[ His little touches and kisses are just distracting enough that she nearly considers setting aside the matter for another time. Another time, another time. No, this will need to be attended to, and so with her mind set she turns away to crouch and settle the rock cluster back where she saw him take it. They can always visit it again before the camp moves.
Reaching for his hand, she'll lace their fingers together to be the one to pull him along this time. They are too near to camp for this, and although they have been warned against wandering far, she has little hesitation in pulling the Doctor along towards the massive dunes of sand. She's quiet, following her senses as she always does. Her footsteps may seem to wander, but they have a path that only she can feel.
Only she, at least, until the sand begins to tremble and sink from a massive creature burrowing deep beneath their feet. ]
[ The way the sand they're standing on becomes suddenly unstable, and then ripples as it would from a great monster swimming just beneath the surface, fills the Doctor with a momentary thrill. That's his first thought, naturally, rather than fear or apprehension.
Still clinging to Vanessa's hand, the Doctor watches the ground with fascination, his eyes widening with burgeoning excitement. In a moment, it will click for him just how she knew to find this, to sense it, to...command it? Can she do so as she'd done in the labyrinth?
His mind is a flutter of possibility and anticipation, the worry trailing behind but catching up. The sand worms their Scavenger friends had spoken about, that he's seen bare glimpses of, and here it lies beneath their feet. ]
[ She turns to face him to gauge his expression, catching the conflict in his eyes, but she thinks it worth it to risk more. Vanessa sinks down and her cloak spills out around her while she sits on the humming sand. Her smile is tentative, and she tugs at his hand to pull him down with her, the grip on his hand tightening so that he'll stay close.
It's expected that the Doctor would be excited at the thought of being in such proximity to these creatures, and she hopes that is plenty enough to distract him from any fleeting concerns that might be nagging on the outer reaches of his mind. ]
Hold on.
[ To her, yes, but also to the colossal sandworm that slowly begins to rise up beneath the tumbling sands. She'll take his hand and press it down between them to bury it in the cool sand as it sinks and they seem to descend with it. But before they can go too far to worry, the vibrations through the sand pick up to the point that the rumble can be felt deep into the bones, and the worn, rigid scales of a sand leviathan suddenly press up against their palms with heaving breaths like weighted thunder. The beast lifts them slowly, though a soft woosh of chilled air still tickles at the loose wisps of her braid on their ascension.
She is careful to observe his reaction, but Vanessa can't resist her own glance at the sight around them once the sandworm stops to loom in the night sky. It's captivating...though not as much as the feel of the creature underneath her. She is only sorry that it resents her control at times, but for now it seems willing enough. ]
[ The gambit pays off in her favor for the moment. Here in this desolate place with its bountiful secrets and endless terrors, there's delight to be found in the new and unknown. He's never ridden a sandworm before, and the Doctor finds enjoyment wherever he may, for however long he can.
As they dip momentarily into the sand and then rise above it, he feels his hearts beat more rapidly, completely thrilled and captivated as he holds on carefully. That brief fall and lift remind him so much of the journeys he's taken across the stars, the exhilaration in defying gravity and walking the outer edges of black holes. There's a bright smile on his face now, his fingers very lightly stroking across the creature's scales. ]
Oh, you beauty. You big, magnificent beauty!
[ Briefly, the Doctor leans in close, resting his cheek to the worm's aged scales, wanting to experience and delight in every sensation he possibly can for the moment. The way it moves, the ripples of its breath beneath the surface of its skin, it's all extraordinary. Lost for a few minutes in appreciating the sandworm's very existence, it takes the Doctor a bit longer than usual to pivot back around. But then he lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed and focused on Vanessa. ]
[ Despite his mixed reaction, Vanessa hopes he will continue to favor the beauty of it. There, too, is the necessity. Few in their traveling party had been bold enough to pursue this task for the very danger it provided. Should he be surprised she was one of those who sought it out the first moment she could?
Though how she had found herself in that moment is still difficult to describe. She casts her eyes down, not from shame but for the struggle of recollection. Vanessa's memory can be striking when recollecting most things, but anything relating to her has always been...unreliable. ]
He was calling out. Not to me, but I— Something in me heard the call and wanted to answer.
[ Something in me, she says, as if she can still distance herself; as if she doesn't know the name and truth of it. She is only possessing herself in those moments. What excuses are really left? Why does she bother? ]
He didn't much like the answer at first, I think, but... Miss Maximoff arrived just in time.
[ She moves to her knees and scoots back until she reveals the rune painted in her blood on one of the worm's scales, her fingertips caressing beneath the sigil. Whatever cut was on her palm has been healed, so it's no wonder he didn't know that she'd been up to any blood magic. ]
I was able to secure him with a spell while she held him in place. Her magic is something to behold, do you know? Though it strained her... I owe her my gratitude.
[ Something in me...mother of evil...Amunet. The threads that were once so loose when they'd first met only continue to tighten now, to form a shape and offer understanding. They haven't spoken much about it since she came through the beacon, but what he's pieced together from their conversations before, and his own knowledge, helps to further explain what she tells him.
Before he can say much in that regard, the Doctor's attention turns to the rune made with her blood, and he feels those hearts of his constrict painfully, when they'd been dancing with joy only a moment ago. ]
I owe her mine. Vanessa, this was dangerous, unnecessarily dangerous. She arrived just in time. And if she hadn't—
[ He's agitated now and he reaches for her hand, turning it over to look at where the cut would have been. Despite there being nothing to really see, he clings to her, his thumb moving across her palm. ]
Amunet—that part of you. It heard and wanted to respond but couldn't control the creature alone. What if something had happened to you?
