#e1evenc1ara

there are tales and they go like this:

a boy loved the stars too fondly so he decided to runrunrun and never look back.

  -

  there is a girl and she thinks she knows sorrow. you are ancient as the universe but choose to wear a face as young as hers, because, well, such is the nature of love.

the girl recoils when you change. she is supposed to be brave but looks terrified.

so you smile and breathe: how do i look?

you are vain, after all, and think you are in love.

her name is rose.

change back, her eyes scream.

different, she says instead and does not meet your eyes.

  -

  "Let me tell my own stories."

It's an ordinary day on Florana, where the oceans are filled with milk instead of water and alyssum sweetens the air. Clara lowers the spyglass she found in an abandoned room in the TARDIS and turns to you, questioning.

"Sherwood. Last week." She looks down now, traces the golden ornature of the object. It's a mistake, but you keep pressing her, and your tone is accusatory. "He didn't deserve to know."

"He asked, so I told him."

"Then you should have lied." you say harshly.

Clara's eyes darken with indignation.

"I take pride in travelling with you, and that means I feel no shame telling the truth."

"Truth" you laugh and it is ugly. A voice in your head tells you to stop and you ignore it. "You think you know half of it."

Clara looks at you strangely then, not angry at all, but sad and eternally kind. Both your hearts feel too heavy.

"Then tell me." she says at last and you have to turn away, because her compassion is something too raw, and it is too much to handle.

  -

  there are facts, and these are the following:

when a gallifreyan reaches age eight they are taken to a place which is glory and hell; formerly and officially called the untempered schism, a gap in the fabric of reality; an eternal, throbbing wound in the universe, constantly bleeding vortex from its core.

if one wants to enter the academy, one needs to look.

some are inspired.

some go mad.

and some run.

  -

  good different or bad different? you ask her, searching for truth in her face.

she is braver than you are and that is why she dares to look now, looks at you straight in the eyes.

just different, she shrugs her shoulders.

she looks lost and all you want to say to her is;

run for your life.

  -

  you look young and feel vain when you meet a girl who is trapped in a machine.

(reality is; you are old and desperate)

and she remains in there and dies, valorous oswin oswald: despite; even though, exactly because you have made a promise.

maybe you could have warned her like you did rose, and there is a first rule somehow; numero uno of all rules; the doctor lies and cheats andtricks himself though and across the whole wide universe as he pleases but he cannot outrun himself.

and you can try to spin all the guilt to shining, gilded glory, just like the ornaments on the spyglass, but what if, let's suppose, question, statement: the spyglass is broken?

where is the glory and the vanity when you see that everyone you have ever known or ever loved withers and dies; where and what is the victory where there are no creatures, no planets, no life, just youyouyou and your starving guilt?

oswin oswald smiles.

she tells you to keep on running while her body stays captive in the dalek and she dies, all alone.

you meet her again, with a different name in a different time, amidst snow and sorrow known too well, and she smiles and dies once more.

it's just natural and understandable that you want to keep her safe when the third time comes around; that you want to keep her as close and as alive as it is possible.

she is young and you look young and both of you are fools.

  -

  there is a man who is much more than a man, much worse than a man and he was, is and will always remain a coward with galaxies of blood on his hands.

he is afraid and he is feared and this is a fact and a story, endless and cold, like the universe and the dead, dead stars at the brink of it.

but, but, but;

a boy looks into the vortex and sees eternity.

it terrifies him.

the others see divinity, but what this boy sees is that the schism is but a scar that makes everyone mad; this schism is a scar and scars need to behealed, so the boy turns around and runsrunsruns away with a box that he choose; with a box that choose him.

in the beginning he has nothing but this box and his two giant hearts beating loudly in his ears.

in the end, nothing changes.

  -

  When you look at Clara, you see the universe without scars.

She says your name the way they must have named the stars and nebulas once, and you look young and know love so it is alright to hide your face in her neck, to melt into her arms and keep her close so you feel her heart in rythm with yours.

"What is wrong, clever boy?" she smiles as your lips touch. The room is dark and so she touches your face. Then sits up, abruptly. "Why are you crying?"

You reach for her arms.

This is the third time you have been together in her bed and the seventh time altogether; seven times you have seen stars as you moved together. You should smile but all you feel is your heavy, heavy heart pulling you down.

"Will you tell my story once I am gone?" you say, and you are shaking. The oncoming storm, feared by the universe, kind and wise and so, so, so afraid.

Clara tries to free her arms to caress your face, but you shake them.

"Promise me." you whisper, and remember that some are inspired and some are mad and some-

"My story and your story and the story of all the stars. You and me. Us. Them."

All you feel is her now. There is sorrow too, wearing the face of a small Scottish girl, lost.

Slowly, you let out a shaky, nervous laugh.

It's too dark to see her face, but you know that her eyes must be softer than her hands are as they smooth your hair back from your forehead.

Her kisses are promises.

  -

  he will always have blood on his hands and will always try to wash it in someone else's love.

after all, the hero of the story is not a hero at all.

everything has its time and everything ends.

the medicine man laughs and laughs and laughs until he laughs himself into another person, to see planets born again, start the spark of hope again, to know that love and that sorrow again and again and again.

it is an ancient and desperate laugh, full with the knowledge that he is the exception, because of rule four-hundred and eight: time is not the boss of you and this is not the day to discuss why the doctor has so many rules so let's run instead.

let us always run.

you are exception but humans are not and this is both a fact and a tragedy.

  -

  there is a girl who is star without a scar and recoils when you change.

she is supposed to be brave, but is now terrified.

you are more ancient than some of the planets our there and now you finally look like it again.

with brand new eyes you watch her.

she is still constant, still impossible and stillstillstill you love her.

stay calm, you say and mean it as she meant those kisses; we are probably crashing.

into what? she asks, still perplexed, petrified, but she is brave and looks straight into your eyes.

she looks lost and all you want to say to her is;

into each other.

  -

  "I made a promise to you once."

Clara's silhouette is lovely, her voice clear in the dark.

It's the first time you are in her bedroom since the regeneration, and you feel like you are going to explode the way the stars do when they die.

"I know."

There is a sudden, silent pause. Her right hand goes to her mouth to stifle the tears, but you catch it before it reaches her face, and kiss it.

Why are you crying is not a question anymore, it's the answer, and there it is, the miracle that is worth eternity.

Clara smiles.

  -

  a boy in gallifrey makes a promise and runsrunsruns away.

he knows that not everything ends.

not love.