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Theta… I hardly know what to say at times. We both know there’s nothing left of me because of what they do to all of us. I don’t mean to do the things I do, but the others… It’s lonely. There’s not a single Timelord who would dare to allow me to… Our minds were linked and now they’re not, the world is silent except for madness. Please forgive me my sins.

Yours, Koschei

The Doctor didn't really except a letter from the Master, create a real surprise of his face...with an inner feeling of delight. After all, since the beginning, the idea of a 'truce' - he had thinking about it during a long times before give up, won't actually the future between them - was an opportunity for the Doctor for change things in a better way. And he planned to stick to this line overriding policy. He re-read the short letter several times, trying to find the right words that would fit into an answer.

     Dear Koschei,

Repentance of your sins was a great and pleasant surprise, I must admit. I dare not imagine all the effort it had to get you to express the pain of the soul on paper. Some words say more, like novels that opened in the eyes of the person in front; and the word 'sin' is well the gravity of this kingdom filled with inner turmoil, blood, corpses as souvenirs, forgotten names.

I understand by his word you wanted to be forgiven, with the terrible fact, indeed, any Time Lord will could easily forgive you. Why should them after all, with all the terrible things we know with them?

And I remind you, Koschei, your mind is more than just silence and madness inside. Like you just express it now. I heard your desire to be forgiven.

Except, understand if I have to forgive you, if I say it, I would expect the past we already know and the future I know; the future we won't wish to have anyway. Without real word, I can say I won't that future, and the time between us, the time we can't usually have, is a form of forgiveness.

                                                     Yours,

Send ‘❁’ and my muse will offer yours a flower

The Doctorhad decided to spend a little time in his garden, to cause a little hand someof his flowers. Now every time he entered the large space with several plots offlowers with a large greenhouse a little further, he thought back to the gardenhe would create with Mel, and this made him more and giving joy. He had comehere to relax, aware that again, tonight, he couldn’t sleep. He had tried, hehad awfully tried, but the nightmares of his past were there. But the Doctor workingduring a normal night was so common that it is now reduced to this: ‘a little time’.

Histhoughts had been thinking about something else, far from his problems,focusing on the future in front of him, a future not imposed but created by him.He liked to be in that metaphorical cage in which he was gradually locked, evenif the ‘cage’ was only his freedom. He didn’t count the number of hours towater the flowers or doing other things like watching nature in curiously,having cracked the point out a magnifying glass to look at life act withoutintervention.

When it wastime to leave, he wouldn’t return without giving anything to Mel, but didn’tknow how to offer him something from his garden without appearing too stupid. Thenhe care a lot to his garden to pluck too many flowers, even if they wouldeventually wither but care about them too much for do an insensibly killing. Sothe Doctor sought a rare find in his flowers, which it unfortunately was theperfect example of his life: a beautiful flower, but who was sick, who wouldn’t have much to live, where it was better to give him death in this way thatthe suffering of fade quite dramatically. Life being unjust by nature, he hadobserved in several in each plot, even if their number varied. But the Doctordidn’t issue any judgment over his garden: it was a place where nature wasmaster, and letting live, really involved very little, he could observe, understandand grasp the concept in this generality. It became one of his reflexes toreact in this way, become very respectful while breaker rules in the extreme. Hehad to understand how to fight against the concepts to have power over them,having already placed himself among them.

Dearfriend,

Writing hasalways been a somewhat surprising testing when it comes to address words on asheet. I could describe the thrilling emotion inside of me reading your recentletter: joy, happiness, a mixture of emotions like a firework. It’s always apleasure to hear from you, different from the usual text messages I recognize! I’msorry to be so little present for you for now.

You’resomeone important to me, more than my words can let it think, more than myactions may suggest more than my eyes seem to whisper, more than my silencesseem report.

These areimportant words.

                                                   Yours,

send ☔ for my muses reaction to learning that your muse is never coming back

The oceannext to the Doctor looked at the short message received few seconds earlier onhis phone.

It was alittle message. It was only words. But they were words full of meaning.

Theillusory world of light in daily life by the Doctor toppled during his secondsin total darkness. The hand holding the phone had started to shake, and he feltready to let go. He couldn’t afford to break his phone. He didn’t hear thecrackling sound, which might be redundant with another inner sound.

“Why….”

His eyescouldn’t break away from his phone, while being aware that every second washurting more. In a desperate move, he put his phone in his pocket, feeling hismind be more and more distant. Clinging to the wall of the TARDIS, hear theresonance of that to try to help him instead provoked brutal sound in the ears.His vision became cloudy, which, very slowly, inwardly, he could feel a greatlight of hope, crack by piece. He could slowly feel the darkness of hisinterior take him, and the drums seemed to enjoy playing with broken hearts. He hadalways had a presentiment that he could fall much lower than he was already,but never imagined confirm it by living it…

“WHY!WHY! WHY! WHY!”

Anger.Distress. His two emotions mingled in him. He wanted to bang your fist againstthe wall but he had no strength. He wanted to weep all the tears in his body,but he refused.

“Whyit had to end like this…?”

It was abarely audible whisper, broken words when he felt immediately guilty awareness he felt more helpless, in a supplication where he would bewrong.

“Sorry” sentence starters. 

“Eachother, we have a complicated life, isn’t it, professor Song?”

The Doctorand Jamie had been able to spend a few moments inside a total calm, after avery long day filled by various emotions. They weren’t inside the control room,where the Doctor had programmed the TARDIS to see the spectacle of a supernova,generating parameters to hear the Music of the Spheres; who took time togetherinside his ‘false’ bedroom.

Compared tohis immense sanctuary, it was rather small, with a small library a lot lesspersonal, a wardrobe with a few spare clothes but rarely used and especiallyfull of empty notebooks or filled with drawings of different landscapes andplanets of the Universe in general.  Theatmosphere of the room was very silent, where the whiteness of the room gave asign almost its reason for being: only a place for sleep sometimes. It wasn’tsomething so strange for shows to his companion this place.

He jumped alittle when he realized she had fallen asleep against him, gently hugging herin a small smile .As a father, he looked at her tenderly.

Maybe he will let her sleep inside his bed…or come back into her bedroom.