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wintercompanion2008-05-14 01:02 am
sarkywoman.livejournal.com) wrote in wintercompanion2008-05-14 01:02 am
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sarkywoman: The Mythkeeper (Jack/Ten) [PG-13]
Title: The Mythkeeper
Author:sarkywoman
Challenge: Myth
Pairing: Ten/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None exactly, but allusions to 'The Empty Child', 'The Doctor Dances', 'The Sound of Drums', 'Last of the Time Lords','Parting of the Ways', and Torchwood series 1.
Summary: In a desert storm, two travellers take refuge in the tent of the Mythkeeper and she has many tales to tell them. Tales of Death, Lust, and the Oncoming Storm.
The Myth-Keeper
The elderly woman prodded the fire with her battered cane and peered closely at her guests. They had arrived in from the storm, though the storm had only just begun before their arrival. They had brought it with them. Others might say it was a bad omen, but withered old Peraxxa took a unique stand on bad omens. To her mind they were like bad boys, acceptable in that they made life more exciting, to be avoided if you were not confident in your abilities to handle them. And these two travellers looked like bad boys indeed. Twinkles in their eyes, both of them. Mischief. But then…Peraxxa had always been rather fond of mischief.
“Thank you so much for letting us in,” the slender man said, brushing sand out of his hair. “The storm caught us by surprise. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?”
“I am the Myth-keeper,” she replied to the inquisitive one, her gaze resting on the silent one. His position was that of a wary guard. He bore watching. She did not ask their names. Names were of no consequence. They told you nothing of a person’s soul.
“So…you keep myths?” asked Skinny.
“I do. I hold them as truth for the pilgrims.”
“Doubt you’ll get any pilgrims in weather like this,” said Wary.
Peraxxa chuckled. “I have you two. Tell me, what is it you seek? A tale of wisdom or courage? A story of love or truth? I hold all legends in my mind and will speak them to you, travellers.”
Wary raised an eyebrow, but Skinny was already intrigued. “Ooh, sounds fun. We need something to keep us occupied until we can get back anyway.” He tapped Wary on the knee. “You pick a theme.”
Wary rolled his eyes. “I don’t know…lust? You got any stories about lust?”
Skinny looked appalled at the obscene query, but Peraxxa just laughed. “Oh, I am asked for those more than you know. Very well then, a Myth of Lust.” She selected a bottle from the mat behind her. It was dusty. That was the problem with the desert, everything got so dusty. She pulled the cork out of the bottle and sloshed the contents of the glass container into the fire. It roared up to the top of her tent but as usual, left no scorch mark. Wary had pulled Skinny back when the fire rose, but now the slender man leant forward, staring in wonder at the deep red of the flames.
“Would you look at that? Have you ever seen such a red fire? It’s so…red!”
“I demand silence for the tale,” Peraxxa said, looking at the man sternly until he sat back with a smirk. Oh, he was most surely trouble. “My tale begins long ago and far away…”
“Of course it does,” grinned Wary. Skinny shushed him.
“My tale begins long ago and far away, in a prison ruled by an evil that sought to take the desires of a man and turn them into something dark and wicked….”
~
It came to pass in the early centuries of the technological age, that a Dark Emperor obtained rule over the planet of Uth and its species of Humun. He used trickery and manipulation of the mind to displace the former ruler and to imprison the noble heir to Uth and his valiant bodyguard.
The heir to Uth was a beautiful creature of wild, golden hair and dark, golden eyes. He possessed power unimaginable, but was kind and forgiving and so was reluctant to use his power to escape or harm his captor. The Dark Emperor knew this and exploited it, imprisoning the Heir in the deepest, darkest depths of the prison while tragedy rained down on the innocent Humun-kind.
The Dark Emperor longed to have soldiers of strength and ability on his side. Although the world was his, Evil can never be satisfied. It hungers always for more power. The Heir held phenomenal gifts, but his ability and beauty was rivalled only by his desire for peace, so the Dark Emperor could not make him into a soldier. So he turned his sights to the Captain of the Heir’s Guard. The man was renowned for his prowess in battle and had survived many wounds that ought have been fatal.
The Dark Emperor offered power and glory to the imprisoned man, but every offer was refused. The Captain was as noble as he was valiant. Tortures unimaginable were visited upon his body, but still the Captain refused. He claimed the Dark Emperor could give him nothing worth betraying the beautiful Heir. The Dark Emperor used his power to read the Captain’s thoughts and found this to be true, for the Captain loved the Heir deeply and unswervingly. This did not deter the Dark Emperor, however. The wicked man was a Master of manipulation and saw his opportunity in the Captain’s feelings. For Humuns possessed capability for great nobility, but also for great depravity. And though the Captain’s heart was apt to burst with the strength of his affection, his loins held a fierce passion for the lovely Heir. He wished to worship him sexually, but was too noble to act on selfish impulse. Instead he chose to guard the Heir with his life.
It was not difficult for the Dark Emperor to stage a fitting incentive for the Captain’s loyalty. The first attempt was a verbal offer, a mere vow that should the Captain join the Dark Emperor, the Heir’s beauty would belong to him.
The Captain was tempted to gain possession of the Heir so that he might better protect him from the Dark Emperor’s madness, but he knew that pledging allegiance to the Dark Emperor would be a torturous bind for him and the Heir. So he told the Dark Emperor that he could not accept such a malicious bargain.
The Dark Emperor thought that perhaps he would need to provoke the man’s lust by more than just words. He took the Heir from his dungeon, chained him, and took him to the Captain. Though the Heir’s imprisonment had thinned him and made him pale, he was still a most beautiful sight to behold. The Captain was almost overwhelmed by the loveliness of the Heir, bound at his feet, but still he was not enticed into the Dark Emperor’s schemes.
But the Dark Emperor did not give up easily. Using his powers over the mind, he corrupted the mental essence of the Heir, filling the beautiful creature with a perverted lust, then released him into the Captain’s cell.
