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21 April 2026 18:32There are things about forever, really, when it comes down to having entirely too much time to play with. Oh, not play in the way that her spouses’ tended to do, but in the way that she did. Clara and Me had a long time to play, and at some point there had been a game of chicken that involved the two of them and the Library and the ghost in the machine within. Perhaps it had started with a lark or a joke, wanting to actually meet the great River Song in the flesh, but in the end two immortals, taking the longest and slowest road that one could to return a TARDIS had made a pit stop and picked up a wife, who in turn ended up with a new wife of her own.
What, River song actually behave?! Oh never behave when one is having a holiday.
It truly was meant to be an actual honest to goodness holiday for her! There was to be no disasters, revolutions, assignation attempts, or once in a lifetime generational events. The only things that River Song had wanted had been a real sun, real sand, real water, and real hyper vodka mixed with water lightning berries and jaret fruits. That was why she’d landed here just in the alley via her trusty vortex manipulator but entirely dressed the part. Sun hat, a pair of perhaps familiar and perhaps not black sunglasses, blue sundress over a truly scandalous bikini, sandals, and even a wicker bag that had much bigger pockets on the inside than it should have.
And of course an easily accessible gun or two. While it’s meant to be a vacation, River Song will always be River Song.
Tilting her head upwards, one hand extended up to push the button on the glasses before she felt a soft yet oh so familiar nudge at the back of her mind and it settled like a cat as the thought curled between her hearts. The sensation of home was one that the library had attempted to replicate more times than River could count, no matter how larger what her mother had called her ‘time head’ had become it hadn’t been enough. Clara’s and Me’s TARDIS had tried, bless her, but it simply wasn’t the same as this.
River’s eyes welled with real tears, and she could feel them scalding against her cheeks in ways the simulation never could quite match and she turned and faced that ever familiar facade. “Hello Mother,” River said in a way that was almost shyly, as if like when she met her father or mother or her husband she’d needed to suss out their times. But the Doctor had said his goodbyes to her properly now, and she’s not certain if the TARDIS is going to approve of all of this or not. Almost as if she’d believed it might burn her, River brushed her fingers against the keyhole, and then further down to the handle. Given everything, her inability to sort which pocket her actual key is currently residing in at present is presumably forgiven.
But the door opens, and it starts in both familiar and yet not murky tones. Ah, so it’s this one. River has been here of course, so many times, but this is the first time that she’s actually had her real heels tread over the floors. It’s a bittersweet feeling this, one last (or first perhaps, if she should decide to count. It is why she’d kept the apparent age somewhere in the middle of when they’d done most of their running together. That version of her face carried the best and worst of her memories; it seemed like it fit.) introduction to a new console, letting herself be filled in about just how much River should slap Her Thief for and so on. But the furthest that Melody Pond got was the overwhelming sense of relief when her hand touched glass.
What, River song actually behave?! Oh never behave when one is having a holiday.
It truly was meant to be an actual honest to goodness holiday for her! There was to be no disasters, revolutions, assignation attempts, or once in a lifetime generational events. The only things that River Song had wanted had been a real sun, real sand, real water, and real hyper vodka mixed with water lightning berries and jaret fruits. That was why she’d landed here just in the alley via her trusty vortex manipulator but entirely dressed the part. Sun hat, a pair of perhaps familiar and perhaps not black sunglasses, blue sundress over a truly scandalous bikini, sandals, and even a wicker bag that had much bigger pockets on the inside than it should have.
And of course an easily accessible gun or two. While it’s meant to be a vacation, River Song will always be River Song.
Tilting her head upwards, one hand extended up to push the button on the glasses before she felt a soft yet oh so familiar nudge at the back of her mind and it settled like a cat as the thought curled between her hearts. The sensation of home was one that the library had attempted to replicate more times than River could count, no matter how larger what her mother had called her ‘time head’ had become it hadn’t been enough. Clara’s and Me’s TARDIS had tried, bless her, but it simply wasn’t the same as this.
River’s eyes welled with real tears, and she could feel them scalding against her cheeks in ways the simulation never could quite match and she turned and faced that ever familiar facade. “Hello Mother,” River said in a way that was almost shyly, as if like when she met her father or mother or her husband she’d needed to suss out their times. But the Doctor had said his goodbyes to her properly now, and she’s not certain if the TARDIS is going to approve of all of this or not. Almost as if she’d believed it might burn her, River brushed her fingers against the keyhole, and then further down to the handle. Given everything, her inability to sort which pocket her actual key is currently residing in at present is presumably forgiven.
But the door opens, and it starts in both familiar and yet not murky tones. Ah, so it’s this one. River has been here of course, so many times, but this is the first time that she’s actually had her real heels tread over the floors. It’s a bittersweet feeling this, one last (or first perhaps, if she should decide to count. It is why she’d kept the apparent age somewhere in the middle of when they’d done most of their running together. That version of her face carried the best and worst of her memories; it seemed like it fit.) introduction to a new console, letting herself be filled in about just how much River should slap Her Thief for and so on. But the furthest that Melody Pond got was the overwhelming sense of relief when her hand touched glass.
