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Entry tags:
ficlets: Two Doctor Who ficlets
disclaimer: not mine.
fandom: DW, Torchwood.
characters: Alice Carter and Barbara, Amelia Rumford and Romana
genre: gen
rating: pg
notes: I made a new random prompt generatore.
Alice Carter, Barbara, goblins
"I know what you're going to say," the old woman informed Alice Carter, as she handed her a shotgun filled with rock salt charges. "I'm too old for this."
"No." Yes. Alice tried not to be impolite to Barbara, but she didn't know her, and this wasn't a game. It wasn't something for old women to be tangling in, either. The shotgun was heavy in her hand, though. "What are those things, do you know?"
A screech from outside the windows of the pub they'd run into made them both jump, though it was more out of surprise than terror.
"I've no idea," Barbara replied, her grin splitting her face. "But they look like gargoyles or goblins."
Something crashed through the boards they'd hastily pressed into surface as barricades over the windows and Barbara had her rifle up, firing at the shrieking goblin. With little time to waste, Alice followed suit as others began pouring through the broken glass and splintered wood.
The kick of the rifle was bruising, and she spared a worry for Barbara and her brittle bones, before everything was drowned out in the simple acts of aiming, firing and reloading.
Any questions she had could wait until later.
If there was one.
-f-
prompt: Romana, Amelia Rumford. 'call me Alice'
Amelia had watched the inquisitive, bright-eyed ginger girl with suspicion for most of her lecture. There was something about her, some way she'd phrase her questions that seemed impertinent yet curiously polite. As though she were curious for the form of the science, but had worked it all out long since.
Unsurprisingly, Amelia found the girl waiting for her as the others cleared the hall and she packed up her notes. Perhaps she was bursting with questions still.
"I say," Amelia went on the offensive, her mind playing tricks (perhaps she was simply a doddering old woman, as her detractors liked to claim), "You don't really want those answers, do you?"
"Perhaps I do."
There was a moment, and the feeling spilled out, forcing Amelia to speak. She'd never been one to hold her tongue, but this was rather out there. "You, my dear, are full of humbug, and always have been." She paused and snapped her case closed, "Or was it him? My memory might be going."
One brow arched and Amelia nearly felt cowed by the sudden arch and aristocratic demeanor. She was saved by her own backbone and the strange twinkle at the back of the girl's eyes. "Am I?"
"Yes. Yes of course you are," Amelia murmured, finally putting a name to something she couldn't quite name. It wasn't the face that was familiar, after all. "Romana." It was a gamble, and she might still prove that doddering old fool.
"Call me Alice. I'm trying to keep a low profile," confided the girl, her eyes twinkling even more.
Pleased with herself (and Romana), Amelia hooked her hand through Romana's arm, "Come, Alice, I believe tea and cake is in store."
'Alice' chuckled, and more of the youthfulness of her face fell away, leaving her almost as old as Amelia for a moment before her lips twitched, "As long as there are no mad hatters."
"Mmpf." Amelia replied, "None, as of yet."
Knowing 'Alice' and the company she kept, it was possible there would be visitations of such later.
-f-
fandom: DW, Torchwood.
characters: Alice Carter and Barbara, Amelia Rumford and Romana
genre: gen
rating: pg
notes: I made a new random prompt generatore.
Alice Carter, Barbara, goblins
"I know what you're going to say," the old woman informed Alice Carter, as she handed her a shotgun filled with rock salt charges. "I'm too old for this."
"No." Yes. Alice tried not to be impolite to Barbara, but she didn't know her, and this wasn't a game. It wasn't something for old women to be tangling in, either. The shotgun was heavy in her hand, though. "What are those things, do you know?"
A screech from outside the windows of the pub they'd run into made them both jump, though it was more out of surprise than terror.
"I've no idea," Barbara replied, her grin splitting her face. "But they look like gargoyles or goblins."
Something crashed through the boards they'd hastily pressed into surface as barricades over the windows and Barbara had her rifle up, firing at the shrieking goblin. With little time to waste, Alice followed suit as others began pouring through the broken glass and splintered wood.
The kick of the rifle was bruising, and she spared a worry for Barbara and her brittle bones, before everything was drowned out in the simple acts of aiming, firing and reloading.
Any questions she had could wait until later.
If there was one.
-f-
prompt: Romana, Amelia Rumford. 'call me Alice'
Amelia had watched the inquisitive, bright-eyed ginger girl with suspicion for most of her lecture. There was something about her, some way she'd phrase her questions that seemed impertinent yet curiously polite. As though she were curious for the form of the science, but had worked it all out long since.
Unsurprisingly, Amelia found the girl waiting for her as the others cleared the hall and she packed up her notes. Perhaps she was bursting with questions still.
"I say," Amelia went on the offensive, her mind playing tricks (perhaps she was simply a doddering old woman, as her detractors liked to claim), "You don't really want those answers, do you?"
"Perhaps I do."
There was a moment, and the feeling spilled out, forcing Amelia to speak. She'd never been one to hold her tongue, but this was rather out there. "You, my dear, are full of humbug, and always have been." She paused and snapped her case closed, "Or was it him? My memory might be going."
One brow arched and Amelia nearly felt cowed by the sudden arch and aristocratic demeanor. She was saved by her own backbone and the strange twinkle at the back of the girl's eyes. "Am I?"
"Yes. Yes of course you are," Amelia murmured, finally putting a name to something she couldn't quite name. It wasn't the face that was familiar, after all. "Romana." It was a gamble, and she might still prove that doddering old fool.
"Call me Alice. I'm trying to keep a low profile," confided the girl, her eyes twinkling even more.
Pleased with herself (and Romana), Amelia hooked her hand through Romana's arm, "Come, Alice, I believe tea and cake is in store."
'Alice' chuckled, and more of the youthfulness of her face fell away, leaving her almost as old as Amelia for a moment before her lips twitched, "As long as there are no mad hatters."
"Mmpf." Amelia replied, "None, as of yet."
Knowing 'Alice' and the company she kept, it was possible there would be visitations of such later.
-f-
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