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Entry tags:
crossover fic: A Rainy Evening During Which Sophie Has an Encounter Regarding Hair Color
disclaimer: neither are mine
fandoms: Howl's Moving Castle (bookverse), Doctor Who (newskool)
characters: Sophie, Ten
rating: PG for mild violence? and large amounts of silliness
notes: this is what happens when your roommate is re-reading HMC, and says to you "I'd forgotten Sophie turned him ginger." which then results in both of you giggling about how the Doctor has always wanted to be ginger and failed. Because it leads to madness. And this.
A Rainy Evening During Which Sophie Has an Encounter Regarding Hair Color and the Proper Response to an Invitation
by ALC Punk!
He blew into Market Chipping like a bad wind, arriving with a horrible grinding noise heard halfway across town. Most people simply attributed it to more of the Wizard Howl's nonsense (though a few suspected it could be his wife who was at fault, despite her lovely, sensible demeanor).
With a howl of wind and rain, he fetched up against Sophie's door, pounding fit to burst ear-drums.
Sophie put down the hat she had been fiddling with (even as an old married lady, she still enjoyed a hat or two, though she was careful never to let them turn her into a grey girl again), and with a sigh headed for the door.
This sort of thing normally presaged a summons by the King or Suliman (the King's wizard), or one of the market children come to try their luck with the Evil Wizard and his wife.
"Hallo," said the rather miserable-looking and drenched young man on her doorstep. "I hear you do ginger."
Sophie was quite taken aback, but far worse things had never discomfited her, so she merely raised an eyebrow, "You've heard that, have you? And from whom?"
"Oh, here and there--" he shifted, the rain in his trainers squelching a bit.
"Did you stomp through every puddle on your way?" she inquired, still not letting him in. That was usually a mistake in cases like these.
A bright smile flashed across his lips and he was rather less woebegone, "They were lovely puddles, and I just couldn't resist."
"Quite." Never had Sophie felt more like an old biddy, dampening the pretensions of young men. Still, there was something to be said for sensibility and making sense of things. She raised both of her brows and gave him a stare that had, on more than one occasion, sent her husband scurrying for cover. "And why are you stomping through puddles and causing gossip in Market Chipping, young man?"
"Oh, I'm not young--quite old, in fact." A rueful grin touched his lips, "And it appears I've forgotten my manners." He reached out a hand to her, "I'm the Doctor, and I've come to beg your services on a matter of somewhat grave importance."
Sophie mis-liked the look in his eyes. It reminded her of her husband when he was at his worst slither-outery. She didn't shake his hand. "And what might that be?" She knew the rules of the world; agreeing to his request without discovering its nature was as good as swearing to comply with it. For all she knew, he wanted her to assassinate the king. And that simply wouldn't do.
"As it happens," he said, looking down a bit and scuffing his trainer against the doorstep, "I've always wanted to be ginger. And I've heard tell that you have a way with hair dye. Now, I've tried a few times, but nothing ever seems to stay."
"Hair dye," replied Sophie, her voice failing her for a moment. "You're here about hair dye?"
"Yes," that grin was back, beaming all the way up to his eyes.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm not a barber, young man."
"Doctor, please. And I know. But you do have a way with hair--and hats, too, I've heard."
There was something sly about the look in his eyes again, but Sophie couldn't deny he was right, to some extent, "The hair was an accident, as it happens." And then she relented, going against her better judgment for reasons she could never later recall, "Would you at least like some tea while I consider the matter?"
"Splendid!" He beamed again, reaching out to take the doorknob from her hands and step inside. "Oh, dear, what is--" he turned, looking at the back of the door, his eyes following it up to the top where the knob was currently purple-blob down, "It's an old interdimensional matrix. I haven't seen one of these since my internship in the dimensional office on Gallifrey. My, my my. I didn't even think they could be configured properly anymore."
His words made only a little sense, but Sophie understood the general gist-- "You're a wizard, too?" she asked, turning away to head across the stone floor and have a chat with Calcifer about the water that needed boiling.
