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labyrinth-runner · 3 years

Note

Soft Obi cuddles. Like the candle on the other side of the room is the light thats making his hair all sparkly forehead kisses wrap me in a blanket but please also let me have skin contact soft cuddles

thats it

thats the ask

thank u

love u

byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee : D

The Warmth of Knowing

Warnings: None. Just softness? Sorta? It's a moment in time.

Obi-Wan x Reader

Synopsis: Reader takes Obi-Wan away to rest and catch up.

The glowing red embers crackled in the hearth, casting the room in a warm hue. The fire enveloped you in its balmy embrace as you lazily blinked your eyes open. A rustle of movement beneath your chin caused you to look down, finding fluffy amber hair tickling your neck as the owner snuggled further into you. Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers through his hair, your fingernails dividing the golden strands as they slid under your fingertips.

You wanted- no, you needed to stretch, to elongate your body as your hands reached for the expanse of space above and your toes curled towards the depths below, but you dare not move. You dare not disturb the sleeping beast, for you knew it was a rare occasion that he did sleep. He preferred to run himself until he could run no longer, and only then would he allow himself to care for his own needs, having put the needs of others before his own for so long.

Your eyes lost focus before fluttering closed and letting sleep claim you again.

You awoke to the scent of spices in the air. They were earthen spices of clove and cinnamon, the kind that made you feel heady and the world hazy. They were the spices that renewed not just the thirst, but the soul.

Water poured into a cup, swirling shades of vermillion engulfing the pure white of porcelain. The cup was passed to you wordlessly. You took a sip, letting the flavorful tea coat wash over your tongue. It tastes like him, you thought. You didn't know why that thought intruded into your mind, but you knew it to be true. He was apples, whiskey, and fall spices. You wondered what you tasted like. Were you the juicy sweetness of summer? Or were you the floral beginnings of spring? Perhaps you were even the minty freshness of winter.

"How did you sleep?" you finally asked, breaking the spell. Yours was a relationship that could coexist without verbal words. There were little mental pushes and pulls of feelings that you communicated with when neither of you felt like talking. But, now you had questions that needed to be answered. Explanations were to be given in full, with no room for misinterpretations.

"Well enough," he sighed, taking a seat next to you on the couch. The light from the candles flickered across his face, settling his features into deep shadows.

"You can't keep carrying on like this," you put the cup down on the table to take his hands in yours. "You can't spend your days watching over a family that doesn't want your attention."

His large hand covered yours. "And you can't keep whisking me off whenever you think I need space."

"If I don't, then you'll get yourself into trouble," you laughed incredulously.

"You care too much, Darling."

"So do you."

Your eyes bore into his. Blue swirls of oceanic waves calmed as his gaze softened and he looked away.

"This isn't..." he trailed off.

"Isn't it?" you asked softly. The motions of the relationship were there. The late night discussions of the future which somehow always included each other without any room for another vision. The dinner dates. The feelings... even if they weren't freely admitted.

"We can't."

You squeezed his hand. "We can. We just need to know when to let go." You dropped his hand.

"Could you let go?" his eyes focused on the flames.

"If I must." You waited a moment before adding. "If you wished it. Could you?"

"I've never been very good at letting go," he said with a wry smile.

There was a storm hidden behind the seemingly innocuous words.

"We can't keep stealing moments like this."

"Can't we?" You nudged his shoulder with yours. "We're already ghosts. Why can't we be thieves as well?"

"You have people who need you," he pressed.

"I need you more," you replied.

"I thought you said you could let go," he smiled.

"I lied," you smiled back.

The fire was dying down, the roaring blaze now no more than a fading light. A shiver went down your spine.

Obi-Wan lifted the side of his robe. You tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. There was a weight to the kiss, a weight that was heavier than the diadem you were used to wearing.

"Obi-Wan-"

"You don't have to say it," he said gently, pulling you closer.

"I love you," you continued, wanting to say it, wanting to set the words free, to breath life into them and make them real.

He looked down at you and gently traced the pad of his finger down the curvature of your forehead to the tip of your nose. He leaned forward to bump his nose against yours. "I love you, too."

