Romanadvoratrelundar, scion of Heartshaven, inheritor of House Dvora, custodian of House Everstone, President of Gallifrey in many a timeline, was spending her afternoon recording a piece of fiction.
The protagonist just happened to be eerily similar to her, and was facing a predicament reminiscent of her own, with a failing universe and a planet full of daleks. Except in this narrative, Treundar hadn’t needed saving, on account of her quick thinking, intellectual prowess, and an unexplained power or two.
Mana jumped at the sound of the door opening, trailing off mid-sentence. Her hearts sunk as she saw just who had walked in on her, and she ducked her head, embarrassed. The Romanas that Narvin usually dealt with had far better things to do with their time than tell stories. She stopped the recording, looking almost guilty. “Coordinator, I, ah, didn’t know you were coming today.”
She’d have felt much better about it, had she known that K-9 could attest to the opposite and that Romana’s skill with storytelling hadn’t really grown much over the centuries.
@coordinatrix