"Well, not precisely, but I suppose here--" He fiddled with the door, shutting it and reaching up to turn the knob and opening it again. Like a small child playing with a pin-wheel, watching as it caught the breeze. "This is really quite extraordinary. Really."
Sophie looked over her shoulder and said, rather too-sharply, "Come away from there."
He turned to look at her, the door open to the black curtain that demarcated Wales from everywhere else, "This really shouldn't work, you know. Transcendental chicanery isn't something to muck about with."
"It works just fine," she retorted, then added under her breath, "As long as idiots aren't messing about with it."
Calcifer, peering out of the grate (he'd come in from the rain, complaining about bones he didn't have aching), cackled at the Doctor. A cackling fire was quite enough to distract the Doctor from the door and its knob and he came across the stone in a rush, dropping to his knees and staring at Calcifer with that same curiosity and wonder. "Hallo, what are you?"
"He's a fire demon," Sophie replied, deciding it was simply more practical to humor him. "And if he'll move a bit, I'll give him another log so the water will boil."
"Demon? Surely not, they don't exist." At the look Sophie cast him, he appeared to relent, "All right, perhaps they do, though I don't believe in an instant in a supernatural explanation. They're probably simply an alien species that got mis-cataloged."
Sophie snorted and bent to put the kettle on its hook before swinging it in. Calcifer made a hissing noise before she added another log which made him glow a happier color and settle down.
"Things need their proper names," said Sophie, "Is that what you mean?" She took the Doctor's elbow, guiding him to the table where he absently sat on the bench and rummaged in his pockets while watching Calcifer shift and wriggle about under the kettle.
"Well, something like that, yes."
"It's the same in wizardry, without the correct name for something, you're as likely to turn yourself into a newt as convince the rain to shift a bit so the drought ceases."
"That's very interesting," said the Doctor, and it was clear that he meant it.
Sophie was about to expand, seeing that the Doctor might appreciate a lecture when a sound came from outside the Market Chipping window. There was a banging on the door, louder than the Doctor had caused. She moved to it, reaching up to turn it purple-blob down.
"I wouldn't do that," the Doctor said, his voice soft with warning.
"Wouldn't you?" Annoyed, but careful nonetheless, Sophie opened the door, sheltering behind it, and peered out.
It was still raining the drops splashing into puddles and fracturing up into the air in what could have been a lovely display had the sun been out. Since it wasn't, it was merely dismal, though the two warriors standing on her doorstep didn't seem to notice the rain.
"The Doctor," hissed the one in front, "Where is he?"
The sibilants made the words a bit difficult to understand, but Sophie worked out the gist, "Whatever are you, and why ever would you want him?"
"We know that he is here, we located him with our tracking device," replied the warrior in the lead.
Drawing herself up, Sophie stared down her nose at them (a nice feat for someone at least a foot shorter) and said in quite austere tones, "I'm afraid he is not at liberty to see anyone. However, if you would like, I can take a message and give it to him."
A lesser creature would have been cowed. These warriors even seemed to pause a moment to consider their response. Nevertheless, the one in the lead replied with authority, "You will give us access to the Doctor. Now."
"I think not. I think you should go home," said Sophie, her words having a peculiar emphasis on them.
Sophie had a talent, or so they say, of talking things round to her way of thinking. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that it failed to work on the warriors, though she was a bit disgruntled about it.
"That won't work I'm afraid," said the Doctor, catching the door from her hands and slamming it closed.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, reaching for the knob."
"Locking them out."
"We can't simply leave them in Market Chipping," Sophie informed him. She frowned at him, "What are they, anyway?"
"I was certain I'd lost them," he replied, staring at the closed door for a moment. Then, seeming to catch her question, he added, "Ice Warriors, from the planet Mars. Though these two appear to be mercenaries in the hire of someone looking to find me. And very good they are, too."
"They can't be that good," said Sophie, her tone scornful, "You don't seem to be very good at hiding."