A heat settled in your chest. You knew he didn't have to say it. In fact, you knew that he wouldn't have said it in another life, in a previous life, because saying those words scared him. They meant admitting fallibility. They meant admitting attachment. He would show the feeling behind those words, but he would never had said them.

The two of you rested in a comfortable silence, warming yourselves in the presence of each other. Outside, you could hear the storm beating against the walls, but in here you were safe. Somewhere beyond lay the Empire and uncertainty. But here, in his arms, you were home and you were known.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader

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willowsblood · 5 years

Text

SIM OC QUESTIONS (50)

50 QUESTIONS FOR YOUR SIM

sim’s name: Lady Brimstone

How old is your sim? I have been around since the beginning of time.

When is your sim’s birthday? Every time you strike a match baby!

What is your sim’s zodiac sign? Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius they are all in my domain.

What is your sim’s ethnicity? A little smoke... Some sparks and embers.

Does your sim have any nicknames? Sparky

Do they have a job? If so what is it? Too keep you my sweeties warm! And to destroy everything that I touch :)

Where does your sim live? I can start up anywhere :)

Who does your sim live with? Everyone!

What environment did your sims grow up in? (strict, loving, cold etc.) I have lived in many environments. I love dry places. Invite me in dearie :)

What are your sim’s favorite foods? I tend to like Barbecue or charred.

What is your sim’s favorite drink? Kerosene, oil, petrol! I love me some Molotov cocktails :)

If they have one what is your sim’s favorite color? Orange, yellow, black and white.

Does your sim believe in any clichés? (love at first sight) "You light my fire.”

What is your sim’s sexuality? Everyone loves to cuddle up and watch me :)

What is your sim’s gender identity? I am a lady.

Is your sim blood type a or type b? I will make yours boil.

Is your sim introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

What is your sims favorite woohoo position? If you play with me make sure you have a fire extinguisher. So your wieners or buns don't get toasted.

Is your sim a pet person? If so what is their favorite animal? Sure... Most critters love warmth.

Does your sim have a best friend? The wind :) he takes me anywhere I want to go. And Mr. Flint he starts me off to a good day.

What is/was your sim’s favorite school subject? Welding class :) I cause lots of sparks.

Is/was your sim a high, mid or low achiever in school? Low they kept putting me out where ever I popped up. But my alarm was very popular :)

Are they planning to go or have they already been to college? If so, what would be or what was their major? Oh yes! I have burnt down many.

What are your sims political beliefs? (if they have them) I am always involved in riots.

What is one thing your sims wants to do before they die? Oh... I die so often I have no idea.

Does your sim have a favorite tv show (cable) and/or movie? I love the movie Firestarter! She is soooo cute :)

Is your sim a Netflix viewer? If so what are their top 3 shows. I am not allowed to be near the television.

Does your sim like books? If so what’s their favorite one? I looooove books. They make a good starter for a wonderful time.

Does your sim enjoy video games, if so what is their favorite one and do they play on pc or console? I play a fire mage in World of Warcraft.

What is your sim’s personal style? I like to be sparkly :)

Does your sim have a lucky charm? Lightning :) Quick start for me to be free.

Is your sim religious? I am a fire goddess you know!

What kind of music does your sim listen to and who is their favorite artist? Burn baby burn! The roof... the roof is on fire!

Is your sim a festive person? If so what’s their favorite holiday? The Forth of July. If your not careful those fireworks will start a lovely party.

What is your sim’s favorite type of weather? Dry so I can go out and have fun.

Does your sim prefer to start fights or finish them? Ohhh how I start them.

Does your sim have a dream job? I would love to work in a furnace.

Does your sim have any siblings? I have many. They all live out in California.

Does your sim get along with their family? Oh yes we are very warm and loving. We also like to party!

What is your sims favorite hobby? I like wood burning.

What does your sim look for in a romantic partner? I love ones who ignite me fast.

What is a secret about your sim? I am afraid of water.

What is a wish your sim has? I wish people wouldn't wreck my fun and keep putting me out.

What is a flaw your sim has? I die easily.

How do others generally perceive your sim? I have been told I am dangerous. I don't think so. I think I am fun.