The Captain was horrified by the violation of his sacred treasure’s mind, but he could not deny the call to his physical needs as the beautiful Heir danced against him like an incubus. Soon the Captain was unable to control his desires and sought to satiate his lust in the body of his Protected. As he began to disrobe the hedonistic creature, the Dark Emperor told him that the corruption of the Heir’s mind was contagious darkness. Should the Captain indulge, he would become equally as warped and he would be easily twisted into a soldier of Darkness.
The Captain fought valiantly against the needs of his own traitorous flesh but was forced to admit defeat. With tender caresses and soothing words, he brought the corrupted Heir immense pleasure. At the moment of climax, a miraculous thing happened. Rather than becoming corrupted by darkness, the Captain’s deep love for the Heir restored the beautiful creature’s purity and instilled within him the Captain’s noble courage.
Newly-empowered by the love of his Guard, the Heir was able to justify the use of his own power to stop the evil of the Dark Emperor once and for all. The beautiful Heir and the valiant Captain became benevolent rulers of Uth and their union was that of holy legend, forevermore.
~
“…So, what lessons have you learned through the Myth of Lust?” Peraxxa asked the two men. Skinny was looking thoughtful, Wary had a glazed expression.
“I believe the moral you’re trying to impart is that lust must go hand in hand with love,” Skinny said with the air of an intellectual. “Otherwise it causes corruption.”
“Nothing wrong with a little corruption,” mumbled Wary. He was clearly still considering the erotic aspects of the tale.
“Oh trust you to say that,” Skinny snapped, batting Wary lightly on the leg.
“Your friend has found the moral,” Peraxxa said to Skinny, who looked rather affronted.
“I’m sorry? The moral is that corruption is okay? But…but…it’s corruption! Corruption is by its very nature undesirable,” he spluttered.
“Which means it cannot be synonymous with desire,” explained Peraxxa wisely. “Lust is not in itself a corruption. It is an appreciation of beauty and a wish for pleasure. The Captain’s gentle treatment of the Heir severed the psychic link between physical intimacy and corruption, destroying the Dark Emperor’s hold.”
“Ohhh,” Skinny realised, “displacement of psychic connotations. Very clever.”
Wary leaned back and pulled the tent flap aside. A gust of wind carried a pile of sand into Peraxxa’s tent and Wary pushed the flap back to its original position. “If anything, the storm’s getting worse.”
“Then you have little recourse but to hear another tale,” said Peraxxa with a smile that she suspected might be rather smug. She liked talking to these strange travellers. She had seen many pilgrims from across the Universe, but these two wanderers were quite unique. They considered her words, did not just absorb them or dismiss them in an instant like all others she had regaled. It seemed she was either worshipped or ridiculed, with nothing resembling common sense in-between. “What would you have me speak of? Life or death?”
Skinny’s eyes briefly flashed with something ancient, which disappeared swiftly behind the veneer of warm youth. Peraxxa’s fingers absently traced a protective symbol into the sandy ground. The slender man sighed. “Well, I know I should say life because death is…such a weight. But I’m too curious to hear what you have to say on the matter. I have trouble making sense of it myself.” Wary’s hand covered Skinny’s to lend a subtle comfort.
“Very well then, a Myth of Death.”
“Death isn’t a myth,” interrupted Skinny, voice hard.
“No, but my myth concerns it. Is it only by contradictions can we know truth? Is light only known by darkness, good by evil? Is it only through Death that we know life? Or is it possible somehow to know the essence, to feel the nature of life untainted by Death? This story is famed across the Universe, only my style of telling might make it new for you, for you have undoubtedly heard it.” Again Peraxxa selected a bottle from the mat. She poured it over the red flames, extinguishing the fire. Then, to the surprise of the two travellers, the fire rekindled its own flame. Not to the red inferno of before, but to its original height and shade. Peraxxa extinguished it again to be sure, and again the fire rekindled. And again.
“It keeps coming back…” Wary observed.
“Indeed. And so does the hero of my myth. For the tale I am about to tell you concerns the plight of the Immortal…”
Skinny gripped Wary’s hand tighter.
~
There lived a man of passing greatness. A man of disastrous mistakes and brilliant solutions. He had killed and he had saved. He knew man’s potential for good and evil, and he explored both. He lived wildly, recklessly, travelling the galaxies and treating each day as though it were his last.
His last day was soon upon him, impulsive creature that he was. Caught in a battle betwixt demons known as the Exterminators and the God of Death. Death saw a fine warrior in the man and enlisted his services to defeat the demons. The man was flattered by the honour and fought bravely, sacrificing his life that he might grant Death the time the God needed to gather his power and destroy the demons.
Once Death was victorious he knew that he had to collect the souls of all those who had died for his glory. He travelled around the battleground, sending the spirits of the departed on their way with words of gratitude. When he reached the body of the brave man however, he felt the grief of loss for the first time. The man had shown more fortitude and courage in battle than Death had ever seen and it had won the God’s hearts, the Gods possessing two hearts to show their superiority. Death chose not to end the man’s life permanently. He knew that if he did not collect the man’s spirit, the man would eventually return to life. But he also knew that a mere touch between them would send the man’s spirit to the afterlife. Fearing he would be unable to abstain from contact, Death forced himself to leave the man’s body on the battleground and fled across the Universe.
The man awoke, immortal and alone, surrounded by corpses. He thought that he had somehow survived the battle. Though his heart broke at the belief he had been abandoned by Death, the man was adaptable to all things and travelled the galaxies once more until he found a place to call his home.
Though he had settled in a death-stricken land to await his God’s inevitable return, the man continued to live as recklessly as before. A part of him knew that if only he could die, that would bring Death to him and he could see the glorious being once more. But soon he realised that Death would never come. The man frequently perished, but never remained deceased. He was Immortal. Though this discovery would have pleased many, it was a devastating fact for the Immortal, as it meant he would never again know Death.