"Yes, well, it's all in the appearances, you see," he flashed her his grin and yanked open the door before the Ice Warriors could do whatever it was they'd been planning with their rather odd, hand-held devices. "You are here for me, aren't you? No one else?"
"The warrant requests the presence of the Doctor," replied the one in the lead.
"Aw, I've always preferred those to invitations. Less formal occasions, after all," he confided to Sophie, hustling her out and past them into the rain.
Sophie glared a bit at him, and the rain, but followed his lead for the moment, recognizing she might be out of her depth. Might. Fetch her a broom and she might treat the Ice Warriors as she had the rats found in the scullery last week.
"You will come with us, Doctor."
"Now, Sophie, when I say to run, run--" The Doctor turned and waved at the Ice Warriors, "I'm afraid I can't right now, in fact I've got to--RUN!"
Really, it wasn't the most intelligent of plans. But Sophie gave a sigh and went with it, picking up one side of her skirts and grasping his hand and running. She spared a wistful thought for the seven league boots still lurking in a cupboard, but kept up admirably as they turned several corners, the sound of the clomping boots slowly falling behind.
"Where do they want to take you?" She asked as they ducked around another corner and into an alley, pausing to lean against the bricks to catch their breath.
What anyone watching them in Market Chipping might think, she was rather loathe to guess.
"Usually invitations like that are about executions, not royal pardons," replied the Doctor, peering around the corner. "And since being dead has never been a favorite pastime of mine."
Sophie had guess right about his slithery qualities, she narrowed her eyes at him, "You ought to face up to whatever it is you've done."
"Oh, I've done a lot of things," he said, suddenly quiet and grave. "And I don't think any of them were misguided. Some might have been a bit wrong... but in the end..." he glanced away and around the corner again, "The Ice Warriors are probably still collecting on an old grievance about Peladon, honestly. And I'd rather not try to explain again that I wasn't there."
"But you were," Sophie guessed.
"Well, sort of," he hemmed.
Sophie could feel a headache coming on and regretted immensely letting him pull her from her house where she'd been safe, warm, and about to have tea. It occurred to her that the kettle might boil dry, which would be rather annoying. "Why don't you ask why they're stalking you?"
The Doctor gave her a look that seemed to ask about the level of her intelligence and shook his head, "I don't know why that never occurred to me."
"You don't have to be sarcastic--" Sophie snapped, pushing past him and looking out into the street, "Will they hurt anyone in Market Chipping?"
"I shouldn't think so. They're not evil, just determined. And they do have a bit of nobility about them," he mused, chin jutting out a little as his eyes went distant. "Maybe they really aren't here for a bad reason."
Sophie came to a decision and stepped out into the open, walking up the steps to the nearest house and knocking politely.
An older woman, a Mrs. Swinton who frequented Cesari's when it suited her, came to the door, peering at Sophie with a combination of distrust and concern. "Yes, Mrs. Wizard?"
"It's Sophie, please," said Sophie. She was becoming rather weary of peoples' distrust for something so silly and simple as magic, though she had to admit, Howl had started the problem with his ridiculous stories about girls' stolen hearts. So she smiled sweetly as she made her request, "I was wondering if I might borrow your broom?"
"Why whatever for?" asked Mrs. Swinton, though she turned and bustled away, returning shortly with her broom, "You'll not be magicking it, will you?"
"It was not a plan of mine, no," Sophie gave her the sort of smile she used to give buyers in the hat shop and stepped back, "I'll see it's returned to you later."
Leaving Mrs. Swinton watching from her stoop, Sophie marched past where the Doctor was still hiding and began retracing their steps. It didn't take her long to find the Ice Warriors, still moving rather slowly. She spared a thought for the curiosity they represented, then turned to more practical matters.
"Why do you want the Doctor?" Sophie asked, settling the bristles of the broom on the street in front of her.
"That information is privileged," the Ice Warrior informed her frostily.
"How very sad. Are you sure you can't tell me? Perhaps it's to do with your home." This time, Sophie could feel the magic--it was a tricky thing, magic, sometimes, it refused to do as you ordered. But it was there now, humming under her words and waiting. "Where is your home, by the way?"