Does your sim have a greatest achievement? If so what is it? I have burnt down many important monuments.

If they have one, what is your sim’s greatest regret? Being snuffed out before I rage :(

Does your sim have a favorite emoji? Star eyed smiley

Does your sim use simstagram? If so what’s their @? I post pictures of how pretty I am.

What is the last text your sim sent (and who did they text)? I have gone through sooo many phones. I melt them constantly.

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frivery · 2 years

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I wrote the first part of this segment quite a while ago and then just left it to waste away in my drafts, somewhat forgotten. So this fits in between the part “Seeing the Royal Tailor” and “Vier’s first command”. I’m adding this in later because I do think this part actually lends itself well to later parts and I probably should have finished it sooner. Apologies for any writing style shifts, the first part was written almost a year ago now.

Meeting a Royal guard.

First part is here, the piece before this is here, if you want to read those. The next part is here.

The King quietly ran a hand through his hair, trying to refocus on the dry book on etiquette he had been left to read. Technically, he could have said no, could have refused been treated like a child, but Brigan was quite a bit older than he was not to mention more experienced in governing and he didn’t really want to put his best ally in a mood. The information was important to his image moving forward, it was essential, but he had been reading the hefty tome for hours and he could feel his eyes glazing over every time he tried to continue. He had never been the scholarly type, he had been a knight instead of a courtier for a reason.

Frustration threatened to further pull his focus from him, small self-aggravated embers threatening to catch fire to his brain like dry cotton. Vier took a long, drawn out, breath as he sat back and looked at the ceiling. The more he thought on things the less sense it made that Valenin and Vinren had left him in charge, they both knew of his anger management problem and surely that would be devastating for a Kingdom. Vier slouched into his chair, pushing away from the heavy dark-wood desk as he ran both of his hands through his hair to better ground himself the purple shade of his sleeve momentarily catching in the light. It had only been a few days since he had seen Panorus, the Royal Tailor, so he obviously hadn’t got his specifically tailored garments but Brigan had been insistent on him looking the part of King. So, here he was, wearing a deep purple robe that had once been his advisor’s. Brigan had insisted that wearing his clothes for a few days wouldn’t cause any problems, that no one would notice, but Vier still felt vaguely uncomfortable every time he remembered that he was wearing things that didn’t belong to him. If anyone had noticed they had made no comment, in fact the elf had been right about it changing the way others responded to him. He supposed he looked more regal now than he had in his shabby armor. Still, his discomfort with the awareness of who owned the sparkly piece and his unfocused irritation were probably not the best match.

“Having trouble, your Highness?” speak of the devil and he shall appear, Brigan was so quiet on his feet that anytime he entered a room without knocking Vier would get quite the startle, and this being an open study meant that the High Priest had no reason to knock. Now he was only further on edge, it was difficult not to blame the elf for his mood.

“Hm? No, I’ve just been sitting here for hours so I’m getting restless...” bound up energy made him want to move, but the sharp gaze of the High Priest kept him from doing so. Turns out that he had a lot of tics; leg bouncing, picking at his hands, chewing on his lip, shifting his weight... just not holding still and the elf had been rather intent on him reframing from doing that in company. Something about appearances.

“Have you seen the grounds of the whole palace yet?” Vier raised an eyebrow at the question, before shaking his head in response. “I could give you a tour, then, a King should know his Kingdom. It would also be a good time to introduce you to the Royal Guard, seeing as we currently have no captain of the Guard they will be answering to you directly for the time being so it would be wise to know them” oh thank Shadowbinder’s grace, something to do that wasn’t staring at paragraphs of when to use honorifics. The imperial got to his feet, maybe a little too eagerly, correcting the wrinkles in the silk garb as he quickly moved to stand near the elf.

“Your etiquette instructor should be here tomorrow evening, I apologize that I have not been more active in your lessons.” he wasn’t sure if that successfully doused any lingering aggravated sparks in him or just further inflamed them.

