(no subject)

[victormakesart]

"How're you feeling, sweetie?" Victor is talking to her phone. Not that she thinks her phone is a sweetie, but she's talking to a voice on her phone, and it is on speaker. She is in a field, sprawled on her stomach on an ugly mustard-colored blanket.

"Good! I finished a few logic puzzles, and spent some time playing with my sisters on the computer. Anya is hilarious when you play peekaboo. 'Thena had me read stories over and over." It's a young voice, male, exuberent, and Vic's smiling this big proud smile and sipping at her coffee through a straw.

"I'm glad," she says. "Guess what Friday's gonna be?"

"Is it my birthday?"

"Absolutely. You nervous?"

"No way! This is going to rock!"

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[someoldhippy.livejournal.com]

"No no no no no!" He dashed around the console, tugging desperately on levers as the TARDIS shuddered and groaned. He'd put the correct coordinates in. He knew he had. Something was buffeting them from the vortex. He couldn't get a fix on it. The only thing to be done was to try to break free of it. It was dangerous, but his old girl never let him down, and he wasn't about to do the so to her.

He didn't have time to plot coordinates. He threw switches frantically, halting their progress and taking them out of the vortex. He gave a sigh of relief as the old girl gave her wheezing vworp vworp of reentry. The landing wasn't smooth; he found himself flung to the floor as she skidded to a halt. "Ow," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet.

Better check where they'd landed; he could look for damage from the rough landing after he'd determined that the location was safe. He strolled over to the doors and peered out.