For some reason, the Ice Warrior replied, though there might have been rather a small struggle. As though he weren't used to being compelled to discuss matters outside aliens' purview. "Mars. A small province in the--" he emitted a series of hisses and trills that Sophie could make little sense of, but seemed to conform to some sort of geography, "--region."
"And does the sun shine there a lot, or does your home get as much rain as Market Chipping?" Somewhere, she was certain, the Doctor was slithering his way to safety, leaving her to deal with the Ice Warriors. She was rather used to that, though Howl could double-cross himself into heroics on occasion.
"It does not rain on Mars," the Ice Warrior admitted. He held out a strangely-shaped hand, catching drops of rain in it for a moment. "Rain is cold."
"Market Chipping isn't exactly prepared for Martian delegates," Sophie noted almost idly. "Perhaps your consulate could send us word the next time a visit is planned? We do so love politely-worded correspondence."
It wasn't easy to tell, but Sophie was very certain the the Ice Warriors were both now very confused. "We would never see the need for an ambassador," began the one who seemed to be in charge.
"No ambassador?!" Sophie gave a soft gasp, "How insulting. I suggest you consider leaving."
The air vibrated for a moment, but she could tell it wasn't quite enough. She would simply have to keep them talking longer. Pulling from Fanny's repertoire, she glared down her nose again at them, "This is really the outside of enough. Market Chipping not deserving of a Martian Embassy? Fah! I say."
Apparently having finally had enough of her, the Ice Warrior raised his hand and the device (quite probably a weapon of some sort), and growled, "Enough. Where is the Doctor?"
"Why, so you can take him home with you?" Sophie demanded. The air shimmered a little, and she had the feeling that perhaps now it was enough, "I'm afraid that's not possible. You are going to go home and leave Market Chipping forever."
This time, the shimmer changed to a strange vortex for an instant, and then there was a pop and the rain came down harder.
Sophie glanced down at the broom, dismayed to discover that using it to channel such forces had singed the bristles. Mrs. Swinton would not be pleased.
"Oh, it worked!" The Doctor popped out from nowhere, and grinned cheerfully at her, a long instrument in one hand and what looked suspiciously like the knob above Sophie's door in the other. "I wasn't sure it would, toying with this sort of thing is rather tricky, after all, but--"
"Be quiet," Sophie suggested as she reached up and shoved her sopping-wet hair off of her forehead. She held out a hand, "Howl is going to be very displeased about this, you know. It took him a great deal of effort to get that thing working the last time. Heaven knows what he'll say now. And what about Mrs. Swinton's broom?" She shook it at him, "I can't very well explain to her that it was used in a dangerous experiment, now can I?"
"Ah, well, you could buy her another?" he suggested, relinquishing the knob with only a little bit of reluctance.
"I could, I suppose, yes," said Sophie, fairly certain that sarcasm did not become her.
"Look, the Ice Warriors are gone," the Doctor pointed out, as though that made all the difference. "And if you want, I can leave..."
He sounded as though he wanted to stay. Sophie drew herself up and stared down her nose at him, ignoring the rain dripping off of it. "If you please, Doctor, I think Market Chipping has had quite enough of you."
"Not even... The hair..." he gestured up at his dripping-wet head of rather plain and boring brown hair.
Explaining the broom and the knob would take quite a bit of effort, and Howl would be certain to pester her about them for weeks. Feeling spiteful, Sophie snapped, "You'll not be ginger for another two lifetimes, Doctor!"
And that was that, really. He gave her a rather mournful look and then turned and walked away. Sophie headed back for the place that was her home and barely flinched when the strange wheezing groan spiraled up into the rain and dissipated with a wet thump. "A broom," she muttered to the broom, "I'm going to have to buy a broom tomorrow."
Still, Calcifer had probably not boiled the kettle dry just yet, if he wanted a biscuit or two. Which meant tea.
Perhaps things were looking up.
