Update Part 1

So it’s been a while since I’ve done much of anything on this blog ^^; School had consumed pretty much my entire existence so I’ve been behind on prompts and shirking the Zepheera-Visions, and I’ve also gotten myself deeply involved with the @brothersapart universe.

But that’s not all I’ve been up to.

Introducing Borrowed Magic, my first co-written AU in the BTaS universe!

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Art © @lotminx [Deviantart] a lovely commission of the babs

@neonthewrite has lent me her Bowman to join in the shenanigans of my borrower OC Zepheera and the Tenth Doctor in my crossover series Borrowed Time and Space. Fittingly enough, we’ve named this AU Borrowed Magic.

I’ve poked at ideas for AUs of BTaS before, mostly to allow for interactions with more of the Tenth Doctor’s companions, but this one has the potential for so much fun. Not only is Bowman a spitfire of a sassball, but it’s interesting to throw yet another non-human companion into the mix! His life in Wellwood has in no way prepared him for travel in time and space, and it doesn’t help that he’s the youngest and the smallest on board (due to the slight scale difference, Zepheera ends up a whole half-inch taller than the sprite, much to his annoyance). 

This is a young AU, but Neon and I do have plans in store for these dorks. I’ll start posting excerpts semi-regularly, and we’ll take any questions involving the AU!

For now, here’s a sneak peek at our first completed story!


“Zepheera, answer me!”


Who is Zepheera?

The insistent call deepened the concerned frown on Bowman’s face. He watched the tall man with hardly-blinking eyes for a moment before registering that there could be another human out there. That made his wings fan open and closed as he scanned the forest for another giant nearby.

He was thinking he might have to fly a short distance to find another giant crashing around in the woods. Keeping track of all intruders was imperative for the safety of the village. Bowman turned, aiming to look behind himself first.

He did a double take at the sight of someone on the branch with him.

“Spirit’s dance!” he yelped, flinching backwards. He stumbled off the end of the branch, but his wings caught him easily, flaring open and pulling him back up to hover level with one of the strangest people he’d ever seen. They had skin that looked a bit pale compared to his own, but not as pale as the tall human a distance away. Most important was the lack of any sort of wings on their back, despite otherwise being sprite-sized.

“What … who are you?!”


Look out for Part 2 of this update, coming soon

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Prompt: Rainbow

((I’m back! Fell into a bit of a writer’s block earlier in the week, but I’m slowly getting back on track! Anyway, here’s another prompt from this list of one-word prompts. Feel free to send in one!))


Zepheera crept furtively up to the drawing room where she was sure to find her husband. They both kept supplies for their personal crafts in there – pinched fabric and old socks and small pins for Zepheera’s sewing and knitting, and paper scraps and pencil tips for Orrick’s drawing – but Orrick used it most often. There was a sizable crack in the floorboard that made up the ceiling in the small room, giving him ideal lighting (second only to sketching outside, which was risky for a five-inch-tall man).

He sat with his back to the door, granting Zepheera the perfect opportunity to sneak up on him and plant a quick kiss on his fair cheek.

“Happy anniversary,” she chirped, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind.

Orrick started, then sighed and took one of Zepheera’s hands in his left one (his right was used for drawing and therefore covered in graphite). “Ah yes, how festive. Celebrating five years of marriage with a heart attack. Love you too, Zeph.”

Sarcasm aside, he smiled and pecked the back of Zepheera’s hand. She chuckled and pulled away, pulling up an empty spool to sit alongside him.

“And I was still thoughtful enough to make you this.” She presented a coil of rope she’d made to replace the one that had snapped on him a month and a half prior. This one she’d twisted herself using three lengths of dark-colored sewing thread to allow for more stability and durability. “Couldn’t manage to swipe your hook, but now that it’s officially yours we can attach it later.”

Orrick’s mouth hung open as he hastily cleaned his hands on a damp cloth. He took the rope in a firm grip, testing its strength and observing the feel of it.