Deprived of his desired reunion, the Immortal chose to try and deprive others of it. He could not accept that other people would perish and see his glorious Death. The Immortal began to preserve lives, no longer taking pleasure in the slaughter of others. Settled in the land of Kardiv, the Immortal protected people from forces that would steal their lives. This won him a reputation as a hero, though he remained discontent.
A century passed in which the Immortal lost and gained acquaintances and friends. Though he had tried to remain aloof for fear of being abandoned once more, the Immortal found himself fighting with soldiers that he had great respect, admiration and affection for. What was more, they returned those feelings. The Immortal found himself content with people who loved him. Until one day the soldier in charge of minor duties around the camp, such as record-keeping and refreshment, was killed in battle. Death arrived to collect him, but the Immortal stood between them.
Death explained to the Immortal what had transpired on the battleground, how he had chosen to spare the Immortal out of gratitude and deep affection. Due to the Death’s uncontrollable power that destroyed all who got too near, he and the Immortal could never be together. They could only converse at times of death and destruction.
The God of Death demanded the soul of the fallen soldier. The Immortal refused. He no longer wanted to keep people from Death out of jealousy. Now he did it out of respect for the lives they had to live. Time with his soldiers had shown him how precious life was and had made him appreciate Death’s gift of immortality. So although he no longer sought to die, the Immortal stood between Death and the fallen soldier. To take the fallen man’s soul, Death would have to finally kill the Immortal.
Tortured by the decision, Death granted the man a temporary reprieve. The soldier would not die for another hundred years, but when that time came, the Immortal would have to leave this life behind and travel with Death until the God could gather the emotional strength to end him.
The story goes that one-hundred years later, Death came to claim his Immortal. And the Immortal became just another man. But unlike other men, he was carried to the afterlife in the loving arms of Death himself.
Even now there are instances where Death spares a life, where people survive disaster when there seems to be no hope. It is because of one brave, flawed man, who learned the sanctity of life through being deprived of it, then taught Death himself its true value.
~
This tale was met with silence by the two men. Indeed, it had brought rather serious expressions to their faces. The story of Death was usually met with more cheer, since it held a life-affirming message and also suggested that Death was a force that could be reasoned with. But the two travellers seemed troubled by her tale.
“Death,” Skinny said in a miserable tone. He turned pained brown eyes to Wary. “The God of Death?”
Wary wrapped an arm around him. “Ssh, you know they change a story until it sounds good. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Peraxxa watched, intrigued, as Wary tried to comfort the slender man. It was not difficult to see who had been worse affected by the tale. What had the men seen in her myth that had provoked such an unusual reaction? “I apologise if my story has upset you, though I do not see how it could be. Perhaps…you have knowledge to impart to me?”
“You wouldn’t want to know,” said Skinny. “Trust me.” He sighed. “Has the storm abated yet?”
Wary leaned out of the tent and came back with a face covered in sand. “No. We’re stuck here for a while longer.”
“Perhaps you would like to hear another story?” Peraxxa suggested. She enjoyed see the peculiar reactions to her tales. It was as though these two men came from somewhere outside of culture, unspoiled by contemporary knowledge and references. They had not even alluded to the well-known and much-debated similarities between the God of Death and the legendary ruler of Xaan. It was like they were from another time, as well as another world.
“I don’t think we want anymore myths,” snapped Wary, whose protective gaze rested on Skinny’s quiet and thoughtful form. The slender man had brought his knees up to his chest and seemed to be in deep contemplation.
“I have Myths of great and wonderful things,” Peraxxa argued. It had been a very long time until someone had disrespected her knowledge. “Need I remind you that you chose the last story? If you are going to be so sensitive, pick a less upsetting topic. Trust, money, or cosmic balance, I have myths regarding them all.”
Wary took a deep breath as if to snap at her again, but Skinny’s quiet voice interrupted him before he began. “Cosmic Balance, then. Tell us a tale about that.”
Peraxxa smiled. “Ah. Wonderful. I do so enjoy telling the tale of the Chaos Couple.”
“The Chaos Couple?” echoed Wary.
“Yes. It is a myth of wild wanderers and a love story and explains the existence of Chaos in our Universe. Though I must warn you, it lacks the formality of my other tales…”
“Ah, a lack of formality.” Wary grinned and moved closer to Skinny. “I like that. So…the Chaos Couple. Don’t they get individual names?”
“But of course. They were not always as one. Where is the thrill in a love story that begins with true love? No, once upon a time they were known separately as the ‘Oncoming Storm’ and the ‘Rogue of Time’.
Wary nudged Skinny, who was starting to cheer up a little. “Should be interesting.”
Peraxxa brought another bottle forward and scattered its drops in random spots on the fire. The fire began to flicker in frenzied patterns, its flames licking out at the three gathered around it.
In the dancing shadows, she began to tell her favourite tale.
~
The Universe needs Chaos. That much is certain and well-known. What is less well-known is that the Chaos of the Universe was the product of wild union between two mythical beings.
One of these beings was a God. The Gods were responsible for the Order of the Universe. The dreariness of the task sent them all into an eternal slumber. All save one, the God known as the ‘Oncoming Storm’. He had always disregarded the responsibilities of his brethren and only when they were gone did he cling to the rituals that he had once abandoned, longing for the lost clarity of moral and emotional Order.
The other being of consequence to our tale was once a Time Nymph. His people took the role of the slumbering Gods and ensured Order was maintained in the Universe. The Time Nymph of our tale grew tired of the repetitive Order and struck out alone into the Galaxy, becoming known as the ‘Rogue of Time’. He grew to love the wild whimsy of tricks and Chaos, though a part of him missed the safety of the Nymphs’ regulations and planned strategies.