-f-
fandoms: Howl's Moving Castle (bookverse), Doctor Who (newskool)
characters: Sophie, Ten
rating: PG for mild violence? and large amounts of silliness
notes: this is what happens when your roommate is re-reading HMC, and says to you "I'd forgotten Sophie turned him ginger." which then results in both of you giggling about how the Doctor has always wanted to be ginger and failed. Because it leads to madness. And this.
A Rainy Evening During Which Sophie Has an Encounter Regarding Hair Color and the Proper Response to an Invitation
by ALC Punk!
He blew into Market Chipping like a bad wind, arriving with a horrible grinding noise heard halfway across town. Most people simply attributed it to more of the Wizard Howl's nonsense (though a few suspected it could be his wife who was at fault, despite her lovely, sensible demeanor).
With a howl of wind and rain, he fetched up against Sophie's door, pounding fit to burst ear-drums.
Sophie put down the hat she had been fiddling with (even as an old married lady, she still enjoyed a hat or two, though she was careful never to let them turn her into a grey girl again), and with a sigh headed for the door.
This sort of thing normally presaged a summons by the King or Suliman (the King's wizard), or one of the market children come to try their luck with the Evil Wizard and his wife.
"Hallo," said the rather miserable-looking and drenched young man on her doorstep. "I hear you do ginger."
Sophie was quite taken aback, but far worse things had never discomfited her, so she merely raised an eyebrow, "You've heard that, have you? And from whom?"
"Oh, here and there--" he shifted, the rain in his trainers squelching a bit.
"Did you stomp through every puddle on your way?" she inquired, still not letting him in. That was usually a mistake in cases like these.
A bright smile flashed across his lips and he was rather less woebegone, "They were lovely puddles, and I just couldn't resist."
"Quite." Never had Sophie felt more like an old biddy, dampening the pretensions of young men. Still, there was something to be said for sensibility and making sense of things. She raised both of her brows and gave him a stare that had, on more than one occasion, sent her husband scurrying for cover. "And why are you stomping through puddles and causing gossip in Market Chipping, young man?"
"Oh, I'm not young--quite old, in fact." A rueful grin touched his lips, "And it appears I've forgotten my manners." He reached out a hand to her, "I'm the Doctor, and I've come to beg your services on a matter of somewhat grave importance."
Sophie mis-liked the look in his eyes. It reminded her of her husband when he was at his worst slither-outery. She didn't shake his hand. "And what might that be?" She knew the rules of the world; agreeing to his request without discovering its nature was as good as swearing to comply with it. For all she knew, he wanted her to assassinate the king. And that simply wouldn't do.
"As it happens," he said, looking down a bit and scuffing his trainer against the doorstep, "I've always wanted to be ginger. And I've heard tell that you have a way with hair dye. Now, I've tried a few times, but nothing ever seems to stay."
"Hair dye," replied Sophie, her voice failing her for a moment. "You're here about hair dye?"
"Yes," that grin was back, beaming all the way up to his eyes.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm not a barber, young man."
"Doctor, please. And I know. But you do have a way with hair--and hats, too, I've heard."
There was something sly about the look in his eyes again, but Sophie couldn't deny he was right, to some extent, "The hair was an accident, as it happens." And then she relented, going against her better judgment for reasons she could never later recall, "Would you at least like some tea while I consider the matter?"
"Splendid!" He beamed again, reaching out to take the doorknob from her hands and step inside. "Oh, dear, what is--" he turned, looking at the back of the door, his eyes following it up to the top where the knob was currently purple-blob down, "It's an old interdimensional matrix. I haven't seen one of these since my internship in the dimensional office on Gallifrey. My, my my. I didn't even think they could be configured properly anymore."
His words made only a little sense, but Sophie understood the general gist-- "You're a wizard, too?" she asked, turning away to head across the stone floor and have a chat with Calcifer about the water that needed boiling.
"Well, not precisely, but I suppose here--" He fiddled with the door, shutting it and reaching up to turn the knob and opening it again. Like a small child playing with a pin-wheel, watching as it caught the breeze. "This is really quite extraordinary. Really."