“So this is what you’ve been sneakin’ around to do,” he smirked.

She nudged him playfully. “Unlike some, I’ve been borrowing since I was ten. I’ve long since mastered the art of the sneak.”

He pulled Zepheera in close, her slim frame fitting right into the crook of his arm. “I love it. Thanks.”

Zepheera smiled and leaned into his chest.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve drawn for me this time.”

Regardless of how long she’d known him, Orrick’s skill still managed to impress Zepheera. Not only was his talent for pencil sketches unmatched by anyone she’d had ever met, but he was able to remember moments and images with uncanny accuracy and then transfer them into a drawing without flaw.

He never got tired of drawing Zepheera. There didn’t even need to be an occasion, but Zepheera was sure to receive a drawing from her husband for her birthday or an anniversary. Usually of herself and always unprompted.

She recognized this year’s portrait as a scene from their trip to the garden two weeks before. It had been raining for four days straight, keeping the humans in the house at all times, which in turn all but trapped the borrowers in their own home under the floor. Orrick and Zepheera knew it was irrational to be afraid of a flood washing away their livelihood since the house was on elevated ground, but after days of being cooped up they started to worry. Finally a bright, sunny day came along and the humans went into town too resupply and socialize. This left Zepheera and Orrick ample time to meander about the less waterlogged parts of the garden.

In the picture, Zepheera was leaning back on her hands, basking in the sunlight with her eyes closed. She remembered the exact moment: the way the warm breeze had blown through her long, dark hair and blessedly filled her lungs with the fresh air they had been deprived of all week. She just hadn’t realized Orrick had been watching.

She gaped at the level of detail in the sketch, from the tiny four-petal flower Orrick had picked and tucked behind Zepheera’s ear, to the clouds in the sky and…

“What’s that?” She pointed to a gray streak that stretched across the sky, darker and more linear than the fluffy clouds.

“It’s a rainbow,” he explained.

Zepheera frowned at it for a moment. “C’mon, I pointed it out to you. Don’t you remember?”

Recognition lit up Zepheera’s deep violet eyes. “Oh yeah, I remember. But that was later on, I was half-asleep.”

“It was still there, even if I didn’t notice it at the moment. I was just…admiring a more beautiful view.”

Orrick shook his head at the cheesiness of his own line.

Zepheera smiled anyway, moving the drawing from his lap to her own. The rainbow didn’t really matter too much. At the end of the day, it was a background detail in a portrait that was focused entirely on Zepheera.

“Thanks, love. It’s wonderful.”

Orrick gave her shoulders a squeeze and kissed her hair, which had been pulled back into a messy, careless bun.

With a smirk, she added, “I do appreciate how you tried to distinguish the colors from each other.

“Well!” Orrick scoffed, a mirthful smile playing across his lips. “If you want a life-like rainbow, then you’re going to have to borrow your poor deprived husband some colored pencil tips.”

“In this house? With possibly the least artistic humans in existence?” Zepheera giggled.

“Exactly.”

Now it was Zepheera’s turn to shake her head.

“You’re a dunce,” she sighed.

“Yeah, but I’m your dunce.”

Zepheera smirked and lifted her chin to meet his bright blue gaze. “And don’t you forget it.”

She leaned up as he leaned down to press his lips against hers. In that moment, they couldn’t be more content.

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Prompt: Hollow

Part one of a three-part story which combines two prompts from @wingedkuriboh27, one of which is shown below. The second prompt will be revealed tomorrow in the third part, which is a Zepheera-Vision.

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This is in reference to this list of one-word prompts. Feel free to send me one!


Earth, 2085 A.D.

No matter how adaptable borrowers could be to their environments, they couldn’t escape the rise of technology for long. They weren’t a worldwide phenomenon yet, but a few poor souls had fallen into the hands of human scientists. The lucky ones were studied humanely. Others were experimented on.

Zepheera supposed her luck would have had to run out eventually.