[ His voice raises measurably, fraught with worry. What he's said implies she had any control over that within her, but he knows better despite what he's said. He's letting emotion rule over him at the moment, his logic overruled. ]
[ Unnecessarily, no she doesn't think so, and to that her eyes widen with a spark of indignation as she pulls her hand away. She expects him to worry, but there's an assumption he makes that irks her. ]
I may have been able to control it. I wasn't given the chance. The sands, they—
[ They had shifted too quickly. She had misjudged her distance from the sandworm, but now she's reluctant to admit that mistake for her pride. With a scoff, Vanessa shakes her head and looks off to the side to try and dismiss his concerns, to try and turn his attention back to the view. ]
Nothing happened to me. And it was necessary. We need them, don't we?
[ He won't be diverted so easily this time, not now that his focus is on her and what she went through in order to control this creature. He won't disagree about the importance, no, but he's upset that she did this alone; at least initially. She was saved, thankfully, but it might have been absolutely horrid and he feels his hearts constrict again. ]
The risk you took wasn't necessary, though. You should have called for me.
[ The thought that he could have easily lost her is making it difficult to parse through his own thoughts. ]
[ Should have? Her attention snaps back towards the Doctor, and the sandworm slowly lowers to stretch against the sand with a deep rumble. The impact is gentle, but still forces her to reach down for momentary balance before she suddenly finds her feet to stare down at him. ]
What could you have done?
[ Vanessa can understand his desire to find unique thrills with her. She shares that need to explore the universe with him, and this hadn't been a long-planned deceit on her part. She had been spontaneous and he hadn't been near at the time. Even still, it had felt like something she needed to attempt alone. A test for her will, for her magic, for her...power; which she is even less willing to admit for her lack of understanding.
That and her indignation drive her to harden her tone. She resents any implication that she should do anything; she resents his assumption that her power couldn't work (though she would agree it unlikely to work, in hindsight). ]
So I may have died. Suddenly. It was hungry, Doctor.
[ She squints, her resentment attempting to bait at his with her hard stare. Looming if he stays seated. If he stands at any point, she'll stay rooted no matter his reaction. ]
Towered high, ready to devour. Not even a strand of my hair would have been left.
[ Her head tilts, eyes unblinking. ]
All gone. You might not even know until the moon rose. And what could you have done to change it? Nothing.
[ Had he caught her in the moment of peril, the Doctor's emotions would have escalated quickly, his equilibrium unsteady, his rational thought teetering on the brink of collapse. What would he have done? He would have shouted, scolded her out of fearful desperation, put himself bodily between her and the great beast. He has no such magic like Wanda possesses, nothing close to Vanessa's skill—even if she still seeks full understanding of it—but how many times has he run headlong into danger and lived? The mere thought of it now may be delusional at best, but being separated from Vanessa at the point of her death brings a kind of pain upon him that he hasn't felt in years. Loss is familiar, painfully and dreadfully so, but this would be loss of another kind, one that he hasn't suffered through exactly like this ever before; loss of balance, certainty, completion, and her hand in the dark, her voice in the quiet. Loss of her would be a perpetual night with only its dreams of stars.
Would she curse him to such a fate?
There's an edge of cruelty to her words that's familiar and not at all unlike how he's lashed out himself before. She provokes him with such ease, beckoning forth images that could cut his hearts out with surgical precision. And how; because he's given her the power over him, the map and key. There's a reason he's been so careful all these years and he should have known better, perhaps. As he stands with her, the fear masked as anger that he feels tastes of honey and the love tastes like smoke, while his breath is suddenly too big to be held in his chest. Standing as close as he dares and she allows, his eyes search her face.
Wounded, he rises to the occasion. ]
A quick death, perhaps, or maybe not. Maybe the creature is slow, old. Maybe it would have taken its time. Maybe you would have called for me then, when I couldn't come, with your last breath. It could have hurt and I wouldn't have known, not right away at least, but later, much later and alone when I reached for your hand and you weren't there.
[ He's hurt, terrified, guarding himself. She wounds him and he fights back. But there's an intonation in his voice, a huskiness to his words that speaks of his escalating emotion and the nearness of his voice breaking entirely. ]
No finding of your bones, just a ghost, a memory. Were you here at all? Were you only a dream? Would I go mad just for the mercy of seeing your face one more time?
[ His jaw is set, tense, face looming close to hers. ]
What could I have done? Where would I ever, ever want to be but with you? Don't do this again, not without me.
[ Her imagination is vivid and to picture such a death for herself strikes a cold fear. To die unheard, slow enough to regret. Alone.
Of course it would hurt him the most. The description of his loneliness cuts her, shames her. She knows his fear and it's one she shares, along with his hope. Vanessa has seen and felt some of his greatest trials as if they had been her own, and she's lost breath when sharing his rapture. To dismiss the gravity of his concern is careless and she would never set out to do so with forethought. The Doctor hurts and she hurts with him, even as she wounds him now and he encourages the ricochet.
Her pain would go beyond death, no doubt. Heaven rejected her and she rejected Hell, so to the Doctor she has promised eternity. What would she have left to do but love him through the demimonde?
She doesn’t respond at first, with him close enough that she can hear the tremble in his breath and the terror behind the green of his eyes fills her vision as clear as if it were day. She regrets saying it the way she did, but he had to say it the way he did and now it's impossible for her to cower. She has catered to his fanciful orders before, but only when they suited her. This doesn’t. He makes demands while standing on one of her triumphs. If Wanda hadn't shown up? Might Vanessa have summoned magic she didn't know she had? She has surprised herself with discovering old memories more than once. She may have died. She may have not. ]
Vainglorious and mad with your demands. What right do you have?