Sophie looked over her shoulder and said, rather too-sharply, "Come away from there."
He turned to look at her, the door open to the black curtain that demarcated Wales from everywhere else, "This really shouldn't work, you know. Transcendental chicanery isn't something to muck about with."
"It works just fine," she retorted, then added under her breath, "As long as idiots aren't messing about with it."
Calcifer, peering out of the grate (he'd come in from the rain, complaining about bones he didn't have aching), cackled at the Doctor. A cackling fire was quite enough to distract the Doctor from the door and its knob and he came across the stone in a rush, dropping to his knees and staring at Calcifer with that same curiosity and wonder. "Hallo, what are you?"
"He's a fire demon," Sophie replied, deciding it was simply more practical to humor him. "And if he'll move a bit, I'll give him another log so the water will boil."
"Demon? Surely not, they don't exist." At the look Sophie cast him, he appeared to relent, "All right, perhaps they do, though I don't believe in an instant in a supernatural explanation. They're probably simply an alien species that got mis-cataloged."
Sophie snorted and bent to put the kettle on its hook before swinging it in. Calcifer made a hissing noise before she added another log which made him glow a happier color and settle down.
"Things need their proper names," said Sophie, "Is that what you mean?" She took the Doctor's elbow, guiding him to the table where he absently sat on the bench and rummaged in his pockets while watching Calcifer shift and wriggle about under the kettle.
"Well, something like that, yes."
"It's the same in wizardry, without the correct name for something, you're as likely to turn yourself into a newt as convince the rain to shift a bit so the drought ceases."
"That's very interesting," said the Doctor, and it was clear that he meant it.
Sophie was about to expand, seeing that the Doctor might appreciate a lecture when a sound came from outside the Market Chipping window. There was a banging on the door, louder than the Doctor had caused. She moved to it, reaching up to turn it purple-blob down.
"I wouldn't do that," the Doctor said, his voice soft with warning.
"Wouldn't you?" Annoyed, but careful nonetheless, Sophie opened the door, sheltering behind it, and peered out.
It was still raining the drops splashing into puddles and fracturing up into the air in what could have been a lovely display had the sun been out. Since it wasn't, it was merely dismal, though the two warriors standing on her doorstep didn't seem to notice the rain.
"The Doctor," hissed the one in front, "Where is he?"
The sibilants made the words a bit difficult to understand, but Sophie worked out the gist, "Whatever are you, and why ever would you want him?"
"We know that he is here, we located him with our tracking device," replied the warrior in the lead.
Drawing herself up, Sophie stared down her nose at them (a nice feat for someone at least a foot shorter) and said in quite austere tones, "I'm afraid he is not at liberty to see anyone. However, if you would like, I can take a message and give it to him."
A lesser creature would have been cowed. These warriors even seemed to pause a moment to consider their response. Nevertheless, the one in the lead replied with authority, "You will give us access to the Doctor. Now."
"I think not. I think you should go home," said Sophie, her words having a peculiar emphasis on them.
Sophie had a talent, or so they say, of talking things round to her way of thinking. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that it failed to work on the warriors, though she was a bit disgruntled about it.
"That won't work I'm afraid," said the Doctor, catching the door from her hands and slamming it closed.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, reaching for the knob."
"Locking them out."
"We can't simply leave them in Market Chipping," Sophie informed him. She frowned at him, "What are they, anyway?"
"I was certain I'd lost them," he replied, staring at the closed door for a moment. Then, seeming to catch her question, he added, "Ice Warriors, from the planet Mars. Though these two appear to be mercenaries in the hire of someone looking to find me. And very good they are, too."
"They can't be that good," said Sophie, her tone scornful, "You don't seem to be very good at hiding."
"Yes, well, it's all in the appearances, you see," he flashed her his grin and yanked open the door before the Ice Warriors could do whatever it was they'd been planning with their rather odd, hand-held devices. "You are here for me, aren't you? No one else?"
"The warrant requests the presence of the Doctor," replied the one in the lead.
