Title: Words Of Power Author:badly_knitted Characters: Tenth Doctor, William Shakespeare. Rating: G Written For: Challenge 089: Witch, Spoilers: The Shakespeare Code. Summary: Where there’s a Will, there’s a way. Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who, or the characters.
50 more drabbles written in response to Challenges 51-100 over at dw100. There are a couple of Season 5-related fics, but they are clearly labelled for spoilers.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow as Rose and Jack joined him.
"You might have mentioned this is a matriarchal society. Jack tried his charms on the wrong woman."
"Her friend with the head crest wanted to skin me alive."
Turning from one to the other as they described their ordeal, the Doctor felt like he was watching a tennis game. "So what does that have to do with Jack's new accessory?"
"The ladies thought it'd help keep my pet in line." As Rose handed the leash to the Doctor, she whispered in his ear. "But I think he likes it."
The trio was still cleaning up at times, finding the odd bit of debris or mud on their clothes from the dash back to the TARDIS. A wrong bit of technology seen and they'd almost been burned at the stake.
They had retreated to the library to recover. Tegan snatched up the crumpled and almost hidden piece of paper discarded next to where Turlough was sitting, expecting another bit of trash. This time she saw writing and unfolded it, and realized she was reading a private note in Turlough's English schoolboy handwriting, a note he'd been intending to pass to the Doctor. He was leaning over in the chair writing it again, snickering, unaware the first had fallen.
Eyes narrowed, fist on hip, she huffed and handed the prior note to the seated Time Lord, but her gaze was fixed on the Trion. "You're the genius, Doc'. Tell him he spelled "Witch" wrong."
The Witch Challenge (100 words, PG, 1st Doctor) ................................
She rechecked the device. He would land here, and soon. Reclining on the slope, she crushed a promethean match between her teeth to light a cigar and gave further thought to her name. She could really do with one. Something pithy. The... something. Quickly bored, she revisited the Rani's death throes, they'd been fun.
Then she heard it. His Type-40. Somewhere above. She stood, brushing away dust, eyes searching out the blue box. There it was, teetering on the edge. How diverting. Unfortunately it fell; striking her on its descent, it came to rest far below.
badly_knitted
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