[ It’s been brutal since leaving the inn for such unbearable travel. Even with the cooling suits on much of the time, the heat has been sapping her. She’s sore from the walking and her excursions. There's so much less privacy. Vanessa is...frustrated. ]
You cannot tell me how to die.
[ Something more volatile flickers in her glare, and this anger comes from his foolish thought of romance. To whisper about it together in the snow is a fancy, but this is reality, and while it's one thing to die to further the Doctor's cause, the reverse is not permitted in any reality. It is unfair, but Vanessa has rarely been fair with him. Even with heartbreak, he would have to live, as he always must. This goes beyond the sandworm. Her death is inevitable, whether it happens tomorrow or in fifty years. ]
Nor can you be allowed to die as you please, not even for me. And you couldn't want to if you have any thoughts in your head. You are too necessary.
A dark and humorless laugh falls from his lips, a shaky breath hanging in the air between them. She owes him nothing, in truth. He has no power to command her, no right to beg temperance of her. He has only the desperate hope of a man who's allowed the woman before him to become absolutely essential to his own existence. It was folly, he realizes now. Attachments aren't new to him, but one of this nature is. He can't tell her anything, demand anything, yet he'd hoped that everything building between them might be enough to allow the matter of his own hearts a consideration in her actions.
Clearly, he was wrong. He's been wrong about so much, it seems. Her death will come no matter what and he knows that, but in his moments alone, he's imagined so many possibilities for them. A way to keep her with him, in the far corners of the universe, an extension of her life. Hadn't they been together always, and shouldn't it remain so? Madness of a sort, and he's given himself over to it freely, for the sake of her affections.
She glares at him and the darkness only builds in his own eyes, contrasting with the bitter, false smile on his face. There's a thickness to his words now, as though they don't want to escape but must, and a sharp edge encircles them. ]
The Doctor must, the Doctor will, the Doctor needs...to go on and on and on, endlessly, without rest, without peace. For a moment—a moment—you gave me hope and now you taunt me with taking it away in the dead of night. I have no right to you, no claim, nothing at all? Not for a single breath would you consider how losing you would shatter me?
What I would do to anything or anyone that dared to take you— [ His voice raises sharply, nearly yelling, his jaw wobbling back and forth, his breaths unsteady, hearts beating erratically. ]
[ Her cruelty is a fine shield if he thinks she's that eager to abandon him without even a thought. Anything but. Hadn't she said she would live for him? Doesn’t she know how it would tear at him? She ought to stop him there and protest; she needs to correct him and apologize for letting him think such falsehoods for even a moment. But he demands, he orders, and she resents him for it while simultaneously urging him to fight harder. There is no sense to it, but that is the truth of her core. Primordial chaos masked in agonizing poise. What can anyone or anything be but lesser if they shrink when she bares her teeth?
She lifts her chin with eyes still narrowed, both furious and relieved for his proclamation, but what does he expect her to say? That she agrees? How could she? She doesn’t deny the desire; what she denies is the sense of it when he has so many loved ones still. For all his risk of potentially collapsing space, he has has saved so many that he will always have done more good than bad. Calamity was ever the only prophecy waiting for Vanessa. She isn’t only unnecessary, but ruinous, and she proves it even now.
Her voice stays low and weighted, pushing back with a dragging whisper that would find him even if he wasn’t less than a step away. ]
What? You would hunt and destroy a sandworm? I nearly fell when climbing the cliffs, as well. Would you have destroyed the cliffside for having stolen me?
[ She squints, glancing to the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his neck, and when she returns his gaze once more it’s with a barely contained struggle. ]
Or would you then intend to wrench me back from Death himself? Shall even he bend to the Doctor's will?
[ He knows otherwise, yet his hurt and worry leads him down a selfish path. He wants from her, continues to demand, and would insist on taking any assurance from her at all. He needs to hear it from her, that she won't leave him, that she would fight to stay with him as long as possible, that what they have—together—is essential. ]
All would. Don't you understand? Haven't I made it clear?
[ There's a fury in his eyes now, though it's not directed at her; rather, at anything at all in the universe that would dare to take her from him. ]
This— [ With his right hand, he waves in the air with no purpose, spinning his wrist in a loose circle, catching pockets of unseen air. ]
All of this— I would turn it to dust. I have. My name, the name I chose—Doctor, a healer, a wise man. You know me, you know I'm more than that, but you don't know everything.
[ He brings his right hand close, so swiftly that there's a whoosh sound in the air as his fingers curl into a tight fist, his jaw tensing again. ]
The Beast of Trenzalore, the Bringer of Darkness, the Butcher of Skull Moon, the Doctor of War, the Oncoming Storm, the Slaughterer of Ten Thousand Souls, the Vessel of the Final Darkness.
[ His voice raises and raises in pitch until his voice nearly breaks again and he thinks if he doesn't kiss her, he'll go mad in a way he can't come back from. ]
What would stop me from ever getting to you? Death? That small creature?
[ Another dark and humorless laugh falls from his lips, and then he attempts to reach for her hand again. In his irrational worry, he makes bold claims he has no right to; if the sandworm ate her, truly, he would have no recourse and they both know it. Though, he would have at least preferred the alternative, to die alongside her. ]
[ The worm has been slowly sinking into the sands with each heaving breath, the low rumble settling out into such a gentle rhythm that might just signal its slumber. By now it’s mostly submerged in the sand to leave them standing on a living oasis. It’s well and good that it seems undisturbed by their small voices, not to mention that they’ve wandered far enough that they don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing them, because she wouldn't want anyone else to hear him like this (only for her, for it). Though she has yet to raise her voice, the Doctor’s retorts could easily carry to camp if they had remained near the desert rose.