“You’ve been busy keeping the Kingdom together, I can’t complain about your methods.” not yet, anyway, he didn’t know the first thing about politics, or economics, or how to speak with the people as a ruler. Eventually, he would know enough to start making the choices himself but for the time being Brigan might as well be King and Phatom his advisor. Vier let out another frustrated breath at his own incompetency, one that the councilor definitely noticed, before gesturing towards the open-mouthed entrance to the study.

“After you, Your Majesty.” the elf noted, Vier nodding shortly and swallowing a little uncomfortably at the title before crossing the wooden floor and stepping out into the familiar halls of the palace.

“Where are we going, exactly, that I should be leading?” He found himself asking, glancing at the high-priest who tilted his head to him in turn.

“The Armory, I am sure you know where it is, yes?” Brigan responded, while the tone that the golden man used was polite and airy he still couldn’t help but bristle at the words. They made him sound incompetent, like he didn’t even know where the simple things in the palace were even though he had once lived amongst the guards.

“Of course I do, what kind of question is that?” he snipped back, crossing his arms and trying to ignore the sparkling purple that tried to catch his eye at the gesture, Vier crossing the larger, grand, hallway to quickly slip into one of the smaller side-ones that he was more familiar with. He could feel Brigan giving him a look more than he could see it, not bothering to look back at his advisor as he continued to lead through the many ‘servants’ corridors.

“Why are we back here, Your Majesty?” Vier frowned further at the question, looking towards the floor to avoid scowling too openly. Not that anyone was walking this corridor in order to judge him for it.

“What do you mean? You said the armory, this is the way to get there.” The imperial responded in a less-than-kind tone, a quiet hum from the High priest followed his words.

“It is a way to get there, yes, but why are we using the Servant corridors? Do you fear being followed?”

“No, why would I?”

“Why would a King use the hidden passages meant to be used by his subjects?” Brigan reflected, the King opened his mouth to make a smartass response before closing it again. Realization slowly falling over him as to why the elf had been asking him that. He was a King now, not a Squire, and while he knew the palace by using these passages... they would make him look fearful. Either of assassination or of being seen. Vier bit his lip, tapping his fingers on his arm as he realized his mistake, though he continued to walk through the small corridors without responding to the spymaster’s words.

“Your Majesty?” Brigan prompted, to which the imperial only responded with a hum of affirmation. “You should not take my words personally. I am here to help you, it is not my intention to insult, merely correct. It would not bode well for us if someone else made the correction instead.”

What he said was true, if another noble or a trader noticed his frequent slip-ups it would be bad news for the image of their Kingdom, but still the way Brigan instructed him often made him feel like a child.

“I know that, but it almost feels like you use intentionally insulting words.”

“Does it, Your Majesty? What would I have to gain from insulting a King?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Vier retorted, his aggravation refusing to quiet though it was no longer threatening to spill over.

“Your Majesty.”

“What.”

“Put your hands down, your shouldn’t bite your nails.” he hadn’t even realized he was doing it, the light taste of blood in his mouth told him it wasn’t his nails he had been chewing on, the King swallowed thickly before dropping his hands back to his sides. Frustration, and shame, and embarrassment, burned in him in a sickening concoction, stressed nausea filling his insides. He was trying his best, he spent all of his time studying those stupid books, he hadn’t been trained or taught how to do any of this, why couldn’t people just... go easy on him for a bit.

“Your highness.” Brigan’s voice had a sharper edge this time, Vier glancing over at the elf as they stopped before the armory doors, he was so on auto-pilot that one of his hands were already on the door to open them. “Stop biting your fingers, its unseemly.” Oh, at some point between the last time Brigan had told him to stop and getting here he had started doing it again. A small amount of blood lingering on his fingers when he dropped his hand once more. He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t allowed to, and he wanted to lash out.... but he wasn’t allowed to. He wasn’t allowed anything except perfect composure. Were Kings not people too? He didn’t recall his father having to be some seamless.

For a long moment they stood outside of the Armory, Vier unwilling to meet the eyes of his advisor and continuing to stare at the marble floor, it being an active act of will to not immediately return to the habit. He wasn’t sure how long they would stand there for, neither saying anything, but he wasn’t left to wonder for long.

