Post by ladydetemps on Jun 10, 2007 17:56:09 GMT
Please give generously to Timeline. Anything you can spare: days, hours, even seconds could help. Remember, there are people out there who are desperate for dates.
“Time is relative, lunch times especially so, as someone once said to a human,” mused the Doctor. “There is nothing quite like a quintessential picnic for a relaxing lunch.”
He laid the blanket down on the silver grass beside the basket containing lunch. Taking off his green velvet jacket and rolling up his sleeves he took out a small radio tuning it to a random frequency. His companion made an odd face, like someone who had smelt something rotten, on hearing the traditional Gallifreyian tune floating out of the speaker.
“Can’t you find something else to listen to?” asked Cyrin.
The Doctor had acquired this companion on a short jaunt through the Yantis-Beci system. To cut a long story short he had got into a little fracas with the locals and Cyrin had helped him escape. The only polite thing to do in that situation was to ask her along for the ride. To his surprise she had agreed without hesitation. On offering her the choice of anywhere in time or space she had decided that they should visit his home.
“This is public broadcasting…try adjusting the frequency I’ve got to get the picnic set out and the dampening field in place before the ants decide to charge en-mass.”
She leaned over and tapped the controls, it wined as it scrolled through the channels. Suddenly she heard a voice through the static which slowly became stronger till she could discern the words.
“Please give generously to Timeline. Anything you can spare: days, hours, even seconds could help,” said the serious male voice. “Check down the back of sofas or in the pocket of that old jacket, you never know some loose seconds might be there. We are waiting for your calls. Time is short and only you can help.”
“Is that for real? Is time…malleable like that?”
“Yes…for a Time Lord anyway. It’s quite the valuable commodity. Now eat up,” he said handing her a jam sandwich. “Before the wasps get ideas.”
“Time is relative, lunch times especially so, as someone once said to a human,” mused the Doctor. “There is nothing quite like a quintessential picnic for a relaxing lunch.”
He laid the blanket down on the silver grass beside the basket containing lunch. Taking off his green velvet jacket and rolling up his sleeves he took out a small radio tuning it to a random frequency. His companion made an odd face, like someone who had smelt something rotten, on hearing the traditional Gallifreyian tune floating out of the speaker.
“Can’t you find something else to listen to?” asked Cyrin.
The Doctor had acquired this companion on a short jaunt through the Yantis-Beci system. To cut a long story short he had got into a little fracas with the locals and Cyrin had helped him escape. The only polite thing to do in that situation was to ask her along for the ride. To his surprise she had agreed without hesitation. On offering her the choice of anywhere in time or space she had decided that they should visit his home.
“This is public broadcasting…try adjusting the frequency I’ve got to get the picnic set out and the dampening field in place before the ants decide to charge en-mass.”
She leaned over and tapped the controls, it wined as it scrolled through the channels. Suddenly she heard a voice through the static which slowly became stronger till she could discern the words.
“Please give generously to Timeline. Anything you can spare: days, hours, even seconds could help,” said the serious male voice. “Check down the back of sofas or in the pocket of that old jacket, you never know some loose seconds might be there. We are waiting for your calls. Time is short and only you can help.”
“Is that for real? Is time…malleable like that?”
“Yes…for a Time Lord anyway. It’s quite the valuable commodity. Now eat up,” he said handing her a jam sandwich. “Before the wasps get ideas.”
