bit_fairytale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bit_fairytale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-01-04 03:48 pm
bit_fairytale) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-01-04 03:48 pm
the first face this face ever met (in a village)
WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Outside the Fountain / The Woods
WHEN: January 4th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Potential, incredibly likely yelling
STATUS: Open
(I)
In her last moments, she's not entirely sure what to expect. Will it hurt? Will she regret it? Will something happen that makes her take back her insistence that the Doctor blink for her? What if she doesn't end up in the same place as Rory, what if something goes wrong and she's stuck away from him and the Doctor forever? Then she doesn't have any time to think because when she opens her eyes, it turns out that the angel's sent her to the bottom of the bloody Hudson river. Thrashing her way up, Amy inhales air as deeply as she can, scrambling and hauling herself out of an icy fountain to find that not only has she been sent to the wrong place, but all her clothes are gone and they've gone and strapped something bulky on her back. Glancing at her surroundings to make sure no one's about to come out of the treeline with anything sharp, Amy takes her time shifting through the bag, peering at the long johns with a wrinkle of her nose.
"No thank you," she says, jamming them at the very bottom of her bag, shivering wildly as her hair starts to ice at the ends with the continued exposure to the cold, but that's in her periphery for her attention. She bundles up in her coat while scanning the area, wiping tears from her cheeks when she realizes that she's been crying since she got out of that stupid looking fountain. "Rory?" she tries, an echoing croak in a quiet space. Trust a weeping angel to muck everything up. Bundling herself a little tighter, Amy shoves everything back in her bag, glancing down to see a shade of green she doesn't even think she owns anything in, anymore, and hauls the bag over a shoulder as she sets out to find out where it is she's landed.
Apparently, judging from the buildings and the lack of anything like technology, there's a creeping fear that she's gone too far back. What did New York look like in the 1800's? The 1700's? Why isn't the Doctor here when she needs her? Why doesn't she know this sort of thing? Stubbornly readying herself, she starts in the direction of one of the paths, heart pounding wildly, as if she's going to turn around and there'll be an angel there, ready to take her life because it turns out she can't trust them after all and it's all just some elaborate, cruel trick. It's ten minutes before she sees someone, but when she does, she won't pretend that she doesn't flail and charge towards them.
"Hey!" she shouts, at the top of her lungs so that people in the neighbouring hemisphere would be just as likely to hear Amy as the person she's shouting at. "Stop right there and you tell me where Rory Williams is, or I swear to you, I will..." she presses her lips together and stares down at her boots, which are really tightly laced, so there goes taking that off and punting it at them. "I'll probably just shout some more, but I can be very cross. Because," she says, eyes blazing with determination, "I just lost my husband at least three times today and I am tired of tracking him down through time and space and I'm not leaving until I've got some answers!"
(II.)
The woods remind her of the forest on the ship, all those years ago when they were fleeing the angels. Those stupid weeping angels have been there for some of the worst parts of Amy's life, but she'd really thought that by making the choice to go back in time to find Rory had been the right one. The only trouble is that finding Rory is turning out to be more of a production than she'd expected.
She's been wandering around for hours now, with a quick stop in a few homes where someone had mentioned seeing someone that fit Rory's description, but with no idea where he might be. Once her hair had dried and she'd warmed up past the point of 'shivering her knickers off', Amy had gone for the woods. Maybe Rory's out here, trying to find a way out (trying to find a way to her). Maybe she'll find him and it'll have been barely a few seconds since he'd been stolen by the angel. Not likely, but whatever, sometimes miracles happen. After all, she helped reboot the universe with the Doctor in it, why shouldn't she be able to find Rory in a small little forest?
Out here, the snow is beautiful and untouched, but at the same time, that level of pristine nature also sends a chill down her spine. Hearing footsteps behind her, she tries to find something to defend herself, thinking that maybe she should have started with that, given that she ends up with a branch that looks more like a feather duster than a weapon, but it's something.
"I hope you're here to help," she warns as she turns, wielding out the branch, "or I'll...tickle you until it's really uncomfortable," she warns, and hopes that she can make that seem somehow frightening.
WHERE: Outside the Fountain / The Woods
WHEN: January 4th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Potential, incredibly likely yelling
STATUS: Open
(I)
In her last moments, she's not entirely sure what to expect. Will it hurt? Will she regret it? Will something happen that makes her take back her insistence that the Doctor blink for her? What if she doesn't end up in the same place as Rory, what if something goes wrong and she's stuck away from him and the Doctor forever? Then she doesn't have any time to think because when she opens her eyes, it turns out that the angel's sent her to the bottom of the bloody Hudson river. Thrashing her way up, Amy inhales air as deeply as she can, scrambling and hauling herself out of an icy fountain to find that not only has she been sent to the wrong place, but all her clothes are gone and they've gone and strapped something bulky on her back. Glancing at her surroundings to make sure no one's about to come out of the treeline with anything sharp, Amy takes her time shifting through the bag, peering at the long johns with a wrinkle of her nose.
