Apr. 9th, 2007

alainn_aislinn: (Nibbling on finger)
...and contentious, snarky banter?

Your Famous Movie Kiss is from The Empire Strikes Back

"Captain [Harkness], being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."
alainn_aislinn: (Muse)
Dearest Vincent,

I still have the painting you painted and left in the field for me on my wall. Everyone thinks it's a print or an imitation, of course, but I just smile, because I know the truth. There has never been anyone who has quite captured the world the way you saw it, the way I saw it through your eyes. The colors, the hazing, the halos of light around ordinary objects that made it all look like something more from home than here.

The nights at Arles, up late, watching you paint Starry Night, talking to you even though I never thought you actually heard me are some of my fondest memories of those days. You gave me hope when things seemed hard, were a breath of fresh air when they'd put Oscar in that horrible place. We worked well together, you and I, and I was delighted by the new medium, away from words and into color and dancing lights.

Theo never understood, and I am sorry for that. Causing strife for you was never my intention, you must know that. Your brilliance was just a light that pulled me all the way across the sea, to a land I barely knew. I had to touch it, to touch you, to let it shine 'round us both. There has not been another painter to touch me so, since you. I retreat to words and rhyme and the power in them, because none can compete to capture the world so brilliantly as you did.

Thank you for sharing that with all of us. For letting me be a part of it, to touch you, to let you grow and glow and shine all the brighter.

You are remembered, and you are missed.

Love,
Aislinn

P.S. I am very sorry about the insanity. I don't think that was my fault, though it does seem to happen on a semi-regular basis around me, so if on the off chance it was...I am sorry.
alainn_aislinn: (Distraught dreaming)
She wandered, after parting from Romana. Wandered the halls and let herself get lost. She hadn't wanted to leave him, had wanted to wrap herself up in him and beg him to make it be all right again, to tell her he still wanted her. Romana's kiss lingered, along with her own statements thrown challengingly at Reinette and Rose both. She didn't like girls, not that way. She'd kissed her back in as much confusion and curiosity as anything else, too surprised by the turn of events to even...process them.

And then he'd been there and been...something.

And hadn't come after her. Hadn't asked. Hadn't yelled. Hadn't cared?

She took her water to her room, fiddling with things, then let them be, letting them go, nothing holding her. She went to Byron's room next, retreating quickly when she found him tangled in bed with Rose, fast asleep. That avenue was closed then, and it hurt, sharp and cutting and more than it should.

The Zero room just felt even more alone, not able to even feel the others on the TARDIS, and she left there as quickly as she'd entered. More and more distracted, she gave in and let the TARDIS nudge her, through corridors and down stairs and upstairs until she should have been somewhere new, but wasn't, not really.

The doors to the butterfly garden opened before she even touched them, and the colorful insects swarmed her the instant she stepped in, soft wings brushing over her as they settled here and there, blending with her dress, fluttering over her skin and hair. It drew a smile, at least, however small. even if it faded quietly.

Her gardening tools were there, and she could have sworn they sparkled a bit, which made her glare slightly at the TARDIS.

"I see them."

She started working on the plants she'd picked up at their last stop, somewhat sluggishly, but finally losing herself in the loam and the simple rhythms of it. Not in the Earth, not in the natural rhythms, but the TARDIS was alive, too, and it reminded her of that gently. Twisting her hair back up, she closed her eyes, listening to it, and then working in time with its rhythms, its ebbs and flow of power, opening herself up to it in an instinctual give and take she hadn't tried before, tentative at first, then more fluid until she felt like she did with her artists sometimes, like boundaries ceased to matter, and her breathing settled into something calmer.

It wasn't touch, flesh to flesh and comfort and warmth. It wasn't him, holding her, telling her things she needed to hear, but at least it felt like the TARDIS was reassuring her she wasn't alone, and for now, that had to be enough.

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alainn_aislinn

December 2007

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