His penchant for theatrics can’t be overstated, but then here stands a woman who had taunted him with her sudden demise when he only had demanded to die alongside her. And he does have every right to it because she’s promised him everything, but it’s in her nature to resist until it pains both parties to the point of distress, only to give in just a little; to yield long enough that her will may be forsaken but not forgotten. It's her weakness and he knows it and she could strike him just for enticing her so readily like he always does. Even with his pain (especially).
He nearly lures her now with ugly claims—a love that would massacre innocents and make Death cower—and the heart of an old goddess beats faster, but Vanessa nearly flinches at the motion of his hand. It frightens her for him, even though she knows he doesn’t mean it in this reality. His words are just forbidden poetry, but that is how it might play out in his hearts, possibly for eternity. Some part of him deep down would want that destruction if it meant bringing her back into creation, and so might something dangerous that will echo beyond her death. That something has its own names and titles, but to be reminded of his is a surprise. Others gave him those names. He wouldn’t choose them, would he?
They have spoken long on how much of the universe they want to experience together, but to discuss what comes after has been too painful. Even as she glowers at him, her heart is pinched and her vision begins to blur. The show is subtle, but his words have been finding their mark all along. It’s no wonder she nearly kisses him for the reminder that they are both still alive and together...but instead she tugs her hand away as he reaches for it, then shoves at his chest with a huff of what feels like endless frustration. ]
You sound like him. And you are better than him—better than me.
[ Better because she might truly do everything he just threatened if he were to die first, even with the hearts of friends underfoot. He would be blind to her love to think her incapable of that kind of selfish devastation.
But if she died first and he couldn’t die with her then he must suffer for the sake of it, and they both know it. He loves too many here, and he could never commit a world with them to dust; perhaps except for weak moments in those dark dreams he would keep in his loneliness. In those dreams she might haunt him, but even there the love would be bittersweet. She can’t want him to take the form of such catastrophe, not for her sake. Then she truly would have been the one to bring cataclysm as foretold, and he would fulfill her prophecy instead of Lucifer.
That corrosion cannot be allowed, and whatever evil inside that desires those violent promises must be stifled. She needs to be more frightened of how easy it is to encourage such obsessions. ]
[ The moment the words leave him, he regrets. They feel acrid on his tongue and there's a sick feeling in his stomach when he recalls the reasons for those names, the destruction he'd left in his wake. He'd recited them to bait her, yes, but there's nothing approaching pride in his tone. There's a shame that swells in him equally, that he would repeat the names at all. Isn't he better than that? What's become of him? What has he allowed to happen? What would he do for her? Anything, anything.
That's the problem, isn't it? Or, is it? Is it, really? What could they do together? Chaos and destruction, or creation and hope. Can they be both? Can they, knowing the worst of each other, knowing the darkness that lurks and knowing the want for light—can they find that in the other, always? He wouldn't have thought himself capable of conjuring such thoughts at the mere idea of Vanessa's death, but here they stand and he is a desperate and selfish man to his core. Yet another reason he feared allowing himself to love, knowing the depths to which he would go for the one most important to him in the universe. There's no stopping the turn of the tide now; he belongs to her, for better or worse. It remains to be seen, what he will become through loving her, and vice versa, but he knows that he's never felt stronger or better than when she's by his side. The thought of losing that drives him mad.
But then she pushes at him, snaps him back from the brink of his own madness by comparing him to Lucifer, of all creatures. Perhaps they're not so dissimilar, and the notion of that haunts him for a moment. He wouldn't turn this world to dust, no, not for a moment. But to even suggest that he would—he can't be a good man for such thoughts, but then, he's never claimed to be a good man. Still, her words cut him—again—and as she stands there refusing him the simple mercy of her touch, the Doctor feels both conflicted and in agony over the denial of being close to her. ]
I'm better than no one. I'm not a good man, Vanessa, I just am. And I am not going to accept losing you to something like this. You said you would live for me, thrive for me. Say it, then, go on, tell me that was a lie. Tell me now, I want to hear it.
[ Purposefully, though, the Doctor reaches for her again, and his touch is more insistent. His hands seek out both of hers, intending to hold them tightly, deliberately wanting to be only inches apart from her again. No matter what's been said between them, she nearly died and the thought of it still terrifies him. He knows now, he understands, the reason that Amy chose to jump from the roof with Rory, to risk absolute oblivion; it was a small thing, really, and an obvious choice, to be with the one she loved most. He was angry and hurt and he hadn't understood at the time, but he knows it now, the emotions that turn rational thought sideways, the fear that comes from being parted. He needs to kiss her, touch her, hold her, reassure himself that she's whole and with him. And so, it's with only a moment more of hesitation that he pulls her close and crushes his lips to her with desperate and almost angry need, not even allowing her to respond. ]
[ For the barest moment, she considers humility when the Doctor reminds her of her promise and what led to it. They once spoke of that desolation at the end of the world—the end of time and space—and what it could mean if he held her hand as the universe died. Together they could wait for creation to begin anew.
None of that can happen if she dies here.
But again with his demands, and before she can even protest the idiotic suggestion that anything she had promised could be a lie, his kiss nearly staggers her back. Infuriating. Vainglorious and mad after all, even when he isn't threatening apocalypse. Any chance at apology is crushed beneath the force of the kiss that she returns with a biting frenzy. Vanessa struggles to tear her hands free of his grip so that she can grab at his shoulders, though her fingers dig to pull him closer as she bites his lower lip with intent.