It was destined that the Oncoming Storm would cross paths with the Rogue of Time. Their first meeting was on a battlefield, though they fought for neither side. They were each drawn to the Chaos. Their conflict was their own, though its impact resonated throughout the Universe. The Rogue of Time still possessed the power of the Nymphs, though he hoped to misuse it to cause Chaos instead of Order. The Oncoming Storm wished to preserve some semblance of Order, out of respect to his sleeping brethren.
The Rogue of Time sought to infect the warring species with a malevolent plague to incite Chaos and disorder. The plague was one of Nymph creation, made to destroy aberrations in Time.
But the Oncoming Storm could not allow such madness. He still longed for the Order that his people could not maintain. Knowing that violence would go unnoticed in the midst of a war, the Oncoming Storm chose to reason with the Rogue of Time.
The God’s rectangular vessel was deep blue and contained energies of creation from the dawn of time. The Storm himself appeared in his darkest form, intending to strike fear into the Rogue’s heart. But the Rogue of Time had fallen too far into Chaos to respect the authority of the figure. Rather than being intimidated, he felt enchanted. As a figure of Chaos in a Universe of Order, the Rogue of Time could sense the wild hearts that beat within the God’s chest. He knew this was not one who had maintained Order, or else he would have been lost with all his kind.
“I sense great power in you,” said the Rogue. “Will you join me in disrupting the oppressive Order of the Universe?”
“I will not assist you in harming these people,” replied the Storm. “They are innocent and deserve peace.”
The Rogue disagreed. “They deserve excitement and thrill.”
“Your plague will destroy them all,” said the Storm.
“Not all,” the Rogue argued with a charming grin. “Some will survive. Isn’t it wonderful not to know who? Order would have it so that all survived without event until a particular age. Order would have life predictable.”
“And tell me,” the Storm enquired, mind as quick as lightning and voice as ominous as thunder, “what Chaos these people will accomplish in death? In death, all are predictable.”
The Rogue of Time considered this and was forced to admit its truth. Chaos would only be found in life, death being the only certainty of existence. He abandoned his attempt to release a plague on the people. He asked to follow the Oncoming Storm in his path and was welcomed onto the blue vessel of the Gods. His request was born of desire. He wished to see the Chaos beneath the Storm’s disguise of Order. Knowing that in the act of love, all were beasts, the Rogue of Time embarked on a quest to seduce the Oncoming Storm. This was not a simple task, as the God remained in his foreboding form, not changing his countenance for one-hundred years.
In their travels, the Rogue frequently attempted to cause disharmony in the Universe. The Oncoming Storm always stopped him with wit and cunning logic, convincing the trickster that his plans would only uphold Order.
A century after their first meeting, the Oncoming Storm was mortally wounded stopping one of the Rogue’s chaotic schemes. The Rogue of Time was stricken with guilt and prayed day and night for the Storm’s survival. He swore that he would cease his plans of Chaos forevermore if the God survived. Because, as it was destined to be, the Rogue of Time had fallen in love with the Oncoming Storm.
The Storm heard his prayers and used what power he had left to regenerate anew. This time, to reward the Rogue’s desperate oath, the Storm chose a dazzling form of great beauty and left behind his disapproving darkness forever.
Once more they travelled together. The charming Rogue of Time and the beautiful Oncoming Storm. But all was not as it was. No longer in his strictest form, the Oncoming Storm felt dissatisfied with the Order of the Universe. Everything was in its place and there was a place for everything. For the first time in centuries, the God tired of his people’s Order once more. He could see now, the meaning behind his own words spoken over a century ago to his friend. Death was Order. Life ought to be Chaos. He told his friend, the Rogue, of his epiphany. But in his grief over wounding his love, the Rogue of Time had sworn to uphold Order and he reminded the Storm that Chaos could bring pain.
But the Oncoming Storm was resolute in his plan to bring Chaos to the Universe. For people may have been safe from physical danger, but they were afraid to feel, afraid to love, and what is life without emotion? It is Ordered. It is Death.
So the Oncoming Storm travelled back to the creation of the Universe with the dream of disrupting Order before it could take hold. But the Rogue of Time was confused and distressed. He did not wish for the danger of Chaos any longer. In a Universe of Order, his God was safe.
“But my dear Rogue of Time,” said the Oncoming Storm, “Don’t you feel passion for me?”
The Rogue agreed that he did, but could not see how this was of consequence.
“It is of consequence because I too adore you. We could act upon our love, feel desire and longing and deep affection. But I could never allow myself that unless I knew that all beings in the Universe shared the same permission. People were not made to be cold. They are warm and full of hope. Order only hides their feelings, it does not take away the pain of them. Now tell me, is our love worth fear? Is our passion worth pain? If you tell me it is not, then I will leave the Universe in the Order that eternally silenced my holy brethren and suffocates the minds of all sentient creatures.”
The Rogue of Time thought on this. He did not argue with his beloved. He embraced the Oncoming Storm and kissed him, a gesture he had desired for over one-hundred years. Chaos bloomed in their hearts and drove them to wild passion in the unmade Universe.
The creative energies of the vessel carried the Chaos of their union out into the darkness. The Rogue and the Storm took one another for hours, their passions burning after years of unnatural abstinence, their bodies demanding pleasure after pleasure. Around them, the Universe came into being. But this time, it was not with a foundation of Order. The Universe shook with the energy of Chaos and all beings were born into Chaos. Order still existed, but only through work and necessity. People laughed, cried and loved without feeling it to be unnatural.
The story goes that the Oncoming Storm and the Rogue of Time live to this day, undying like the Chaos that they produced in the heart of existence. Some say they wander Time and Space observing the happiness that would not have existed without their passion. Some say they soothe the tears of those tortured by their passions. They are benevolent, they are love, they are Chaos.
And they are Eternal.
~
When Peraxxa opened her eyes, she saw the two travellers were watching her intently. Both men were smiling. Wary held Skinny close, almost in his lap.
“I liked that one,” Skinny said almost shyly.