She didn’t regret it, not for a second. Her sacrifice distracted the searchers from a hidden colony she’d established long ago. Rather than lose all those lives and their hard work, Zepheera led the humans far away and allowed herself to be captured.

For the good of her people.

As a result, Zepheera ended up in the custody of scientists whose main role was to test new drugs. Until the recent discovery of borrowers, they’d had to resort to testing on rodents. In their minds, borrowers were close enough in physiology to humans that they made perfect test subjects. However, they’d only managed to scrounge up a handful of the tiny people along with Zepheera, so they kept the rodents around as a fallback.

This turned out to be a smart move as all of the other borrower test subjects died under the scientists’…care. Either they overdosed or starved themselves out or passed away from some other incidental circumstance. The humans did little to prevent their deaths, happy to perform autopsies and postmortems on the miniature cadavers.

Zepheera, on the other hand, they fought to keep her alive. She wasn’t like the others. They found out quickly that she could heal wounds momentarily; she’d been nicked by the pair of scissors they’d used to snip off the clothes she’d been wearing. They gave her a simple frock and decided she was their most valuable specimen, to be kept alive at any cost. They even force fed her when she participated in the hunger strike with the few friends she’d been able to make in that hell.

Now, she could barely remember any of their names, her brain was so addled with drugs.

They had her on a rotation. They’d give her one drug one day, give her two days to recover, and then start again with a different drug. She never learned the names of these drugs, but she recognized them from how they made her feel. One made her hyper and restless, another filled her with manic rage, and yet another made her unreasonably happy.

Today’s drug simply made her feel hollow.


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 2.5 | Part 3


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Prompt: Evanesce

Hope you were expecting angst! (though honestly, how could you not with a word like ‘evanesce’ xD)

This is actually a bit of a sneak peek into a future plot point for my main story. It’s not an excerpt, but it’s a little look into an otherwise unseen character whose story will be told soon.

In reference to this list of one-word prompts. Feel free to send me one!


It was the cold that drew Orrick Shelf from sleep. The bed he shared with his wife was always warm when he woke up. If she was awake before him, she waited for him so they could make, or in some cases find breakfast together.

So he was confused when he groggily reached a hand to her side of the bed to find it empty.

He sat up in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself as his head cleared of the fog of sleep. Rubbing his bright blue eyes, he distantly wondered where his wife could be. A quick look around the room told him it was empty. Just like the bed.

With the blanket still draped over his shoulders, he got up and checked the storeroom just adjacent to the bedroom. Still there was no sign of his wife. None of the food had even been touched.

The kitchen and sitting rooms turned up empty as well. By then Orrick was fully awake and worried.

Then he remembered. His wife would sometimes go borrowing on her own. She’d never done it this early in the morning, but on many occasions Orrick would wake up from a nap to a note on her pillow explaining where she’d gone. Maybe she had done the same here. After all, if she was out in the humans’ territory of the house, she must be dead-set on getting something.

A wave of relief swept over Orrick when he returned to the bedroom and saw a slip of paper on the pillow. He sighed heavily, shaking his head at his own inattention. It was with a smile that he picked up and unfolded the note, a little excited to hear about what was so important as to warrant such an early borrowing.

His smile melted and ice shot through his gut as he read the mere two words scratched onto the scrap of paper.

I’m sorry

He frowned, rereading and turning the note over to ensure she’d left him nothing else. What the hell does that mean?

Orrick’s heart was racing, blood roaring in his ears. She couldn’t… She wouldn’t! He simply could not conceive a plausible reason for the love of his life to vanish into thin air!

He ran from room to room, this time calling her name almost nonstop. He got dressed and spent the entire day checking every safe square inch of the house, and all night he searched the humans’ rooms, hoping beyond hope.

In the end, he returned to the home that now only belonged to him. Exhausted, but he couldn’t bear to sleep. Hungry, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He dropped his gear off near the door and sat wearily in the nearest chair.