The door beneath his hand pulled away, causing his attention to turn from the cold floor to the entity now right before him. An elf man, skin darker in tone than both his and Brigan’s, the man was taller than he was by a few inches, posture regal but not painfully so, with a vibrant pink tattoo peaking out of his armor. Blue... armor. Vier’s eyes dropped to the platemail, the imperial’s eyebrows knitting together briefly before he took a small step away from the man.

Gauntleted hands followed his movement, blue metal taking his wrist and pulling his hand once more away from his face, the guard’s other hand moving to cover the imperial’s now somewhat bloody one as if to protect his fingers from himself.

“Your Lordship.” the blue-armored man greeted with some amount of gratitude to the other elf, only now did Vier look up to examine the man’s face. His eyes were bright golden-yellow, warm, like the glow of the sun’s rays... and he was actually somewhat familiar. Ser Hydrangea, a Knight that was one of the Guards that frequented the Kingdom gates. They had sparred once or twice in the past. What was he doing here... and why was he wearing different armor?

“Ser Hydrangea, thank you again for taking this post. I am sure I do not need to explain to you how important it is that his Majesty be properly defended.”

“It is my great honor to serve.” the elf responded, and Vier didn’t doubt that he meant it considering the warm conviction in his voice. Something close to devotion.

“I am afraid that I have much to get done today, would you be so kind as to show the King the entirety of the palace grounds? He’s not familiar with all of it yet.” He wasn’t sure if he should take it personally that Brigan was pawning him off onto someone else so quickly... or if he should take it as proof of how much work the man was doing in his steed.

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Ser Hydrangea, I have all confidence in your abilities. Please, excuse me.” Vier didn’t have to turn to know that the golden elf had quickly left. Leaving him with a somewhat familiar guard... still not really sure what was happening here. The tattooed elf’s full attention turned to him now, the man opening his mouth as if to say something before some amount of realization crossed his features.

Gracefully, the knight kneeled before him, bowing his head deeply in some kind of respect... or reverence. It was... weird seeing one of the Knights kneel before him of all people... Ser Hydrangea had once been someone he had aspired to be like... and now that man was kneeling in front of him. It would be one thing if he deserved it... but the only thing that had changed was that he was a squire no more. He was a King and he had done nothing to earn it. The thought kicked up the swirling emotions in the pit of his stomach, Vier watching quietly as the familiar knight made his belated introduction.

“I promise on the Goddess that I will never harm your Majesty, and that I will defend against those who would betray or endanger his highness’ life or good name. That I will not deceive him or take what is his, and that all of my honor is now in belonging to Your Majesty.” an oath, the imperial swallowed, he had never actually... heard it before. He had been but a squire, a knight-in-training, he didn’t know the words. It felt almost funny that this would be how he learned them. “I am at your service, my king, my life is yours.”

Vier stared down at the knight, silent for longer than he perhaps should have been, he felt sick with thoughts and spiraling doubts. He did not deserve an oath such as that, he had done nothing to earn it. Still, Hydrangea waited patiently on the floor, for... something.

“I.. thank you.” he managed, probably not how he was supposed to respond and his embarrassment spiked right after the words tumbled out of his mouth. The Knight smiled, an understanding smile, as he got back to his feet and dipped his head.

“I am Ser Jeremiah Hydrangea, just encase you don’t happen to remember me from... before, your personal guard for the time being... if that is agreeable with Your Majesty that is.”

Jeremiah. He didn’t think he had ever actually heard Ser Hydrangea’s first name. He, honestly, hadn’t even really thought about the fact that he... had one.

“Oh, uh, yes. That... is... fine?” his anxiety continued to remain on alert, he was so bad at this. Why was he so bad at this? And why did he get left in charge, he had no idea what he was doing. Why would-

“Breath in-” confusion at the instruction but one that he subconsciously followed. “And out.”

The elf guard repeated this pattern a few times, voice low and soothing and quiet. Like it was meant for only him to hear. Only when Vier had reached whatever point Hydrangea had deemed ‘good enough’ did the elf take a small step back.