“Me too,” sighed Wary. “It was beautiful.”
Peraxxa dabbed away the tears in her eyes then wrung out the rag over the fire. A single teardrop was all that could be produced, but it extinguished the fire instantly. “So now you know how our Universe came to possess love, passion and chaos. We owe it all to the Chaos Couple.”
“Do you have more stories?” asked Skinny, eagerly. “That one was really lovely. Wasn’t it, Jack?”
‘Jack’ nodded with a fond smile then leaned back and opened the tent flap. “The storm has stopped, Doctor.”
“Well that doesn’t matter now,” said the ‘Doctor’. “I’m really getting into these myths!”
‘Jack’ chuckled. “Narcissist.” He put on a false, pompous tone of voice. “These myths are about me, how droll, I must listen.”
“Oi, I am not a Narcissist! I merely find the exaggeration of our history is a fascinating topic!”
“Yeah, yeah, fascinating. As if I needed anymore wet dream fodder. Wake me up when we’re screwing in the heart of the Universe.” ‘Jack’ grinned cheekily. “Can we go back and do it for real now? Get down and dirty in your blue vessel, oh Oncoming Storm?”
Peraxxa stood to her full height and stamped her cane angrily on the floor. “DO NOT MOCK MY GODS!” It took a lot to anger her, but the Chaos Couple were beloved to her and should never be mentioned with anything but respect.
‘Jack’ and the ‘Doctor’ backed down, looking at her nervously. “Sorry,” said the ‘Doctor’. “We meant no disrespect. But…you see…” he looked over at ‘Jack’, who shrugged. “We are the Chaos Couple. Really.”
Peraxxa hissed at them. She had regaled them with glorious tales of wondrous things and they repaid her with scorn! “LEAVE!” She screeched. The travellers stumbled out of her tent. After a few moments, she heard their voices outside, only a short distance away.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. It’s like, ten metres from the fucking tent. Ten! How could we have missed that?!? We sat in there listening to those old wives’ tales for ages when we could have just walked in a straight line!”
“With the storm up we had no way of knowing how close we were,” the ‘Doctor said soothingly.
“But you always know where the TARDIS is!”
“Not always.”
“Oh come off it, you blatantly knew.”
“Maybe I wanted to hear a story.”
“If you wanted a bedtime story, you only had to ask.”
“Oh stop it, ‘Rogue of Time’. You know you liked those stories too.”
“Maybe they were kind of cool. Just some of them were a bit…depressing. Not to mention frustrating.”
“Well maybe you’ll get lucky and the next species we encounter will corrupt me mentally and use my body to seduce you.” There was a pause, then the sound of something slamming. “What? Oh Jack, don’t be like that!” The voice got quieter, as though being blocked by something or shut away. “What did I say?”
Then…a very strange noise echoed around the desert. Peraxxa went to the tent flap and pulled it aside.
Just in time to see the blue vessel of the Gods transport the mischievous Chaos Couple from her world.
Author:
sarkywomanChallenge: Myth
Pairing: Ten/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None exactly, but allusions to 'The Empty Child', 'The Doctor Dances', 'The Sound of Drums', 'Last of the Time Lords','Parting of the Ways', and Torchwood series 1.
Summary: In a desert storm, two travellers take refuge in the tent of the Mythkeeper and she has many tales to tell them. Tales of Death, Lust, and the Oncoming Storm.
The Myth-Keeper
The elderly woman prodded the fire with her battered cane and peered closely at her guests. They had arrived in from the storm, though the storm had only just begun before their arrival. They had brought it with them. Others might say it was a bad omen, but withered old Peraxxa took a unique stand on bad omens. To her mind they were like bad boys, acceptable in that they made life more exciting, to be avoided if you were not confident in your abilities to handle them. And these two travellers looked like bad boys indeed. Twinkles in their eyes, both of them. Mischief. But then…Peraxxa had always been rather fond of mischief.
“Thank you so much for letting us in,” the slender man said, brushing sand out of his hair. “The storm caught us by surprise. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?”
“I am the Myth-keeper,” she replied to the inquisitive one, her gaze resting on the silent one. His position was that of a wary guard. He bore watching. She did not ask their names. Names were of no consequence. They told you nothing of a person’s soul.
“So…you keep myths?” asked Skinny.
“I do. I hold them as truth for the pilgrims.”
“Doubt you’ll get any pilgrims in weather like this,” said Wary.
Peraxxa chuckled. “I have you two. Tell me, what is it you seek? A tale of wisdom or courage? A story of love or truth? I hold all legends in my mind and will speak them to you, travellers.”
Wary raised an eyebrow, but Skinny was already intrigued. “Ooh, sounds fun. We need something to keep us occupied until we can get back anyway.” He tapped Wary on the knee. “You pick a theme.”
Wary rolled his eyes. “I don’t know…lust? You got any stories about lust?”
Skinny looked appalled at the obscene query, but Peraxxa just laughed. “Oh, I am asked for those more than you know. Very well then, a Myth of Lust.” She selected a bottle from the mat behind her. It was dusty. That was the problem with the desert, everything got so dusty. She pulled the cork out of the bottle and sloshed the contents of the glass container into the fire. It roared up to the top of her tent but as usual, left no scorch mark. Wary had pulled Skinny back when the fire rose, but now the slender man leant forward, staring in wonder at the deep red of the flames.
“Would you look at that? Have you ever seen such a red fire? It’s so…red!”
“I demand silence for the tale,” Peraxxa said, looking at the man sternly until he sat back with a smirk. Oh, he was most surely trouble. “My tale begins long ago and far away…”
“Of course it does,” grinned Wary. Skinny shushed him.
“My tale begins long ago and far away, in a prison ruled by an evil that sought to take the desires of a man and turn them into something dark and wicked….”