The sandworm lets out a muffled bellow with sand spraying in the distance to signal the upcoming disturbance, and then it rolls just a foot or two to one side to re-settle. It's enough to knock Vanessa off balance, but she abuses the momentum to shove at the Doctor again, even if it takes her down with him. She grunts and her knees drop hard against scales that feel like brick even through her tangle of layers, but she barely seems to notice the jolt of pain before she grabs at his shoulders again and pins him beneath her. Vanessa hovers just out of reach even as her own frustration builds. ]
Is that what you want? Is it?
[ Is that just the barest hint of blood she licks from her own lips with a flicker of curiosity in her eye? The blood of gods tastes...different, and it elicits a squirm where she straddles him. ]
[ The problem with not allowing oneself to love another like this for over a thousand years is that when it happens, when he finally allows himself to feel all of it—everything that he's ever wanted yet denied himself—he is desperate, selfish, possessive and protective of her and everything that they are and could ever be. His behavior is erratic, dramatic, the fear of loss so intense as to drown him under the misery of his own inevitable loneliness.
How dare she risk herself like this, how dare she so callously parade the images of her death in front of him with the ease of a child taunting a schoolmate. He didn't hesitate to taunt her back, though, and that stirs something in him; the knowledge that he could be hurt by her, that he could hurt in return because they know each other well enough now, enough to know the ugliness and the beauty. Love cannot be real without both, without all—the ugly and the beautiful, the joy and pain, the want of eternity and the fear of loneliness that makes him hold so much tighter to her.
He tastes his own blood on his lower lip before he sees it on Vanessa's, and it thrills him all the more, the intensity of it, the depths to which they would go to have one another, to be with one another, to fight with and for the other. His hands move to rest against her hips, holding her firmly in place. ]
I want everything, Vanessa, everything with you. And I'm not letting go.
[ There's a brewing storm behind his eyes, a promise, a dare that she attempt to leave him now. ]
[ It's an outlandishly indistinct answer, but she understands the truth of it when she can only return the sentiment to a degree that might leave a cold sweat when really considered. How are they meant to have everything of one another and still share their love for the rest of the world? The world he threatened to destroy, as if he thought she would want that. Yet here she is excited by his desire and no matter the form it takes—sweet, bitter, sharp, soft—Vanessa wants everything, everything. His disregard for sense frees her own desires of any weighted shame, and that drives her forward even if it means getting burned by the sun.
Ire still sharpens her gaze, but she doesn't try to pull away. He holds her so fiercely that she wonders if she would have to claw at his hands to wrench them away, and the curiosity alone seems to tighten every muscle in her body. The guilty delight in his obsession brings her closer, and she coils over him with hunched shoulders and a predatory look. One hand drags over to his collar where two fingers can hook under his bowtie with a rough tug and a twist, tightening it around his neck only slightly, and she tastes the blood on his lip with a low growl and her own dare. ]
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Reaching for his hand, she'll lace their fingers together to be the one to pull him along this time. They are too near to camp for this, and although they have been warned against wandering far, she has little hesitation in pulling the Doctor along towards the massive dunes of sand. She's quiet, following her senses as she always does. Her footsteps may seem to wander, but they have a path that only she can feel.
Only she, at least, until the sand begins to tremble and sink from a massive creature burrowing deep beneath their feet. ]
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Still clinging to Vanessa's hand, the Doctor watches the ground with fascination, his eyes widening with burgeoning excitement. In a moment, it will click for him just how she knew to find this, to sense it, to...command it? Can she do so as she'd done in the labyrinth?
His mind is a flutter of possibility and anticipation, the worry trailing behind but catching up. The sand worms their Scavenger friends had spoken about, that he's seen bare glimpses of, and here it lies beneath their feet. ]
You can control it?
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It's expected that the Doctor would be excited at the thought of being in such proximity to these creatures, and she hopes that is plenty enough to distract him from any fleeting concerns that might be nagging on the outer reaches of his mind. ]
Hold on.
[ To her, yes, but also to the colossal sandworm that slowly begins to rise up beneath the tumbling sands. She'll take his hand and press it down between them to bury it in the cool sand as it sinks and they seem to descend with it. But before they can go too far to worry, the vibrations through the sand pick up to the point that the rumble can be felt deep into the bones, and the worn, rigid scales of a sand leviathan suddenly press up against their palms with heaving breaths like weighted thunder. The beast lifts them slowly, though a soft woosh of chilled air still tickles at the loose wisps of her braid on their ascension.
She is careful to observe his reaction, but Vanessa can't resist her own glance at the sight around them once the sandworm stops to loom in the night sky. It's captivating...though not as much as the feel of the creature underneath her. She is only sorry that it resents her control at times, but for now it seems willing enough. ]
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As they dip momentarily into the sand and then rise above it, he feels his hearts beat more rapidly, completely thrilled and captivated as he holds on carefully. That brief fall and lift remind him so much of the journeys he's taken across the stars, the exhilaration in defying gravity and walking the outer edges of black holes. There's a bright smile on his face now, his fingers very lightly stroking across the creature's scales. ]
Oh, you beauty. You big, magnificent beauty!
[ Briefly, the Doctor leans in close, resting his cheek to the worm's aged scales, wanting to experience and delight in every sensation he possibly can for the moment. The way it moves, the ripples of its breath beneath the surface of its skin, it's all extraordinary. Lost for a few minutes in appreciating the sandworm's very existence, it takes the Doctor a bit longer than usual to pivot back around. But then he lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed and focused on Vanessa. ]
How did you—tell me.