Running his hands through his sharp red hair, he willed himself to pull it together. He couldn’t afford to wallow in misery over his wife’s disappearance. He could almost hear her now, repeating the words she would always say when they went through rough times. It’s okay. We can survive this.

Surviving was a far cry from understanding. It just didn’t make sense. They were happy, always had been. He hadn’t been treating her any differently recently than he had in all the time he knew her – and even if he had without realizing it, she would let him know in no uncertain terms. In hindsight, his wife had seemed a bit distracted the last few days, but nothing she’d said or done even remotely hinted at her intentions to leave.

Orrick let out a long breath and hugged his knees close to his chest. None of that mattered. Looking into the past would do nothing to change the fact that his wife was gone. And she seemed to have done so willingly, leaving no hint as to a reason why or an intention to ever come back.

Zepheera may have disappeared, but his love for her would never evanesce.

Stuck in the Middle

BTaS Canon: No
Episode: Day of the Doctor
Doctor(s): Tenth, Eleventh, and War Doctors
Companions: Zepheera

Previously


Zepheera had resigned herself to keep quiet while the two most recent incarnations of the Doctor rode out the novelty of being together with their four and a half inch tall companion. Ten, who hadn’t met Zepheera yet in his timeline, kept trying to surreptitiously learn about what was in store for him and the borrower. She or Eleven, depending on who spoke first, would always answer these types of questions with the word “Spoilers,” and Ten would moan about how the timelines were “too wibbly and I won’t remember anyway!” This only earned him a shrug and elicited a short-lived pout.

Zepheera hadn’t realized how much she had missed that pout.

Eventually the youngest incarnation of the Doctor insisted that they should be making some progress with the whole Zygon-invasion-and-painting-of-Gallifrey problem. The other two conceded and stood in unison. Zepheera got to her feet as well, throwing her single-strapped rucksack over her shoulder.

She turned to find two upturned hands in front of her, both acting as platform for her to climb on. When she looked up, the Doctors were staring each other down.

“Back off, Sandshoes!” hissed the Eleventh Doctor, nudging his counterpart away. “She’s not your companion yet!”

“Exactly! You can spend all the time you like with her, and I wanna know what I have to look forward to! I’m dying for a sneak peek.” Ten exclaimed.

Zepheera bit back a cringe at his phrasing.

Eleven shot back, “You haven’t met her yet. She hasn’t had time to properly train you up.”

“Oh, come on, you know she’s not the first life form her size I’ve encountered!”

“Well it’s different when you live with one, and take it from me who took it from her, you are a shrugger!”

This took the Tenth Doctor aback. He glanced between his future self and his future companion. “I am?” he asked, sounding subdued.

Eleven nodded emphatically. “And a fidgeter.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” sighed the War Doctor, waiting semi-patiently as the other two squabbled. “You fools are arguing over the lady as though she isn’t here! If anyone’s going to decide who she goes along with, it should be her.”

Ten and Eleven shared a sheepish look and nodded, mumbling apologies to Zepheera. They stood quietly, waiting for the borrower to make her choice.

Zepheera smiled gratefully at the War Doctor, who nodded once in return. He was an enigmatic one, that much was certain, but he seemed just as sweet and caring as the Doctors she knew and loved. She made a mental note to find some time alone with him later, sit down and get to know the Doctor before she knew him.

But for now, she had a decision to make. After a short moment of deliberation, she took a deep breath and approached Eleven. He clapped his hands triumphantly before offering her one to climb onto. Ten sighed but accepted Zepheera’s choice. As Eleven lifted her to his shoulder, she shot Ten an apologetic look.

“You are fidgety. And a shrugger,” she admitted. Ten nodded, barely suppressing a pout at Eleven’s smug look.

A small smirk tugged at Zepheera’s lip. “To your credit, though, you did train up faster than this one.”

Ten snorted and Eleven’s jaw dropped in indignation. “Oh, thanks a lot there, pipsqueak! Let’s just go already.”

“Finally,” muttered the War Doctor.