"Aw, I've always preferred those to invitations. Less formal occasions, after all," he confided to Sophie, hustling her out and past them into the rain.
Sophie glared a bit at him, and the rain, but followed his lead for the moment, recognizing she might be out of her depth. Might. Fetch her a broom and she might treat the Ice Warriors as she had the rats found in the scullery last week.
"You will come with us, Doctor."
"Now, Sophie, when I say to run, run--" The Doctor turned and waved at the Ice Warriors, "I'm afraid I can't right now, in fact I've got to--RUN!"
Really, it wasn't the most intelligent of plans. But Sophie gave a sigh and went with it, picking up one side of her skirts and grasping his hand and running. She spared a wistful thought for the seven league boots still lurking in a cupboard, but kept up admirably as they turned several corners, the sound of the clomping boots slowly falling behind.
"Where do they want to take you?" She asked as they ducked around another corner and into an alley, pausing to lean against the bricks to catch their breath.
What anyone watching them in Market Chipping might think, she was rather loathe to guess.
"Usually invitations like that are about executions, not royal pardons," replied the Doctor, peering around the corner. "And since being dead has never been a favorite pastime of mine."
Sophie had guess right about his slithery qualities, she narrowed her eyes at him, "You ought to face up to whatever it is you've done."
"Oh, I've done a lot of things," he said, suddenly quiet and grave. "And I don't think any of them were misguided. Some might have been a bit wrong... but in the end..." he glanced away and around the corner again, "The Ice Warriors are probably still collecting on an old grievance about Peladon, honestly. And I'd rather not try to explain again that I wasn't there."
"But you were," Sophie guessed.
"Well, sort of," he hemmed.
Sophie could feel a headache coming on and regretted immensely letting him pull her from her house where she'd been safe, warm, and about to have tea. It occurred to her that the kettle might boil dry, which would be rather annoying. "Why don't you ask why they're stalking you?"
The Doctor gave her a look that seemed to ask about the level of her intelligence and shook his head, "I don't know why that never occurred to me."
"You don't have to be sarcastic--" Sophie snapped, pushing past him and looking out into the street, "Will they hurt anyone in Market Chipping?"
"I shouldn't think so. They're not evil, just determined. And they do have a bit of nobility about them," he mused, chin jutting out a little as his eyes went distant. "Maybe they really aren't here for a bad reason."
Sophie came to a decision and stepped out into the open, walking up the steps to the nearest house and knocking politely.
An older woman, a Mrs. Swinton who frequented Cesari's when it suited her, came to the door, peering at Sophie with a combination of distrust and concern. "Yes, Mrs. Wizard?"
"It's Sophie, please," said Sophie. She was becoming rather weary of peoples' distrust for something so silly and simple as magic, though she had to admit, Howl had started the problem with his ridiculous stories about girls' stolen hearts. So she smiled sweetly as she made her request, "I was wondering if I might borrow your broom?"
"Why whatever for?" asked Mrs. Swinton, though she turned and bustled away, returning shortly with her broom, "You'll not be magicking it, will you?"
"It was not a plan of mine, no," Sophie gave her the sort of smile she used to give buyers in the hat shop and stepped back, "I'll see it's returned to you later."
Leaving Mrs. Swinton watching from her stoop, Sophie marched past where the Doctor was still hiding and began retracing their steps. It didn't take her long to find the Ice Warriors, still moving rather slowly. She spared a thought for the curiosity they represented, then turned to more practical matters.
"Why do you want the Doctor?" Sophie asked, settling the bristles of the broom on the street in front of her.
"That information is privileged," the Ice Warrior informed her frostily.
"How very sad. Are you sure you can't tell me? Perhaps it's to do with your home." This time, Sophie could feel the magic--it was a tricky thing, magic, sometimes, it refused to do as you ordered. But it was there now, humming under her words and waiting. "Where is your home, by the way?"