“I know that a lot is being asked of you right now, it’s as if the world expects you to change into someone else over night, but you don’t have to fret when it’s just us, okay? I’m no nobleman, no politician, you don’t have to be perfect, for me you’re doing enough. And Brigan can be... fickle, but he’s not judging you. He’s just trying to help, in his own weird way. With us you are allowed to make mistakes, don’t beat yourself up over them, alright?” the casual, comforting, way of talking was one he hadn’t heard since the night his adopted father had left him in charge.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” the words fell out before he could stop them, an admission to his uselessness, some overwhelming emotion pulling at him and threatening to end any attempt at holding himself together. A dam with too much water.

“Hey, that’s okay, calm down. You’ll figure it out, it’ll just take time, and you have Brigan and Phatom to help you until you do. Just try your best, that’s all anyone could ever ask of you.” a hand placed on his shoulder, cold metal but still a very personnel gesture that made Vier feel like... a human again. He hadn’t been trying at this long, he was wearing his advisor clothes for Shadowbinder’s sake, but he still felt like there was more he could be doing. That he should be better even if it had only been a couple days.

“Come on, I’ll can show you around the palace some other time. I think a break is probably a better idea for you right now, okay?”

“I don’t have time for a break.”

“You aren’t going to be very useful at your lessons like this, are you? You’ve made yourself sick with all of the overthinking, how are you going to retain anything you read?”

“I’ll get people killed if I mess up.” there was a long moment of silence following these words, they were weighty and he could feel them pulling him down even now that they were out.

“I.... you’re right, Ser, but you could make every right choice and people could still die. Your majesty still needs rest, overworking will make you... him less effective and more prone to making... misjudgments.” a sudden pulling back from Ser Hydrangea, like he had suddenly realized that he was talking to... a King and not a squire anymore. The imperial frowned, immediately regretting the sudden separation, but nodded shortly.

“Yeah... I guess you’re right. Thank you for the advice, Ser Hydangea.” he responded in a sigh, turning away from the armory. He almost moved to re-enter the same side-hall that he had used to get here.... but he was a King. So, onto the main hall he began his walk, discomfort settling in his hands. He’d have to get used to this... all of it. It was what was required of him.

“Your majesty?” the guard prompted, following a few paces behind.

“Yes, Ser Hydrangea?”

“For what it is worth, I will protect you no matter what choices you make. As I swore to.”

“..Thank you, Ser Hydrangea.”

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whispers-of-gallifrey · 6 years

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As We Sit By the Fire

This is my @classicwhosecretsanta gift for @monsterfisken, who asked for Nyssa and Tegan hurt/comfort. I’m...not sure about this, but I really hope you like it! I’ve also done another fic that doesnt follow any of your prompts, but I got the idea from them so I’ll post that next. Happy Holidays!

Set after Emerald Tiger, but before Prisoners of Fate

There are approximately 17 sitting rooms in the TARDIS, all located somewhere within the vast confines of the Gallifreyan ship. Approximately because the TARDIS likes to change things up every so often and the Doctor is never entirely sure whether it’s a new room he’s stepped into or if it’s Room 3 but with a different carpet, or is it just Room 1 every time?

Anyway, this story takes place in what is probably Sitting Room 12, but it might be 18. In any case, it’s a room with sofas and armchairs and a fire.

The atmosphere of this room was warm and welcoming. The aforementioned fire crackled and flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The scent of pine needles hung in the air- the source of which was a large tree in the corner. Despite its positioning, this was the centre piece of the room, adorned with sparkly tinsel and ornate baubles (in his 3rd regeneration, the Doctor tried to claim these had been given to him by a God-like creature in the Mutara Nebula, but Jo said they looked exactly like the ones she’d seen in the antiques shop last week.)

It was positively cosy, and should have been a room entirely at peace.

So naturally, an argument was taking place.

“I don’t understand, Doctor,” Turlough complained, “Why are we celebrating Christmas?”

“Because, Turlough, it’s been roughly a year- relatively speaking of course- since we last celebrated it. Besides it’s rather good fun!”

“It also means we get cake and presents!” Tegan chipped in helpfully

Turlough looked at her.

“Oh come on, Turlough! Don’t be such a Scrooge!”

“Doctor! Tegan’s using Earth culture references again!”