As they were leaving, Ten crept up behind Eleven and softly asked Zepheera, “How on Earth do you even stay up there with, y’know…” He rubbed his chin, raising a questioning eyebrow at the small woman.

“He slouches,” hissed Zepheera in reply, twisting around to wink conspiratorially at Ten.

“Oh, leave off, you two!” grumbled Eleven.

Ten smirked. “I have a feeling I like you, Zepheera.”

“I should hope so,” she said, facing front again before he could catch the hint of sadness that made it into her smile and eyes.

I’ve missed you.


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Timey-Wimey Tidbits #09

More of a headcanon with regard to Ten

Officially, Time Lords are fairly immune to the affects of alcohol, and can only get drunk if they want to. In addition, they can very easily snap themselves out of it.

The Doctor, in his Tenth incarnation, is both a silly drunk and a sad drunk, depending on the circumstances and the level of drunk he allows himself to be. There is no in between.

Imagine Zepheera stumbling upon her Time Lord after he’s had way more than a few. He’s either singing loudly and off-key and laughing at/with inanimate objects, or he’s curled up in a ball of despair shaking with silent sobs. Either way, the borrower will eventually get noticed and he’ll suddenly become very still, all effects of inebriation leaving him at once.

Zepheera will comfort him without even questioning what drove him to get so drunk in the first place, especially in the latter situation. She’ll remind him that what’s done is in the past, and he’s not alone anymore.

Zepheera-Vision — Geronimo!

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The power of the Doctor’s regeneration knocked Zepheera over, her back hitting the console hard. The heat was incredibly intense, and she scrambled away before she could be too badly burnt. Then the console beneath her sparked forcefully, throwing Zepheera off completely. She landed on the catwalk floor, all the air shoved out of her lungs from the blow. 

Her eyes darted around anxiously as she caught her breath. Everything was on fire. Hot, molten sparks poured from the ceiling, tongues of flame erupted from the floor. A particularly large burst of fire destroyed the integrity of one of the coral supports surrounding the console and, with its connections to both the ceiling and the floor gone, it began to tip inward.

Right toward Zepheera.

Her wits snapped into place at the sight of the massive falling structure, and she shot to her feet and darted toward the underside of the console. The controls themselves would act as a (woefully shallow) awning to hopefully protect her from being crushed, but just in case she ran along the bottom edge in an attempt to get as far away from the danger as possible.

The support crashed into the floor loudly, the actual impact landing far from Zepheera. But it immediately crumbled into pieces, which tumbled next to the console. The tremors caused by the fragments cost Zepheera her balance once again, only this time she was able to catch herself before her face could smash into the harsh metal. Opting to not risk another fall, Zepheera crawled away from the debris.

A voice broke through the rumbling chaos, a scream coming from the Doctor’s direction. Zepheera looked up to find that she was behind the Time Lord, so close that she had to flip onto her back just to make out his head. She watched as his hair suddenly became longer and the scream gave way into an entirely new man’s voice. The regeneration energy dissipated and he went quiet.

But the TARDIS was still falling apart, and a loud crash prompted the Doctor to turn around. Whether it was because he was not used to his new body or if it was simply in his nature to be out-of-balance now, he stumbled around from the momentum of the simple action. Zepheera hadn’t even had time to register what he looked like now, because her focus was entirely on those aimless feet that were a little too close for her liking. Don’t step on me don’t step on me please don’t, she thought frantically as she backed away from him.

“Legs!” the new voice cried as one of the feet lifted into the air. “I’ve still got legs!” She looked up to find the Doctor grasping his knee and kissing it gratefully. “Good!” He let his leg fall back into place.

“Doctor!” Zepheera called up, but he was preoccupied. His gaze wandered about his body, checking to make sure everything was in order, all with wide and curious eyes.

“Arms!” he exclaimed. “Hands! Ooh, fingers! Lots of fingers!” He wiggled them in front of his face, further distracting him from the borrower trying to get his attention.