For some reason, the Ice Warrior replied, though there might have been rather a small struggle. As though he weren't used to being compelled to discuss matters outside aliens' purview. "Mars. A small province in the--" he emitted a series of hisses and trills that Sophie could make little sense of, but seemed to conform to some sort of geography, "--region."
"And does the sun shine there a lot, or does your home get as much rain as Market Chipping?" Somewhere, she was certain, the Doctor was slithering his way to safety, leaving her to deal with the Ice Warriors. She was rather used to that, though Howl could double-cross himself into heroics on occasion.
"It does not rain on Mars," the Ice Warrior admitted. He held out a strangely-shaped hand, catching drops of rain in it for a moment. "Rain is cold."
"Market Chipping isn't exactly prepared for Martian delegates," Sophie noted almost idly. "Perhaps your consulate could send us word the next time a visit is planned? We do so love politely-worded correspondence."
It wasn't easy to tell, but Sophie was very certain the the Ice Warriors were both now very confused. "We would never see the need for an ambassador," began the one who seemed to be in charge.
"No ambassador?!" Sophie gave a soft gasp, "How insulting. I suggest you consider leaving."
The air vibrated for a moment, but she could tell it wasn't quite enough. She would simply have to keep them talking longer. Pulling from Fanny's repertoire, she glared down her nose again at them, "This is really the outside of enough. Market Chipping not deserving of a Martian Embassy? Fah! I say."
Apparently having finally had enough of her, the Ice Warrior raised his hand and the device (quite probably a weapon of some sort), and growled, "Enough. Where is the Doctor?"
"Why, so you can take him home with you?" Sophie demanded. The air shimmered a little, and she had the feeling that perhaps now it was enough, "I'm afraid that's not possible. You are going to go home and leave Market Chipping forever."
This time, the shimmer changed to a strange vortex for an instant, and then there was a pop and the rain came down harder.
Sophie glanced down at the broom, dismayed to discover that using it to channel such forces had singed the bristles. Mrs. Swinton would not be pleased.
"Oh, it worked!" The Doctor popped out from nowhere, and grinned cheerfully at her, a long instrument in one hand and what looked suspiciously like the knob above Sophie's door in the other. "I wasn't sure it would, toying with this sort of thing is rather tricky, after all, but--"
"Be quiet," Sophie suggested as she reached up and shoved her sopping-wet hair off of her forehead. She held out a hand, "Howl is going to be very displeased about this, you know. It took him a great deal of effort to get that thing working the last time. Heaven knows what he'll say now. And what about Mrs. Swinton's broom?" She shook it at him, "I can't very well explain to her that it was used in a dangerous experiment, now can I?"
"Ah, well, you could buy her another?" he suggested, relinquishing the knob with only a little bit of reluctance.
"I could, I suppose, yes," said Sophie, fairly certain that sarcasm did not become her.
"Look, the Ice Warriors are gone," the Doctor pointed out, as though that made all the difference. "And if you want, I can leave..."
He sounded as though he wanted to stay. Sophie drew herself up and stared down her nose at him, ignoring the rain dripping off of it. "If you please, Doctor, I think Market Chipping has had quite enough of you."
"Not even... The hair..." he gestured up at his dripping-wet head of rather plain and boring brown hair.
Explaining the broom and the knob would take quite a bit of effort, and Howl would be certain to pester her about them for weeks. Feeling spiteful, Sophie snapped, "You'll not be ginger for another two lifetimes, Doctor!"
And that was that, really. He gave her a rather mournful look and then turned and walked away. Sophie headed back for the place that was her home and barely flinched when the strange wheezing groan spiraled up into the rain and dissipated with a wet thump. "A broom," she muttered to the broom, "I'm going to have to buy a broom tomorrow."
Still, Calcifer had probably not boiled the kettle dry just yet, if he wanted a biscuit or two. Which meant tea.
Perhaps things were looking up.
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*giggles*
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Thank you =)
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I have to say you've got some pure grade-A genius going on here. Simply amazing! Sophie and the Doctor (and a Classic Who reference to boot!) work surprisingly well together.
♥
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The Ice Warriors were