“Well, you should know that one- you went to school!”

“Yes, and I do not need to be reminded of the time spent listening to my English teacher droning on and on about how this guy was dead to begin with!”

The Doctor stepped between them, arms raised in defence. “Alright, alright you two. Tegan, stop winding him up- don’t argue- Turlough, we are celebrating Christmas as a group and that means getting on, okay? I’m not putting up with you two squabbling any more till this holiday is over.”

The two exchanged sullen glances (although both were on the verge of bursting into laughter at the other’s expression.)

“Right! Good that’s sorted. Now, I am going to see if there’s anywhere or time on Earth we could visit that you would enjoy.”

“Good luck actually arriving there,” Tegan muttered.

The Doctor gave her a look that told her he wasn’t even going to dignify that response with an answer, then left the room.

—

“All I wanted to know was why we only seem to celebrate Earth holidays- holidays from merely one religion at that! Why do we never do one of mine – or Nyssa’s?”

Tegan had been about to reply with ‘you barely talk about your home- it took an entire kidnapping for us to even know something!’, but the mention of Nyssa silenced her. Their companion was in the room, yet hadn’t spoken at all- which wasn’t unusual in itself- but she hadn’t even attempted to stop their bickering, which was unusual.

Glancing towards their peacemaker, they saw she sat in the armchair, gazing deeply into the fire. The soft glow reflected of something on her cheeks. Tear tracks.

Tegan and Turlough turned to face each other and, in the silence of their stare, they came to an understanding. Turlough mumbled a non-specific excuse and dashed out the door. Tegan made her way carefully over to Nyssa.

“Did Turlough really just mumble “a non-specific excuse”?” She joked.

Nyssa made no indication of having heard the quip and continued to observe the fire, as if it held all the answers.

Tegan’s demeanour changed in an instant, from sarcastic Australian, to concerned friend. She stepped closer, making to perch on the arm of the chair; slowly she reached her arm out to place it round the Trakenite’s shoulders.

At the contact, Nyssa glanced up, eyes glistening with untold sadness.

“Oh…Tegan, sorry I didn’t notice…” she trailed off, eyes returning to the fire.

“Hey, hey it’s alright,” Tegan’s usually abrasive voice was soft and soothing, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s n-nothing Tegan. I’m fine.” Nyssa dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her jacket, carefully ignoring Tegan’s stare. It wasn’t a very convincing lie.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to guess and you know what my guesses are like!”

Nyssa let out a shaky laugh at this, hopefully remembering the last Christmas the TARDIS team celebrated together, where they’d played charades and Tegan spent 10 minutes trying to guess what Adric was acting. Suddenly that moment felt, to her, like an eternity ago, and it must have felt even longer for Nyssa. When she’d left she’d been younger than Tegan, and now she was many years older.

And we’ve swapped one annoying brat for another, Tegan thought, trying to ignore the pang of grief tugging at her memories.

Her happy memories of all the banter, the frustration of all the arguments, the calm of the private moments she shared with Nyssa. Their family had changed so much-

That’s when it clicked.

Family.

“You- you miss your family don’t you?” she asked, emotions suddenly threatening to overwhelm her.

Nyssa nodded, then whispered, her voice catching slightly, “All of them.”

Tegan wasn’t certain on how to respond, so she asked: “Do you want to talk about it?”

–

Nyssa’s first instinct was to shake her head, but she knew bottling it up would only cause it to overflow at a later date- better get it done now, then she’d be better prepared to help others later.

Taking a deep breath (and a moment to consider her words) she began:

“All this talk of mentioning Christmas, it makes me think of all the other festivals and holidays in my life- making me realise all I’ve lost. I miss everything. I miss my family. My father, my mother, Kassia.