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Though how she had found herself in that moment is still difficult to describe. She casts her eyes down, not from shame but for the struggle of recollection. Vanessa's memory can be striking when recollecting most things, but anything relating to her has always been...unreliable. ]
He was calling out. Not to me, but I— Something in me heard the call and wanted to answer.
[ Something in me, she says, as if she can still distance herself; as if she doesn't know the name and truth of it. She is only possessing herself in those moments. What excuses are really left? Why does she bother? ]
He didn't much like the answer at first, I think, but... Miss Maximoff arrived just in time.
[ She moves to her knees and scoots back until she reveals the rune painted in her blood on one of the worm's scales, her fingertips caressing beneath the sigil. Whatever cut was on her palm has been healed, so it's no wonder he didn't know that she'd been up to any blood magic. ]
I was able to secure him with a spell while she held him in place. Her magic is something to behold, do you know? Though it strained her... I owe her my gratitude.
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Before he can say much in that regard, the Doctor's attention turns to the rune made with her blood, and he feels those hearts of his constrict painfully, when they'd been dancing with joy only a moment ago. ]
I owe her mine. Vanessa, this was dangerous, unnecessarily dangerous. She arrived just in time. And if she hadn't—
[ He's agitated now and he reaches for her hand, turning it over to look at where the cut would have been. Despite there being nothing to really see, he clings to her, his thumb moving across her palm. ]
Amunet—that part of you. It heard and wanted to respond but couldn't control the creature alone. What if something had happened to you?
[ His voice raises measurably, fraught with worry. What he's said implies she had any control over that within her, but he knows better despite what he's said. He's letting emotion rule over him at the moment, his logic overruled. ]
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I may have been able to control it. I wasn't given the chance. The sands, they—
[ They had shifted too quickly. She had misjudged her distance from the sandworm, but now she's reluctant to admit that mistake for her pride. With a scoff, Vanessa shakes her head and looks off to the side to try and dismiss his concerns, to try and turn his attention back to the view. ]
Nothing happened to me. And it was necessary. We need them, don't we?
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The risk you took wasn't necessary, though. You should have called for me.
[ The thought that he could have easily lost her is making it difficult to parse through his own thoughts. ]
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What could you have done?
[ Vanessa can understand his desire to find unique thrills with her. She shares that need to explore the universe with him, and this hadn't been a long-planned deceit on her part. She had been spontaneous and he hadn't been near at the time. Even still, it had felt like something she needed to attempt alone. A test for her will, for her magic, for her...power; which she is even less willing to admit for her lack of understanding.
That and her indignation drive her to harden her tone. She resents any implication that she should do anything; she resents his assumption that her power couldn't work (though she would agree it unlikely to work, in hindsight). ]
So I may have died. Suddenly. It was hungry, Doctor.
[ She squints, her resentment attempting to bait at his with her hard stare. Looming if he stays seated. If he stands at any point, she'll stay rooted no matter his reaction. ]
Towered high, ready to devour. Not even a strand of my hair would have been left.
[ Her head tilts, eyes unblinking. ]
All gone. You might not even know until the moon rose. And what could you have done to change it? Nothing.
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Would she curse him to such a fate?
There's an edge of cruelty to her words that's familiar and not at all unlike how he's lashed out himself before. She provokes him with such ease, beckoning forth images that could cut his hearts out with surgical precision. And how; because he's given her the power over him, the map and key. There's a reason he's been so careful all these years and he should have known better, perhaps. As he stands with her, the fear masked as anger that he feels tastes of honey and the love tastes like smoke, while his breath is suddenly too big to be held in his chest. Standing as close as he dares and she allows, his eyes search her face.
Wounded, he rises to the occasion. ]
A quick death, perhaps, or maybe not. Maybe the creature is slow, old. Maybe it would have taken its time. Maybe you would have called for me then, when I couldn't come, with your last breath. It could have hurt and I wouldn't have known, not right away at least, but later, much later and alone when I reached for your hand and you weren't there.
[ He's hurt, terrified, guarding himself. She wounds him and he fights back. But there's an intonation in his voice, a huskiness to his words that speaks of his escalating emotion and the nearness of his voice breaking entirely. ]
No finding of your bones, just a ghost, a memory. Were you here at all? Were you only a dream? Would I go mad just for the mercy of seeing your face one more time?
[ His jaw is set, tense, face looming close to hers. ]
What could I have done? Where would I ever, ever want to be but with you? Don't do this again, not without me.
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Of course it would hurt him the most. The description of his loneliness cuts her, shames her. She knows his fear and it's one she shares, along with his hope. Vanessa has seen and felt some of his greatest trials as if they had been her own, and she's lost breath when sharing his rapture. To dismiss the gravity of his concern is careless and she would never set out to do so with forethought. The Doctor hurts and she hurts with him, even as she wounds him now and he encourages the ricochet.
Her pain would go beyond death, no doubt. Heaven rejected her and she rejected Hell, so to the Doctor she has promised eternity. What would she have left to do but love him through the demimonde?
She doesn’t respond at first, with him close enough that she can hear the tremble in his breath and the terror behind the green of his eyes fills her vision as clear as if it were day. She regrets saying it the way she did, but he had to say it the way he did and now it's impossible for her to cower. She has catered to his fanciful orders before, but only when they suited her. This doesn’t. He makes demands while standing on one of her triumphs. If Wanda hadn't shown up? Might Vanessa have summoned magic she didn't know she had? She has surprised herself with discovering old memories more than once. She may have died. She may have not. ]
Vainglorious and mad with your demands. What right do you have?
[ It’s been brutal since leaving the inn for such unbearable travel. Even with the cooling suits on much of the time, the heat has been sapping her. She’s sore from the walking and her excursions. There's so much less privacy. Vanessa is...frustrated. ]
You cannot tell me how to die.
