"You know, the boy's sixteen. He can cut his own damned sandwiches." Eva pulls the banana leaf up to her waist and takes the brick-sized mobile phone. You could bludgeon a large dog to death with this sort of thing. It weighs as much as her head. After a few screechy reminders of how far out of range they are from anything resembling a modern cell tower, she sets the mobile phone down on a rock. Wouldn't do to get sand in the stupid thing.
She lays down on the sand and stares at the sky, a dark black void with the stars bleached out by the fire burning down next to her. With her head so close to the flames, it feels as if her curling, twisting locks of hair are hot lengths of metal wire, but it doesn't occur to her to move herself out of the immediate heat.
She closes her eyes and waits for the Doctor but, as always, he's late. Unlike last time, she doesn't go looking for him. Instead she rolls over to her side and curls up into a fetal position, clutching the crumpled edge of the banana leaf close to her breast. As she exhales deep grains of sand skitter away from her breath. She trusts the Doctor to come back, and so she's relatively relaxed and slips into dreams easily.
It's still dark when she wakes up, muscles tense and fingers twitching. She's clutched the banana leaf so hard that her fingernails have ripped through it and dug red indents into her palms. The side of her face that was on the ground has sand outlining where her tears and snot were while she slept, dried to her face. She sits up and wipes it away, along with whatever dream plagued her. Lost to the beach, another tiny, incidental piece of a greater whole.
She shakes sand out of her hair and looks over the firepit, long since burned out.
sure thing!
She lays down on the sand and stares at the sky, a dark black void with the stars bleached out by the fire burning down next to her. With her head so close to the flames, it feels as if her curling, twisting locks of hair are hot lengths of metal wire, but it doesn't occur to her to move herself out of the immediate heat.
She closes her eyes and waits for the Doctor but, as always, he's late. Unlike last time, she doesn't go looking for him. Instead she rolls over to her side and curls up into a fetal position, clutching the crumpled edge of the banana leaf close to her breast. As she exhales deep grains of sand skitter away from her breath. She trusts the Doctor to come back, and so she's relatively relaxed and slips into dreams easily.
It's still dark when she wakes up, muscles tense and fingers twitching. She's clutched the banana leaf so hard that her fingernails have ripped through it and dug red indents into her palms. The side of her face that was on the ground has sand outlining where her tears and snot were while she slept, dried to her face. She sits up and wipes it away, along with whatever dream plagued her. Lost to the beach, another tiny, incidental piece of a greater whole.
She shakes sand out of her hair and looks over the firepit, long since burned out.
"Doc? Did you make it back?"