“On Traken we had this festival of light. It would be celebrated at the completion of every orbit our planet made of the sun, to remind us…”

The sun was beginning to set for the final time in that rotation. Dying rays of dazzling orange cast dark shadows across the land. It was not a scary sight; these shadows were dancing along with their owners, to the soft melodies that hung in the air. In a few moments, the lanterns would be lit, holding the light until it was the sun’s turn to lift it again. The festival would continue until the rays began to peak above the horizon, signifying the new beginnings for the Traken Union. Despite the advancing darkness, the atmosphere was light, laughter intertwined with the music and love was at the very core. The laughter and love were at their strongest between a group of three people. A man, a woman, and a young girl. The girl was wearing a brand-new dress; flowers adorned her chestnut hair. The other two were her parents, laughing at her joy as she swayed to the music, loving with all their hearts as she came back to them for hugs. They say Utopia cannot theoretically exist, but this must be the closest ever achieved.

–

Tegan’s own eyes were glistening with tears after listening to Nyssa recount the beauty that was Traken in the twilight.

“Wow…that sounds so…perfect…”

“It was. Back then, those nights felt like they would never end. But now-” She took a shaky breath. “But now they’ll never start again.”

Tegan gazed into Nyssa’s eyes. Eyes full of so much sorry and tragedy, but Tegan knew they could shine bright with hope and intelligence, and she’d do all she could to bring that back.

—

It was a few moments before either of them spoke, and when they did, they began discussing Nyssa’s children

“They’re the most wonderful children anyone could ever ask for. Neeka is strong and brave- she’s like you Tegan. A bit sarcastic and argumentative but she always knows what’s right. Adric is intelligent like his namesake – though he definitely eats less!” The two laughed gently at that.

“And Lasarti- he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. He’s kind and…I love him”

Tegan tried to ignore the jealousy twisting at her heart. This was about Nyssa, not her feelings.

“Tell me more about them. What holidays do you celebrate on Terminus then?”

“The last thing we celebrated together was Lasarti’s birthday…"

The girl had spent hours trying to perfect the cake. It was slightly more difficult that synthesising an enzyme, but it was manageable. It had to be perfect. Her brother was creating a distraction to prevent their father from discovering the surprise, asking him hundreds of questions about his work- a topic the boy usually showed no interest in. When the cake was finally complete, the girl presented it with a flourish. Their father laughed in delight and declared it a masterpiece, although it was a little burned in places and she'd accidentally used salt instead of sugar in the top layer. Their mother looked on, smiling softly. Her son made the cake for her birthday and it had been an interesting mess of colour. They spent the evening playing games and the boy repeatedly refused to admit he was in the least bit tired because he's a teenager now and doesn't need to be told what to do. He fell asleep curled up to his sister, who fell asleep on top of him. The parents shared an adoring glace and decided to sleep in there with them.

"...And, despite all the horrors in the outside world, it was so cosy and peaceful…” Nyssa trailed off, the warm atmosphere fading like the embers in the fire “…t-that was the last time we ever spent together as a family”

“Nys…” Tegan replied softly, her heart breaking.

Nyssa brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Tears ran anew down her cheeks.

“I lost my parents, Adric, my family. I lose everyone. I’m- I’m cursed! Don’t you see, Tegan, it’s only a matter of time till I lose you too!”

“You won’t lose me. I won’t leave you”

“You left before”

“No. You left me at Heathrow. And besides, you left too. But we both came back and that’s what matters.”

“You’ll get back to them, Nys. You’ll deliver the cure for Richters and save millions- billions of lives! You’ll become a universal hero and your children will love you more than ever!”

Nyssa lifted her head and gave a tearful smile. “I appreciate the sentiment Tegan, I wish I had your optimism.”

Tegan hugged her tightly, impulsively, “You will see your children again Nyssa. You will. They’ll be overjoyed to see you and you’ll celebrate so many holidays together” She paused, “…but at least make the most of these ones too”

Nyssa gazed up at Tegan, and returned the hug, “I will.” She pressed a kiss gently to her cheek and whispered

“Thank you”

—

“Ah, there you are,” the Doctor stepped into the room, “You know, I could have sworn this room was closer to the console room. Anyway, we’ve managed to land at a Frost Fair in London so if you…”

He trailed off as he noticed his two companions. They were curled up together like kittens in the armchair, fast asleep, expressions of peace and contentment on both of their faces.

#classicwhosecretsanta #monsterfisken #doctor who #Nyssa of Traken #tegan jovanka

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