[ Something more volatile flickers in her glare, and this anger comes from his foolish thought of romance. To whisper about it together in the snow is a fancy, but this is reality, and while it's one thing to die to further the Doctor's cause, the reverse is not permitted in any reality. It is unfair, but Vanessa has rarely been fair with him. Even with heartbreak, he would have to live, as he always must. This goes beyond the sandworm. Her death is inevitable, whether it happens tomorrow or in fifty years. ]
Nor can you be allowed to die as you please, not even for me. And you couldn't want to if you have any thoughts in your head. You are too necessary.
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A dark and humorless laugh falls from his lips, a shaky breath hanging in the air between them. She owes him nothing, in truth. He has no power to command her, no right to beg temperance of her. He has only the desperate hope of a man who's allowed the woman before him to become absolutely essential to his own existence. It was folly, he realizes now. Attachments aren't new to him, but one of this nature is. He can't tell her anything, demand anything, yet he'd hoped that everything building between them might be enough to allow the matter of his own hearts a consideration in her actions.
Clearly, he was wrong. He's been wrong about so much, it seems. Her death will come no matter what and he knows that, but in his moments alone, he's imagined so many possibilities for them. A way to keep her with him, in the far corners of the universe, an extension of her life. Hadn't they been together always, and shouldn't it remain so? Madness of a sort, and he's given himself over to it freely, for the sake of her affections.
She glares at him and the darkness only builds in his own eyes, contrasting with the bitter, false smile on his face. There's a thickness to his words now, as though they don't want to escape but must, and a sharp edge encircles them. ]
The Doctor must, the Doctor will, the Doctor needs...to go on and on and on, endlessly, without rest, without peace. For a moment—a moment—you gave me hope and now you taunt me with taking it away in the dead of night. I have no right to you, no claim, nothing at all? Not for a single breath would you consider how losing you would shatter me?
What I would do to anything or anyone that dared to take you— [ His voice raises sharply, nearly yelling, his jaw wobbling back and forth, his breaths unsteady, hearts beating erratically. ]
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She lifts her chin with eyes still narrowed, both furious and relieved for his proclamation, but what does he expect her to say? That she agrees? How could she? She doesn’t deny the desire; what she denies is the sense of it when he has so many loved ones still. For all his risk of potentially collapsing space, he has has saved so many that he will always have done more good than bad. Calamity was ever the only prophecy waiting for Vanessa. She isn’t only unnecessary, but ruinous, and she proves it even now.
Her voice stays low and weighted, pushing back with a dragging whisper that would find him even if he wasn’t less than a step away. ]
What? You would hunt and destroy a sandworm? I nearly fell when climbing the cliffs, as well. Would you have destroyed the cliffside for having stolen me?
[ She squints, glancing to the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his neck, and when she returns his gaze once more it’s with a barely contained struggle. ]
Or would you then intend to wrench me back from Death himself? Shall even he bend to the Doctor's will?
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All would. Don't you understand? Haven't I made it clear?
[ There's a fury in his eyes now, though it's not directed at her; rather, at anything at all in the universe that would dare to take her from him. ]
This— [ With his right hand, he waves in the air with no purpose, spinning his wrist in a loose circle, catching pockets of unseen air. ]
All of this— I would turn it to dust. I have. My name, the name I chose—Doctor, a healer, a wise man. You know me, you know I'm more than that, but you don't know everything.
[ He brings his right hand close, so swiftly that there's a whoosh sound in the air as his fingers curl into a tight fist, his jaw tensing again. ]
The Beast of Trenzalore, the Bringer of Darkness, the Butcher of Skull Moon, the Doctor of War, the Oncoming Storm, the Slaughterer of Ten Thousand Souls, the Vessel of the Final Darkness.
[ His voice raises and raises in pitch until his voice nearly breaks again and he thinks if he doesn't kiss her, he'll go mad in a way he can't come back from. ]
What would stop me from ever getting to you? Death? That small creature?
[ Another dark and humorless laugh falls from his lips, and then he attempts to reach for her hand again. In his irrational worry, he makes bold claims he has no right to; if the sandworm ate her, truly, he would have no recourse and they both know it. Though, he would have at least preferred the alternative, to die alongside her. ]
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His penchant for theatrics can’t be overstated, but then here stands a woman who had taunted him with her sudden demise when he only had demanded to die alongside her. And he does have every right to it because she’s promised him everything, but it’s in her nature to resist until it pains both parties to the point of distress, only to give in just a little; to yield long enough that her will may be forsaken but not forgotten. It's her weakness and he knows it and she could strike him just for enticing her so readily like he always does. Even with his pain (especially).
He nearly lures her now with ugly claims—a love that would massacre innocents and make Death cower—and the heart of an old goddess beats faster, but Vanessa nearly flinches at the motion of his hand. It frightens her for him, even though she knows he doesn’t mean it in this reality. His words are just forbidden poetry, but that is how it might play out in his hearts, possibly for eternity. Some part of him deep down would want that destruction if it meant bringing her back into creation, and so might something dangerous that will echo beyond her death. That something has its own names and titles, but to be reminded of his is a surprise. Others gave him those names. He wouldn’t choose them, would he?
They have spoken long on how much of the universe they want to experience together, but to discuss what comes after has been too painful. Even as she glowers at him, her heart is pinched and her vision begins to blur. The show is subtle, but his words have been finding their mark all along. It’s no wonder she nearly kisses him for the reminder that they are both still alive and together...but instead she tugs her hand away as he reaches for it, then shoves at his chest with a huff of what feels like endless frustration. ]
You sound like him. And you are better than him—better than me.
