#daftoldwarrior

[Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.]

“SO, there is this wonderful animal we have in Asgard, called the ensom boar. It’s nothing - nothing like the boar on Midgard. For once actually yours is bigger. Far bigger. These are small, wiry little things with grey coats and fangs and they move so quickly. Few ever even see one as they are so elusive. Those who do are considered blessed with good fortune and such.

“This better not have been your doing.”

" mm. " susan raised her brows as she hummed in agreement. " didn't get threatened with expulsion nearly as much as you, though. " ironic, somewhat, that he got in more trouble, yet she was the one who didn't end up graduating. didn't matter now, of course. didn't really matter back then, either, except how big of a deal the time lords always made that sort of stuff.

it wasn't what she was talking about. they both knew that. if anything, she was proud of the havoc she caused as a time tot. it really was nothing, especially when compared to what she would do later on. commander arkytior larn. weapons expert. everything she did was in the name of duty -- of a justifiable end -- but that didn't mean she was proud of it. that didn't mean she should have done it. it was a long time ago now. it still haunted her.

at least one of them was moving on. " it's nice, " she said, looking around the room. it was a home. an actual home. the closest susan had was a vortex manipulator and several unpaid-for hotel rooms. " are you enjoying it? retirement? "

@daftoldwarrior [ Smut Prompt List ]

"Says the man who seems to be making a habit of having one night stands with me."

Darkness shook her head with a knowing smile as she left his side to collect the hotel robe from the floor. Sliding off the bed she wrapped it around herself to cross the room for the phone.

This wasn't their first night in a hotel. They'd met a couple months ago in a bar. After a wild night of sex and distraction from their depression they'd since texted each other frequently to meet up when they needed a release from whatever bullshit reality had thrown at them. In the morning they'd go their separate ways until the next time one of them needed a distraction.

Leaning against Theta as they sat on the beach, River sighed softly, tightening her grip on his hand.

It had been five years since they lost Clara, five years of denial, anger, and grieving. The denial had been the worst: both so convinced that there had to be some way to bring Clara back. They’d been able to bring River back from the Library, surely there was something similar that they could do for Clara as she was so unique. And she was a full Time Lady, that had to count for something. She couldn't just be gone.

It was only when their individual attempts almost killed them in the process that they knew it was impossible. That, and the death threats from Lex if they continued to dishonor his daughter’s memory like they were, were more than enough to urge them back to realism.

Of course, following the denial was the anger, long nights spent shouting at one another for not watching over Clara properly or for letting her go on that trip in the first place, storming off to separate rooms at the end of each. After all, they both knew how dangerous it was and, perhaps worse, how much Clara would want to go with them anyway, they should have been so much more careful. But no, they weren’t, treating it like any other outing, and assuming she’d be fine as long as she stayed close, and she had paid the price for it. For months they could hardly look at one another, and refused to spend longer than necessary in the same room, too angry at the other for failing their wife to even try and talk for her sake.

River had been the first to break, Theta finding her one afternoon on the floor of Clara’s old bedroom, curled up around Clara’s pillow, having tired herself out from what he assumed was hours of crying. The remainder of the room showed no signs of the pure fury between them that had left minute scars on the rest of the house: her things were far too precious to them now.

He had carried her to their bedroom and laid her down in their now too large bed, laying down next to her and holding her against his chest. When she woke up, he had apologized, and though he wouldn’t let her turn around to look at him, she could feel dampness on her shoulder in the same area his face was pressed against.

It took a long time, with intermittent arguments and mornings waking up like that one, but, eventually, it didn’t hurt quite so bad. Over time, they found that celebrating her life made it more melancholy than sad, and so found themselves going out of their way to do activities she would have loved. She may not have been there in person with them any longer, but they could still keep her spirit alive.

“It’s getting late, we should get back home,” River murmured, watching the sun start to go down.

“Shall we sit next to the fireplace and read from our journal?” She knew he meant that the one River kept that detailed all three of their adventures.