~
It came to pass in the early centuries of the technological age, that a Dark Emperor obtained rule over the planet of Uth and its species of Humun. He used trickery and manipulation of the mind to displace the former ruler and to imprison the noble heir to Uth and his valiant bodyguard.
The heir to Uth was a beautiful creature of wild, golden hair and dark, golden eyes. He possessed power unimaginable, but was kind and forgiving and so was reluctant to use his power to escape or harm his captor. The Dark Emperor knew this and exploited it, imprisoning the Heir in the deepest, darkest depths of the prison while tragedy rained down on the innocent Humun-kind.
The Dark Emperor longed to have soldiers of strength and ability on his side. Although the world was his, Evil can never be satisfied. It hungers always for more power. The Heir held phenomenal gifts, but his ability and beauty was rivalled only by his desire for peace, so the Dark Emperor could not make him into a soldier. So he turned his sights to the Captain of the Heir’s Guard. The man was renowned for his prowess in battle and had survived many wounds that ought have been fatal.
The Dark Emperor offered power and glory to the imprisoned man, but every offer was refused. The Captain was as noble as he was valiant. Tortures unimaginable were visited upon his body, but still the Captain refused. He claimed the Dark Emperor could give him nothing worth betraying the beautiful Heir. The Dark Emperor used his power to read the Captain’s thoughts and found this to be true, for the Captain loved the Heir deeply and unswervingly. This did not deter the Dark Emperor, however. The wicked man was a Master of manipulation and saw his opportunity in the Captain’s feelings. For Humuns possessed capability for great nobility, but also for great depravity. And though the Captain’s heart was apt to burst with the strength of his affection, his loins held a fierce passion for the lovely Heir. He wished to worship him sexually, but was too noble to act on selfish impulse. Instead he chose to guard the Heir with his life.
It was not difficult for the Dark Emperor to stage a fitting incentive for the Captain’s loyalty. The first attempt was a verbal offer, a mere vow that should the Captain join the Dark Emperor, the Heir’s beauty would belong to him.
The Captain was tempted to gain possession of the Heir so that he might better protect him from the Dark Emperor’s madness, but he knew that pledging allegiance to the Dark Emperor would be a torturous bind for him and the Heir. So he told the Dark Emperor that he could not accept such a malicious bargain.
The Dark Emperor thought that perhaps he would need to provoke the man’s lust by more than just words. He took the Heir from his dungeon, chained him, and took him to the Captain. Though the Heir’s imprisonment had thinned him and made him pale, he was still a most beautiful sight to behold. The Captain was almost overwhelmed by the loveliness of the Heir, bound at his feet, but still he was not enticed into the Dark Emperor’s schemes.
But the Dark Emperor did not give up easily. Using his powers over the mind, he corrupted the mental essence of the Heir, filling the beautiful creature with a perverted lust, then released him into the Captain’s cell.
The Captain was horrified by the violation of his sacred treasure’s mind, but he could not deny the call to his physical needs as the beautiful Heir danced against him like an incubus. Soon the Captain was unable to control his desires and sought to satiate his lust in the body of his Protected. As he began to disrobe the hedonistic creature, the Dark Emperor told him that the corruption of the Heir’s mind was contagious darkness. Should the Captain indulge, he would become equally as warped and he would be easily twisted into a soldier of Darkness.
The Captain fought valiantly against the needs of his own traitorous flesh but was forced to admit defeat. With tender caresses and soothing words, he brought the corrupted Heir immense pleasure. At the moment of climax, a miraculous thing happened. Rather than becoming corrupted by darkness, the Captain’s deep love for the Heir restored the beautiful creature’s purity and instilled within him the Captain’s noble courage.
Newly-empowered by the love of his Guard, the Heir was able to justify the use of his own power to stop the evil of the Dark Emperor once and for all. The beautiful Heir and the valiant Captain became benevolent rulers of Uth and their union was that of holy legend, forevermore.
~
“…So, what lessons have you learned through the Myth of Lust?” Peraxxa asked the two men. Skinny was looking thoughtful, Wary had a glazed expression.
“I believe the moral you’re trying to impart is that lust must go hand in hand with love,” Skinny said with the air of an intellectual. “Otherwise it causes corruption.”
“Nothing wrong with a little corruption,” mumbled Wary. He was clearly still considering the erotic aspects of the tale.
“Oh trust you to say that,” Skinny snapped, batting Wary lightly on the leg.
“Your friend has found the moral,” Peraxxa said to Skinny, who looked rather affronted.
“I’m sorry? The moral is that corruption is okay? But…but…it’s corruption! Corruption is by its very nature undesirable,” he spluttered.
“Which means it cannot be synonymous with desire,” explained Peraxxa wisely. “Lust is not in itself a corruption. It is an appreciation of beauty and a wish for pleasure. The Captain’s gentle treatment of the Heir severed the psychic link between physical intimacy and corruption, destroying the Dark Emperor’s hold.”
“Ohhh,” Skinny realised, “displacement of psychic connotations. Very clever.”
Wary leaned back and pulled the tent flap aside. A gust of wind carried a pile of sand into Peraxxa’s tent and Wary pushed the flap back to its original position. “If anything, the storm’s getting worse.”
“Then you have little recourse but to hear another tale,” said Peraxxa with a smile that she suspected might be rather smug. She liked talking to these strange travellers. She had seen many pilgrims from across the Universe, but these two wanderers were quite unique. They considered her words, did not just absorb them or dismiss them in an instant like all others she had regaled. It seemed she was either worshipped or ridiculed, with nothing resembling common sense in-between. “What would you have me speak of? Life or death?”
Skinny’s eyes briefly flashed with something ancient, which disappeared swiftly behind the veneer of warm youth. Peraxxa’s fingers absently traced a protective symbol into the sandy ground. The slender man sighed. “Well, I know I should say life because death is…such a weight. But I’m too curious to hear what you have to say on the matter. I have trouble making sense of it myself.” Wary’s hand covered Skinny’s to lend a subtle comfort.
