[IX] and in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat

[godcomplexed]

[Voice]

Well, that's nice. A nice gift. One of many from Mayfield, always look forward to one after a particularly horrible time.

And yes, I'm being sarcastic. Getting my head cut open and then being forced to kiss people, and all I get is the bloody Pandorica? Which is, because you're all curious, the greatest prison ever created that looks sort of like a rather large box and about a year ago I flew it into an exploding TARDIS to reboot the universe and save every living thing. Yes, you're welcome.

By the way, if I did kiss you a few weeks ago, you're very welcome for that too. But not quite as welcome as for saving the universe, which is, rather more impressive. But still, I've been complimented quite often on my kissing. Though, I really wasn't planning on kissing anyone at all so don't expect any repeats.

...And back to the Pandorica. Right. Well, if anyone wants a rather large and ugly stone box, I'll freely give you this one. Fits one person inside. Maybe two if you're small. Also, may or may not have restoring powers. Dunno anymore.

Still, if you can drag it off my lawn, it's yours. Use it for a cage for your more annoying friends or something, I don't care.

[Action at 1338 Benny Road.]

[It's easy, even at night, to notice the large, eight feet tall and eight feet wide, and slightly glowing cube sitting in the front yard.

As one passes by the house, it becomes obvious that one side of the box is opened, two doors sliding outwards to reveal a chair. And in the chair, bathed in a soft blue light that comes from inside the box, is the Doctor.

He's curled up in the chair, knees to his chest, and staring blankly up at the sky, lost in thought. It's odd to see him so quiet and so still, and the with the complete absence of any energy, he barely seems like the same man who made the earlier angry phone call.

Whatever he's thinking about, it certainly has a deep hold on his mind as he doesn't seem to even notice anyone approach.]

Comments

[encored]

[ah. that's definitely a feeling he can understand. feeling empathy is strange, but also comforting in a way.]

It never gets any easier, does it? [he knows that words of condolence mean nothing in the face of such heavy loss, so he says nothing more than that.]

[godcomplexed]

No.

[The Doctor hunches over, pressing his face into his hands, absolutely refusing to cry in front of Charles.]

[encored]

[he's never been very good at offering comfort to others, but this is such a raw and tangible pain that he hesitantly raises a hand before gently resting it against the Doctor's back.

absolutely nothing can dull the shock of essentially watching one's friends and family die over and again only to be brought back anew, but he has the tiniest hope that maybe, just maybe, he can help ease the loneliness by letting it be know that he's here.]

[godcomplexed]

[The Doctor shudders a bit at the touch and keeps his face hidden. His body shakes with silent sobs and the only sound he makes is the intake of a shuddering breath.]

[encored]

[he's silent for a while longer to let the Doctor have the peace and space to mourn, though he pulls his hand away before long. part of him briefly debates whether or not he ought to leave, but his instincts tell him to stay, and so he does.]

[godcomplexed]

[The Doctor pulls himself up, sniffling and wiping at his face.]

Don't mind me.

[encored]

[he's certainly not going to ignore what just happened, but he'll be kind enough to be vague about things. he knows how important it is to keep your pride intact after everything else has crumbled.]

Is anyone else here? From your world, I mean.