忌辰: [ visual | location: the academy ]

[biverbam.livejournal.com]

It's warm enough to go barefoot again. To sit in the grass for hours under Taxon's fake sun.

River is doing just that, curled up over in Wilde. All anyone will see of her when she turns the visual function on is the bend of ankle to one side of the frame as she props the tablet up to give everyone a good view of what it is she's looking at.

The building itself is smallish and unremarkable. What's inside is the real trick that keeps River's foot tapping anxiously.

"Three-hundred sixty-five," she says, and her foot pauses before moving out of frame. "Gregorian. Full circle. Measurement based on solar orbit doesn't count, but they all progress. Marches forward like it knows where it's going down here with spinning wheels where they bury you."

Her feet come back. Feet and calves and the hem of a sea-foam green sundress one might kindly refer to as 'ill-advised,' pacing a few feet in front of the tablet. A few feet closer to the building but no farther, sounding like she's walking tightrope when words start up again. "Snake eats its tail. Consumes and weighs the scales against venom..."

For most people it would be so simple to walk into a building.

"It's the way of things." River pauses, then. Feet stop pacing and slowly hair moves into frame and then her face as she bends down to look at the tablet. Her eyes look tired and determined in a terrified kind of way that can't be skewed much by being slightly upside-down. "It's mine, and I require assistance.

"Komma med din tanden."

Another pause, longer, and she looks away before leaning forward and clicking off the tablet.



[ ooc: HOLY CRAP ONE YEAR IN TAXON, ilu guys ridiculous amounts ♥ pretend this all happens on the 10th because I'm impatient, and be warned that this post will have a lot of Academy stuff (linked above) in it, in case anything from that kind of scenario isn't cool for you.

komma med din tanden - bring your teeth ]

001: Have You Met Miss Jones? [Holo]

[allthatlife.livejournal.com]

Martha Jones appeared in Taxon wearing a wedding dress and a frown.

“Oh, you have got to be …”

In a rustle of silk and chiffon, she stepped off the platform, lowering her bouquet to put her hands on her hips and survey her surroundings. The technology was clearly advanced, but it lacked the life and warmth of the TARDIS or the cheerful haphazardness of the Hub. She didn’t know who – or what – had made the transportation device and the fact that it clearly wasn’t Sontaran didn’t make her feel any better. The Earth had plenty of enemies. (And Martha – or, more accurately, one of Martha’s closest friends – had even more.)

“This is Doctor Martha Jones of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.” Her voice was calm, crisp and official, though she wished that she’d had the presence of mind to tuck her ID card in amongst the flowers. She should have known better than to expect a smooth wedding day. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but, believe me, kidnapping me isn’t going to help you.”

She noticed the bracelet on her wrist before she noticed the tablet. The metal – was it silver, or was it just an alien ore that looked a lot like silver? – was cold and, even more worryingly, it seemed to be fused directly to her skin. Martha gave it a tentative tug, before raising her hand to examine it properly. Oh my god. She’d been tagged, like some sort of pet. Like some sort of experiment.

“Send me home,” she demanded, in a sharp tone that she hadn’t used before. Anger – not fear, definitely not fear – bubbled up in her chest as she discarded her bouquet and picked up the tablet. (The same unusual metal, but the layout reminded her of a mobile phone or one of the sleek devices that Tosh had liked to customise for her colleagues.) “I’m supposed to be getting married today and, believe me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of some of my wedding guests.”