“Very well then, a Myth of Death.”
“Death isn’t a myth,” interrupted Skinny, voice hard.
“No, but my myth concerns it. Is it only by contradictions can we know truth? Is light only known by darkness, good by evil? Is it only through Death that we know life? Or is it possible somehow to know the essence, to feel the nature of life untainted by Death? This story is famed across the Universe, only my style of telling might make it new for you, for you have undoubtedly heard it.” Again Peraxxa selected a bottle from the mat. She poured it over the red flames, extinguishing the fire. Then, to the surprise of the two travellers, the fire rekindled its own flame. Not to the red inferno of before, but to its original height and shade. Peraxxa extinguished it again to be sure, and again the fire rekindled. And again.
“It keeps coming back…” Wary observed.
“Indeed. And so does the hero of my myth. For the tale I am about to tell you concerns the plight of the Immortal…”
Skinny gripped Wary’s hand tighter.
~
There lived a man of passing greatness. A man of disastrous mistakes and brilliant solutions. He had killed and he had saved. He knew man’s potential for good and evil, and he explored both. He lived wildly, recklessly, travelling the galaxies and treating each day as though it were his last.
His last day was soon upon him, impulsive creature that he was. Caught in a battle betwixt demons known as the Exterminators and the God of Death. Death saw a fine warrior in the man and enlisted his services to defeat the demons. The man was flattered by the honour and fought bravely, sacrificing his life that he might grant Death the time the God needed to gather his power and destroy the demons.
Once Death was victorious he knew that he had to collect the souls of all those who had died for his glory. He travelled around the battleground, sending the spirits of the departed on their way with words of gratitude. When he reached the body of the brave man however, he felt the grief of loss for the first time. The man had shown more fortitude and courage in battle than Death had ever seen and it had won the God’s hearts, the Gods possessing two hearts to show their superiority. Death chose not to end the man’s life permanently. He knew that if he did not collect the man’s spirit, the man would eventually return to life. But he also knew that a mere touch between them would send the man’s spirit to the afterlife. Fearing he would be unable to abstain from contact, Death forced himself to leave the man’s body on the battleground and fled across the Universe.
The man awoke, immortal and alone, surrounded by corpses. He thought that he had somehow survived the battle. Though his heart broke at the belief he had been abandoned by Death, the man was adaptable to all things and travelled the galaxies once more until he found a place to call his home.
Though he had settled in a death-stricken land to await his God’s inevitable return, the man continued to live as recklessly as before. A part of him knew that if only he could die, that would bring Death to him and he could see the glorious being once more. But soon he realised that Death would never come. The man frequently perished, but never remained deceased. He was Immortal. Though this discovery would have pleased many, it was a devastating fact for the Immortal, as it meant he would never again know Death.
Deprived of his desired reunion, the Immortal chose to try and deprive others of it. He could not accept that other people would perish and see his glorious Death. The Immortal began to preserve lives, no longer taking pleasure in the slaughter of others. Settled in the land of Kardiv, the Immortal protected people from forces that would steal their lives. This won him a reputation as a hero, though he remained discontent.
A century passed in which the Immortal lost and gained acquaintances and friends. Though he had tried to remain aloof for fear of being abandoned once more, the Immortal found himself fighting with soldiers that he had great respect, admiration and affection for. What was more, they returned those feelings. The Immortal found himself content with people who loved him. Until one day the soldier in charge of minor duties around the camp, such as record-keeping and refreshment, was killed in battle. Death arrived to collect him, but the Immortal stood between them.
Death explained to the Immortal what had transpired on the battleground, how he had chosen to spare the Immortal out of gratitude and deep affection. Due to the Death’s uncontrollable power that destroyed all who got too near, he and the Immortal could never be together. They could only converse at times of death and destruction.
The God of Death demanded the soul of the fallen soldier. The Immortal refused. He no longer wanted to keep people from Death out of jealousy. Now he did it out of respect for the lives they had to live. Time with his soldiers had shown him how precious life was and had made him appreciate Death’s gift of immortality. So although he no longer sought to die, the Immortal stood between Death and the fallen soldier. To take the fallen man’s soul, Death would have to finally kill the Immortal.
Tortured by the decision, Death granted the man a temporary reprieve. The soldier would not die for another hundred years, but when that time came, the Immortal would have to leave this life behind and travel with Death until the God could gather the emotional strength to end him.
The story goes that one-hundred years later, Death came to claim his Immortal. And the Immortal became just another man. But unlike other men, he was carried to the afterlife in the loving arms of Death himself.
Even now there are instances where Death spares a life, where people survive disaster when there seems to be no hope. It is because of one brave, flawed man, who learned the sanctity of life through being deprived of it, then taught Death himself its true value.
~
This tale was met with silence by the two men. Indeed, it had brought rather serious expressions to their faces. The story of Death was usually met with more cheer, since it held a life-affirming message and also suggested that Death was a force that could be reasoned with. But the two travellers seemed troubled by her tale.
“Death,” Skinny said in a miserable tone. He turned pained brown eyes to Wary. “The God of Death?”
Wary wrapped an arm around him. “Ssh, you know they change a story until it sounds good. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Peraxxa watched, intrigued, as Wary tried to comfort the slender man. It was not difficult to see who had been worse affected by the tale. What had the men seen in her myth that had provoked such an unusual reaction? “I apologise if my story has upset you, though I do not see how it could be. Perhaps…you have knowledge to impart to me?”
“You wouldn’t want to know,” said Skinny. “Trust me.” He sighed. “Has the storm abated yet?”
Wary leaned out of the tent and came back with a face covered in sand. “No. We’re stuck here for a while longer.”
“Perhaps you would like to hear another story?” Peraxxa suggested. She enjoyed see the peculiar reactions to her tales. It was as though these two men came from somewhere outside of culture, unspoiled by contemporary knowledge and references. They had not even alluded to the well-known and much-debated similarities between the God of Death and the legendary ruler of Xaan. It was like they were from another time, as well as another world.