[ Better because she might truly do everything he just threatened if he were to die first, even with the hearts of friends underfoot. He would be blind to her love to think her incapable of that kind of selfish devastation.
But if she died first and he couldn’t die with her then he must suffer for the sake of it, and they both know it. He loves too many here, and he could never commit a world with them to dust; perhaps except for weak moments in those dark dreams he would keep in his loneliness. In those dreams she might haunt him, but even there the love would be bittersweet. She can’t want him to take the form of such catastrophe, not for her sake. Then she truly would have been the one to bring cataclysm as foretold, and he would fulfill her prophecy instead of Lucifer.
That corrosion cannot be allowed, and whatever evil inside that desires those violent promises must be stifled. She needs to be more frightened of how easy it is to encourage such obsessions. ]
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That's the problem, isn't it? Or, is it? Is it, really? What could they do together? Chaos and destruction, or creation and hope. Can they be both? Can they, knowing the worst of each other, knowing the darkness that lurks and knowing the want for light—can they find that in the other, always? He wouldn't have thought himself capable of conjuring such thoughts at the mere idea of Vanessa's death, but here they stand and he is a desperate and selfish man to his core. Yet another reason he feared allowing himself to love, knowing the depths to which he would go for the one most important to him in the universe. There's no stopping the turn of the tide now; he belongs to her, for better or worse. It remains to be seen, what he will become through loving her, and vice versa, but he knows that he's never felt stronger or better than when she's by his side. The thought of losing that drives him mad.
But then she pushes at him, snaps him back from the brink of his own madness by comparing him to Lucifer, of all creatures. Perhaps they're not so dissimilar, and the notion of that haunts him for a moment. He wouldn't turn this world to dust, no, not for a moment. But to even suggest that he would—he can't be a good man for such thoughts, but then, he's never claimed to be a good man. Still, her words cut him—again—and as she stands there refusing him the simple mercy of her touch, the Doctor feels both conflicted and in agony over the denial of being close to her. ]
I'm better than no one. I'm not a good man, Vanessa, I just am. And I am not going to accept losing you to something like this. You said you would live for me, thrive for me. Say it, then, go on, tell me that was a lie. Tell me now, I want to hear it.
[ Purposefully, though, the Doctor reaches for her again, and his touch is more insistent. His hands seek out both of hers, intending to hold them tightly, deliberately wanting to be only inches apart from her again. No matter what's been said between them, she nearly died and the thought of it still terrifies him. He knows now, he understands, the reason that Amy chose to jump from the roof with Rory, to risk absolute oblivion; it was a small thing, really, and an obvious choice, to be with the one she loved most. He was angry and hurt and he hadn't understood at the time, but he knows it now, the emotions that turn rational thought sideways, the fear that comes from being parted. He needs to kiss her, touch her, hold her, reassure himself that she's whole and with him. And so, it's with only a moment more of hesitation that he pulls her close and crushes his lips to her with desperate and almost angry need, not even allowing her to respond. ]
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None of that can happen if she dies here.
But again with his demands, and before she can even protest the idiotic suggestion that anything she had promised could be a lie, his kiss nearly staggers her back. Infuriating. Vainglorious and mad after all, even when he isn't threatening apocalypse. Any chance at apology is crushed beneath the force of the kiss that she returns with a biting frenzy. Vanessa struggles to tear her hands free of his grip so that she can grab at his shoulders, though her fingers dig to pull him closer as she bites his lower lip with intent.
The sandworm lets out a muffled bellow with sand spraying in the distance to signal the upcoming disturbance, and then it rolls just a foot or two to one side to re-settle. It's enough to knock Vanessa off balance, but she abuses the momentum to shove at the Doctor again, even if it takes her down with him. She grunts and her knees drop hard against scales that feel like brick even through her tangle of layers, but she barely seems to notice the jolt of pain before she grabs at his shoulders again and pins him beneath her. Vanessa hovers just out of reach even as her own frustration builds. ]
Is that what you want? Is it?
[ Is that just the barest hint of blood she licks from her own lips with a flicker of curiosity in her eye? The blood of gods tastes...different, and it elicits a squirm where she straddles him. ]
Not this?
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How dare she risk herself like this, how dare she so callously parade the images of her death in front of him with the ease of a child taunting a schoolmate. He didn't hesitate to taunt her back, though, and that stirs something in him; the knowledge that he could be hurt by her, that he could hurt in return because they know each other well enough now, enough to know the ugliness and the beauty. Love cannot be real without both, without all—the ugly and the beautiful, the joy and pain, the want of eternity and the fear of loneliness that makes him hold so much tighter to her.
He tastes his own blood on his lower lip before he sees it on Vanessa's, and it thrills him all the more, the intensity of it, the depths to which they would go to have one another, to be with one another, to fight with and for the other. His hands move to rest against her hips, holding her firmly in place. ]
I want everything, Vanessa, everything with you. And I'm not letting go.
[ There's a brewing storm behind his eyes, a promise, a dare that she attempt to leave him now. ]
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Ire still sharpens her gaze, but she doesn't try to pull away. He holds her so fiercely that she wonders if she would have to claw at his hands to wrench them away, and the curiosity alone seems to tighten every muscle in her body. The guilty delight in his obsession brings her closer, and she coils over him with hunched shoulders and a predatory look. One hand drags over to his collar where two fingers can hook under his bowtie with a rough tug and a twist, tightening it around his neck only slightly, and she tastes the blood on his lip with a low growl and her own dare. ]
You want everything? Take it.
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INTERVIEWER: What are you going to do after you enthrall this sandworm?
THE DOCTOR: We're going to Disneyland!