you have got to see this!”
“Coming!” she said, hopping into the console room, still in the process of putting on her shoes. Her voice carried a distinctly irate edge. “I don’t see why I have to dress like this anyway.”
The Doctor continued his silly smile. “Camouflage,” he said, stepping out the door. Jenny got her shoes on and followed — though not without a furious bout of eye-rolling focused on her father’s unguarded back.
Jenny went outside. Jenny stopped. Jenny gawked.
In the TARDIS, contrasted against the quiet greens and blues, her frilly party dress had looked ridiculous. Here, even with the salmon and scarlet laces, the sequins, and the cascading polka dots; even with her hair piled into a ridiculously over-braided fountain-type pony-tail and her feet squeezed into sparkling rhinestone-studded sandals; here, she looked almost under dressed. Her father, in his traditional brown on brown on brown ensemble, was straight up out of place.
Every colour of every spectrum glittered from every corner of, well, everywhere. The only smooth stroke of colour was the sky, and even that was dotted with blimps, and balloons, and clouds, and rockets, and day-time fireworks.
Cosmopolitan didn’t begin to describe it: there were men in glittering, jewel-studded bikinis; women who had videos playing on their skin; giant hamsters, their fur dyed purple, blue, and fuchsia, walking on their hind legs and chatting about the weather with passers-by —
There were people with antelope horns, and others with elephant trunks and everyone, everyone, with the exception of the Doctor, was dressed to the nines in the strangest, most outlandish outfits Jenny had ever seen.
“What is this place?” Jenny asked.
The Doctor just kept on grinning and looking perfectly daft. His grin was so wide, and so sparkling, that it didn’t matter how out of place his outfit was. Everyone here seemed to be happy. The air smelled like candy, and popcorn, and flowers, and sweat, and dodgy take-out food, and straw, and manure, and technology, and rocket exhaust, and laughter, and a thousand other things almost all of which were foreign to Jenny’s programmed-in memories; but somehow it still smelled good and fresh. The Doctor took a huge, deep breath before addressing his daughter’s question.
“Smell that air!” he said, taking another exuberant sniff. He shook his whole body, his arms lose and joyous. “That’s the smell of the Barcelona Circus!” he said. He smiled at Jenny, not a grin, not a wild expression of joy, or pride, or childishness. He simply smiled, small, and loving, and maybe a bit mischievous. There was a bit of ‘please, please like it’ in his eyes.
Like a puppy he was.
Jenny, daughter like father, smiled back, and, though the Circus was loud, singing, chiming, clanking, barking, howling, and blinging — something very quiet passed between them, through their eyes, blue and brown.
Then the moment was broken by a parade of neon green and heliotrope cat-people walking their leashed charges to a ribbon show in the central plaza.
“Dogs with no noses!” the Doctor shouted, a little boy all over. He grabbed his daughter’s hand and stole her into his whirlwind, running along after the cat-people and their pets. “First we’ll go to the dog show, then rides, then cotton candy, then the acrobats —”
“Can I get a hotdog?” Jenny asked.
For a moment her father looked mortified, then realization, and the tantalizing smell drifting from a nearby concession stand, sunk in. “Of course!” he said, bouncing on his heels. “But after the rides, otherwise — weelll, after the rides. And yes, before you ask, we can go on the roller coaster; what would be the point otherwise?”
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