#subesserenatus

Part of her wished more than anything that her mama hadn't uprooted half the garden. The once brilliant garden that her late mum so loved to paint was torn apart, a rosebush pruned down to nothing and spring flowers ripped out of the earth so that flowers and broken stems and crushed petals scattered the ground. It was a fit of grief and rage the night before that had caused this disaster, Isis looking on with her heart in her throat, not knowing whether or not to stop her mama as she moved around the garden, truly looking like the madwoman she so often claimed to be, ripping flowers out of the ground and cutting up rosebushes and sobbing her heart out. It wasn't until the ginger woman had fallen to her knees in the dirt that Isis had finally felt safe to approach her, bring her into the house and do her best to calm and comfort her until she fell asleep.

Which is how, before the sun had entirely risen, Isis found herself in the garden with an armful of flowers, doing her best to rid the garden of evidence of the night before. She was about to toss some clippings from a rosebush into the little wheelbarrow she'd brought out when she saw a shape coming up the hill from the beach.

It was a blonde girl, about the same age as she, dressed a little like the Doctor used to before River passed away. The closer the girl walked, Isis could see that she was shivering with cold. Had she been in the water?