[ 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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no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
INTERVIEWER: What are you going to do after you enthrall this sandworm?
THE DOCTOR: We're going to Disneyland!