Looking around, Zepheera found that one of her ladders to the console had somehow survived the destruction mostly unscathed; it was missing a few rungs and was slightly singed, but Zepheera had climbed worse. She hurried over and ascended the ladder as fast as she could while the Doctor carried on: “Ears: yes. Eyes: two. Nose…mm, I’ve had worse. Chin…blimey! Hair…I’m a girl!”

Zepheera automatically rolled her eyes at the notion that longer hair indicated he was female, but as she pulled herself up onto the console he found his Adam’s apple and decided that he was not a girl. Before she could start to wave her arms or call his name again, he turned away to inspect his hair closer, pulling it in front of his eyes to the best of his ability.

“And still not ginger!”

“Doctor!” Zepheera shouted, but it seemed that he was consumed in his own thoughts.

“There’s something else,” he realized, turning to look around without focus. “Something important, I’m…I’m, I’m–”

“DOC–!” An enormous BANG cut Zepheera short and threw her as well as the Time Lord off-balance. The Doctor caught himself on the console right next to Zepheera, laughing ecstatically.

“Crashing!”

Losing patience, Zepheera jumped to her feet and yelled, “Would you look at me, you giant idiot?!”

That finally drew the Doctor’s wide, now-hazel eyes toward her. He looked at her for a drawn-out moment before his already massive grin grew.

“Zepheera!” he exclaimed, pulling himself along the console until his brand-new face was inches from where she stood. It was all she could do to hold her ground at the enormous man’s approach. “Oh, look at you! I hardly recognized you, you look so different! But the same! Or maybe that’s just my eyes, same but different!”

Another crash cut his ramble short, and Zepheera wavered in the tremors. Suddenly her feet were pushed out from under her and she landed on something soft, warm, and rising in the air. The Doctor had scooped her up and lifted her to his shoulder. Before she could scold him for not warning her, he was circling the console toward the monitor and she needed to hang on tight.

Same old suit, she thought absently as she gripped the familiar fabric with white knuckles, then looked up at the Doctor’s profile. Brand new man.

The Doctor was whooping enthusiastically, all the rumbles and the image of the planet spiraling on the screen exciting him even more. The TARDIS was falling to Earth, and the Doctor couldn’t be happier.

“GERONIMOOOO!” bellowed the Doctor.

On top of trying not to panic, Zepheera made a mental note to retrain the Doctor’s volume control.


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Part 1 | Part 2


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Zepheera-Vision — I Don’t Wanna Go

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Zepheera waited patiently for the Doctor to return to the TARDIS. This was his last stop, his last chance to see Rose Tyler, so it was understandable that he would be taking his time. But as the minutes dragged on, she began to wander the console aimlessly, wondering if something had happened to him.

A voice came to her head, giving her pause. They were singing in Latin. She had no idea where the song was coming from, but somehow she knew every word as they came, and who it was all for.

She didn’t realize she’d been singing along until the doors of the TARDIS opened and closed heavily, and she held her tongue. The Doctor leaned wearily on the doors. After a breath or two, he made his way up the slight incline to the main platform of the room, relying on the short railing. This alone sent an icy pang of worry through Zepheera’s stomach. 

The way he moved, even in an action as simple as shedding his coat and tossing it onto its typical support, made it clear to her that everything hurt. He hesitated, lifting his right hand to eye level. Regeneration energy flowed from it as he turned his wrist, watching golden streaks dance around his fingers. After a moment he curled the hand into a loose fist and let it hang by his side, turning to the console to lock eyes with his four and a half inch tall companion.

It wouldn’t be long now, and they both knew it.

“So…What happens now?” The borrower knew well enough by now the technical details of regeneration, but she wasn’t sure if she should say something meaningful or sing that song that was still going in the back of her head. She didn’t know if a goodbye was in order since he’d still be the Doctor at the end of the day, just a little different.

The Doctor made his way laboriously around the console, passing Zepheera by entirely. “Now…I’m taking you home,” he said steadily.