"No thank you," she says, jamming them at the very bottom of her bag, shivering wildly as her hair starts to ice at the ends with the continued exposure to the cold, but that's in her periphery for her attention. She bundles up in her coat while scanning the area, wiping tears from her cheeks when she realizes that she's been crying since she got out of that stupid looking fountain. "Rory?" she tries, an echoing croak in a quiet space. Trust a weeping angel to muck everything up. Bundling herself a little tighter, Amy shoves everything back in her bag, glancing down to see a shade of green she doesn't even think she owns anything in, anymore, and hauls the bag over a shoulder as she sets out to find out where it is she's landed.
Apparently, judging from the buildings and the lack of anything like technology, there's a creeping fear that she's gone too far back. What did New York look like in the 1800's? The 1700's? Why isn't the Doctor here when she needs her? Why doesn't she know this sort of thing? Stubbornly readying herself, she starts in the direction of one of the paths, heart pounding wildly, as if she's going to turn around and there'll be an angel there, ready to take her life because it turns out she can't trust them after all and it's all just some elaborate, cruel trick. It's ten minutes before she sees someone, but when she does, she won't pretend that she doesn't flail and charge towards them.
"Hey!" she shouts, at the top of her lungs so that people in the neighbouring hemisphere would be just as likely to hear Amy as the person she's shouting at. "Stop right there and you tell me where Rory Williams is, or I swear to you, I will..." she presses her lips together and stares down at her boots, which are really tightly laced, so there goes taking that off and punting it at them. "I'll probably just shout some more, but I can be very cross. Because," she says, eyes blazing with determination, "I just lost my husband at least three times today and I am tired of tracking him down through time and space and I'm not leaving until I've got some answers!"
(II.)
The woods remind her of the forest on the ship, all those years ago when they were fleeing the angels. Those stupid weeping angels have been there for some of the worst parts of Amy's life, but she'd really thought that by making the choice to go back in time to find Rory had been the right one. The only trouble is that finding Rory is turning out to be more of a production than she'd expected.
She's been wandering around for hours now, with a quick stop in a few homes where someone had mentioned seeing someone that fit Rory's description, but with no idea where he might be. Once her hair had dried and she'd warmed up past the point of 'shivering her knickers off', Amy had gone for the woods. Maybe Rory's out here, trying to find a way out (trying to find a way to her). Maybe she'll find him and it'll have been barely a few seconds since he'd been stolen by the angel. Not likely, but whatever, sometimes miracles happen. After all, she helped reboot the universe with the Doctor in it, why shouldn't she be able to find Rory in a small little forest?
Out here, the snow is beautiful and untouched, but at the same time, that level of pristine nature also sends a chill down her spine. Hearing footsteps behind her, she tries to find something to defend herself, thinking that maybe she should have started with that, given that she ends up with a branch that looks more like a feather duster than a weapon, but it's something.
"I hope you're here to help," she warns as she turns, wielding out the branch, "or I'll...tickle you until it's really uncomfortable," she warns, and hopes that she can make that seem somehow frightening.
no subject
Lucky for her, she's written a number of reports on Hot Italians, which this one definitely falls into the category of. "I don't know what you're saying, but I know that's Latin," she latches on, a lump in her throat as she surges towards the man. "Rory, yes, Rory Williams," she says. "You know him. Were you one of his soldiers?" she asks, despite the fact that none of this makes sense.
no subject
"Rory, son of Brian, Williams," he agrees, but there's little more he can say that she might understand, if she doesn't know Latin.
She knows enough to know the name of the language, at least.
He gestures in the direction of the inn, his arm making a wide sweep towards it. "I met him in the inn," he says, but he says it in Latin, because he doesn't know the words in Rory's language. He hopes, though, that the gesture will be enough help that she understands what he's trying to say.
no subject
"I don't know what any of that means," she informs him, "but you need to take me to him. You, me," she says, gesturing between them fervently. "Take me to Rory." She's already pushing him, a little too forward, but it's her husband and she's had a very trying day. She can be excused for a lot of her behaviour.
no subject
She even does one of the things he's found that helps: breaking down what she says into short sentences, and gesturing. He gives an exaggerated nod of understanding, and gestures.
"I don't know if he's there, but come with me."
He doesn't expect her to understand what he's saying, but he thinks she'll understand when he starts a brisk walk towards the Inn.
no subject
"So, what, you don't speak any English at all?" She's probably talking to herself at this point, but at least it will fill the space. "Does everyone else here speak Latin? Is it a Latin place? Well, not totally, not if Rory is here," she reasons. "Do I sound like the Doctor right now?" she asks, half disgusted and mostly wary. "I should stop." And, as opposed to other rambling aliens, actually sort of does.