Iris Wildthyme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
routemistress) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
axis_access2016-01-19 01:43 pm
routemistress) wrote in axis_access2016-01-19 01:43 pm
How Could I Let You Go [closed: Rani/Swing]
[After this.]
83-9-87-00:54 from Galactic Zero Centre.
It's not a long drive. Iris has become so used to this particular piece of her past being declared a foreign country, a closed border, that it feels strange, nearly wrong, to be able to just roll up as though she were popping into 1890 to pick up those Belgian minted truffles Barbara likes, or Sirius B for dog treats.
And yet here she is. She sits in the driver's seat, waiting for the sinking weight under her lungs to subside, until Maria the microraptor picks up on her mood and starts chirring and scratching inside her pet carrier.
"Shut it, you manky prehistoric feather duster."
She says it affectionately enough that Maria pokes her snout out of the bars to beg for scritches, and Iris obliges, letting the little saurian's soft feathers and rabbit-fast heartbeat engage her senses and distract from her thoughts long enough to impel her out of the bus and start walking.
She didn't ask, she remembers, if the Rani's new research station had defenses. She recalls the story of Lakyerta - exploding bouncing bubbles, for fuck's sake - and forcing ugly laughter like spitting up broken glass while she heard it, pasting amusement over her eyes like shards of mirrors.
"And they call me crazy for loving the Barge," she tells Maria. She is unconcerned about defenses. She puts one foot in front of the other as though each step were only a step.
(Soundtrack)
83-9-87-00:54 from Galactic Zero Centre.
It's not a long drive. Iris has become so used to this particular piece of her past being declared a foreign country, a closed border, that it feels strange, nearly wrong, to be able to just roll up as though she were popping into 1890 to pick up those Belgian minted truffles Barbara likes, or Sirius B for dog treats.
And yet here she is. She sits in the driver's seat, waiting for the sinking weight under her lungs to subside, until Maria the microraptor picks up on her mood and starts chirring and scratching inside her pet carrier.
"Shut it, you manky prehistoric feather duster."
She says it affectionately enough that Maria pokes her snout out of the bars to beg for scritches, and Iris obliges, letting the little saurian's soft feathers and rabbit-fast heartbeat engage her senses and distract from her thoughts long enough to impel her out of the bus and start walking.
She didn't ask, she remembers, if the Rani's new research station had defenses. She recalls the story of Lakyerta - exploding bouncing bubbles, for fuck's sake - and forcing ugly laughter like spitting up broken glass while she heard it, pasting amusement over her eyes like shards of mirrors.
"And they call me crazy for loving the Barge," she tells Maria. She is unconcerned about defenses. She puts one foot in front of the other as though each step were only a step.
(Soundtrack)
no subject
There are defenses. But nothing so crude as the bubbles or even trip-wires. As soon as Iris sets foot on the walkway that leads from the landing zone to the TARDIS, a force-field crackles into place. Touching it feels like stroking a cat the wrong way.
Simultaneously, an alarm goes off inside the TARDIS.
The Rani mutters an imprecation under her breath; she can't take her eyes off her microscope now; she's been monitoring the gamete formation all afternoon and it's nearly done, for Rassilon's sake. "SWING!" she shouts, not looking up. "What's going on out there?"
no subject
The various traps and alarms, though, were some of his favourite developments. Nothing better than knowing exactly what was going off around you.
He was peering outside as soon as the alarm went, and before Rani shouted for him. "There... is awoman. With a... um. Kind of dragon? In aportable ...cage?" He wasn't at all sure how to describe it. There were no such things on the Disc. "Do you... know her?"
A thought struck him, and he repressed the idea that if she didn't realise there were traps, then it was her own godsdamn fault. He called out to the woman he most certainly didn't know, "I... wouldstop there, if... I wereyou."
He didn't want to make that dragon angry, for a start.
no subject
"You the copper the Rani told me about? You don't look like a copper. I'm Iris. Tell 'er to..."
Tell her to get her head out of her spectroscope and put the kettle on, but the words die in her throat. She doesn't have the hearts to face the Rani with the cheerfully calculated rudeness Iris normally employs to clear her path of obstacles and objections.
"Tell 'er I'm here. Please."
no subject
She ducked back down to the microscope, cursing under her breath. Back to Swing: "Tell her—tell her just one minute. Literally one minute. Please."
The please ought to alert Swing that the Rani is actually just a wee bit emotionally agitated. Enough so that she is overwhelmingly conscious of her hearts pounding in her chest.
no subject
He paused for a moment, before sticking his head back around the door, less cautiously this time. He was still suspicious, but that was more of his natural paranoia than legitimate suspicion. The Rani knew who she was, clearly, which was probably a good thing. Even so, when someone turns up accompanied by a dragon, there was always room for concern and caution.
"She willbe with you... in a fewminutes." No pleasantries or small talk. That was not his style.
Curiosity, though, was. "Who are...you? Do you havebusiness... here?"
There was no chance of him answering a question about himself, though, unless pressed further.
no subject
"Iris Wildthyme, chuck. Transtemporal adventuress, interdimensional prison warden and three times intergalactic darts champion. I'll 'ave you know I 'ave business everywhere."
It's not as snappish as it could have been, though, and her smile remains undented.
"Why don't you nip back inside and put the kettle on? And maybe a saucer of milk for Maria 'ere, if you can lay 'ands on some lactase. That's a mistake you only make once."
no subject
"Finished," she mutters, a little note of triumph in her voice. She strides out of the lab to the front door, just in time to catch Iris asking for milk for the microraptor.
"You could have warned me you were bringing your pet," she says, severely.
It's good to see you, Iris.
no subject
He eyed the dragon-creature warily, "Does...itreally drink...milk?"
That was his main concern right now. He did not want to anger the creature.
He did step back though, partly to let the Rani past, partly to actually go and put the kettle on.
no subject
She does not duck her head, nor does she allow her voice to soften - well, not much. It's a good thing Swing is here to defuse her - whatever it is. Iris can't quite put a name to the emotions beating in her mind like an atticful of surprised bats. She addresses Swing without succeeding in taking her eyes off the Rani.
"Only when she can't get beer. She loves pork scratchings and all."
no subject
"Swing, we'll be along in a moment."
It's a rather less brisk dismissal than Swing might have heard from her before, but a dismissal nevertheless.
no subject
"I will... goand make... tea, then." There was actually a hint of sulk in his tone, but his speech pattern covered it to most observers. She was actually more polite than usual, but he couldn't work out why he was being dismissed just yet.
He'd find out. Soon enough. He disappeared to make some tea, but kept an ear out for their conversation.