Zepheera followed him, frowning in confusion. Disregarding the fact that she didn’t have a home outside the TARDIS, she went straight for the important question.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

This stopped him in his tracks and he sighed deeply, lowering his gaze to the floor. “No, Zepheera, it’s not like that.”

“Then why can’t I stay?” she demanded.

“Because it’s not safe!” he snapped. He paused to catch his breath from the short outburst, then lowered himself to a kneel with evident effort. Then his brown eyes met her small deep violets. “I can feel it, Zepheera. I dunno how, but this one’s gonna be violent, I just know it. For all I know, I could destroy everything, and…I don’t want to risk you.”

Zepheera considered his words, never breaking eye contact. After a deep breath, she crossed her arms and planted her feet on the uneven surface of the console.

“I’ll be careful then,” she asserted. “You shouldn’t be alone for this. I always told you I’d be here for you, no matter what. That I’d never be afraid of you. I don’t care if you change your face, Doctor, I’m keeping that bloody promise.”

Even so, the Doctor looked conflicted, and his gaze wandered indecisively.

In the silence between them, Zepheera noticed the song in her head gaining momentum. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she joined in with the chorus once again.

“Vale decem…”

The Doctor’s attention snapped back to the borrower. “You hear it, too,” he realized.

In answer, Zepheera smiled sadly as she sang. The words, though foreign to her, were a perfect representation of her feelings. It was a farewell, but also a comfort. The Doctor returned the smile and pushed himself to his feet. Clearly her mind would not be changed. And honestly, she was right. He needed the company.

Nunquam singularis…

He pulled the lever to send the TARDIS flying into orbit above the Earth. That gorgeous noise filled the air alongside the sound of the universe singing the Doctor to his sleep.

Nunquam…

He glanced down to find tears streaming down his small friend’s face, reaching a gentle hand to wipe them away. Zepheera, still singing, trembled at this contact, and before he could pull his finger away she grabbed hold of it, pulling it into a tight embrace.

Dum spiro fido…

It was only when his hand began to glow again that he pulled it away from her grasp. He ruffled her hair with a finger like he always used to, but without the usual humor, and walked to the other side of the console to separate himself from her. Zepheera just barely refrained from following, heeding his earlier warning, but as the chorus in her mind repeated vale over and over, she circled the other way to see his face one last time before it disappeared.

His breaths were shallow and his eyes were shining. “I don’t wanna go,” he declared, a small tremble in his voice. Regeneration energy surrounded his face and flowed from his hands with ever-growing intensity.

The song was over.


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Celebrating 50 followers.

Part 1 | Part 2 coming tomorrow, more info to follow.


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Zepheera! (I don’t know the others Dx )

skybluesweatband:

(That’s fine, I was just spouting off a bunch of my secondary characters ^^)

Full Name: Just Zepheera.
Gender and Sexuality: Female, demisexual and biromantic
Pronouns: She/her/hers
Ethnicity/Species: Biracial / borrower
Birthplace and Birthdate: London, England; February 8th, 1927.
Guilty Pleasures: Dancing and Noel Coward
Phobias: Cats. Bad experiences…
What They Would Be Famous For: Probably her longevity and how much she can accomplish with her long life.
What They Would Get Arrested For: Idk how she’d ever get arrested, but I’d say probably for alleged thievery or civil disobedience.
OC You Ship Them With: His name’s Orrick, another borrower of course. He’s adorable. If only I could just let them be happy ;^;
OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I don’t think I have one yet. >.>
Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Fantasy
Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Romance and horror.
Talents and/or Powers: She’s a great borrower, a master at hiding, sneaking, and general intrusion and espionage / Healing factor and augmented lifespan.
Why Someone Might Love Them: She is caring and passionate, with an occasionally motherly personality.
Why Someone Might Hate Them: She can be pretty closed off about herself to strangers, so I suppose that could come off as cold.
How They Change: She learns that she doesn’t have to settle. She can make her own destiny and live the life she wants.
Why You Love Them: She is my smol child, and yet I want to grow up to be her x3