“I don’t think we want anymore myths,” snapped Wary, whose protective gaze rested on Skinny’s quiet and thoughtful form. The slender man had brought his knees up to his chest and seemed to be in deep contemplation.
“I have Myths of great and wonderful things,” Peraxxa argued. It had been a very long time until someone had disrespected her knowledge. “Need I remind you that you chose the last story? If you are going to be so sensitive, pick a less upsetting topic. Trust, money, or cosmic balance, I have myths regarding them all.”
Wary took a deep breath as if to snap at her again, but Skinny’s quiet voice interrupted him before he began. “Cosmic Balance, then. Tell us a tale about that.”
Peraxxa smiled. “Ah. Wonderful. I do so enjoy telling the tale of the Chaos Couple.”
“The Chaos Couple?” echoed Wary.
“Yes. It is a myth of wild wanderers and a love story and explains the existence of Chaos in our Universe. Though I must warn you, it lacks the formality of my other tales…”
“Ah, a lack of formality.” Wary grinned and moved closer to Skinny. “I like that. So…the Chaos Couple. Don’t they get individual names?”
“But of course. They were not always as one. Where is the thrill in a love story that begins with true love? No, once upon a time they were known separately as the ‘Oncoming Storm’ and the ‘Rogue of Time’.
Wary nudged Skinny, who was starting to cheer up a little. “Should be interesting.”
Peraxxa brought another bottle forward and scattered its drops in random spots on the fire. The fire began to flicker in frenzied patterns, its flames licking out at the three gathered around it.
In the dancing shadows, she began to tell her favourite tale.
~
The Universe needs Chaos. That much is certain and well-known. What is less well-known is that the Chaos of the Universe was the product of wild union between two mythical beings.
One of these beings was a God. The Gods were responsible for the Order of the Universe. The dreariness of the task sent them all into an eternal slumber. All save one, the God known as the ‘Oncoming Storm’. He had always disregarded the responsibilities of his brethren and only when they were gone did he cling to the rituals that he had once abandoned, longing for the lost clarity of moral and emotional Order.
The other being of consequence to our tale was once a Time Nymph. His people took the role of the slumbering Gods and ensured Order was maintained in the Universe. The Time Nymph of our tale grew tired of the repetitive Order and struck out alone into the Galaxy, becoming known as the ‘Rogue of Time’. He grew to love the wild whimsy of tricks and Chaos, though a part of him missed the safety of the Nymphs’ regulations and planned strategies.
It was destined that the Oncoming Storm would cross paths with the Rogue of Time. Their first meeting was on a battlefield, though they fought for neither side. They were each drawn to the Chaos. Their conflict was their own, though its impact resonated throughout the Universe. The Rogue of Time still possessed the power of the Nymphs, though he hoped to misuse it to cause Chaos instead of Order. The Oncoming Storm wished to preserve some semblance of Order, out of respect to his sleeping brethren.
The Rogue of Time sought to infect the warring species with a malevolent plague to incite Chaos and disorder. The plague was one of Nymph creation, made to destroy aberrations in Time.
But the Oncoming Storm could not allow such madness. He still longed for the Order that his people could not maintain. Knowing that violence would go unnoticed in the midst of a war, the Oncoming Storm chose to reason with the Rogue of Time.
The God’s rectangular vessel was deep blue and contained energies of creation from the dawn of time. The Storm himself appeared in his darkest form, intending to strike fear into the Rogue’s heart. But the Rogue of Time had fallen too far into Chaos to respect the authority of the figure. Rather than being intimidated, he felt enchanted. As a figure of Chaos in a Universe of Order, the Rogue of Time could sense the wild hearts that beat within the God’s chest. He knew this was not one who had maintained Order, or else he would have been lost with all his kind.
“I sense great power in you,” said the Rogue. “Will you join me in disrupting the oppressive Order of the Universe?”
“I will not assist you in harming these people,” replied the Storm. “They are innocent and deserve peace.”
The Rogue disagreed. “They deserve excitement and thrill.”
“Your plague will destroy them all,” said the Storm.
“Not all,” the Rogue argued with a charming grin. “Some will survive. Isn’t it wonderful not to know who? Order would have it so that all survived without event until a particular age. Order would have life predictable.”
“And tell me,” the Storm enquired, mind as quick as lightning and voice as ominous as thunder, “what Chaos these people will accomplish in death? In death, all are predictable.”
The Rogue of Time considered this and was forced to admit its truth. Chaos would only be found in life, death being the only certainty of existence. He abandoned his attempt to release a plague on the people. He asked to follow the Oncoming Storm in his path and was welcomed onto the blue vessel of the Gods. His request was born of desire. He wished to see the Chaos beneath the Storm’s disguise of Order. Knowing that in the act of love, all were beasts, the Rogue of Time embarked on a quest to seduce the Oncoming Storm. This was not a simple task, as the God remained in his foreboding form, not changing his countenance for one-hundred years.
In their travels, the Rogue frequently attempted to cause disharmony in the Universe. The Oncoming Storm always stopped him with wit and cunning logic, convincing the trickster that his plans would only uphold Order.
A century after their first meeting, the Oncoming Storm was mortally wounded stopping one of the Rogue’s chaotic schemes. The Rogue of Time was stricken with guilt and prayed day and night for the Storm’s survival. He swore that he would cease his plans of Chaos forevermore if the God survived. Because, as it was destined to be, the Rogue of Time had fallen in love with the Oncoming Storm.
The Storm heard his prayers and used what power he had left to regenerate anew. This time, to reward the Rogue’s desperate oath, the Storm chose a dazzling form of great beauty and left behind his disapproving darkness forever.
Once more they travelled together. The charming Rogue of Time and the beautiful Oncoming Storm. But all was not as it was. No longer in his strictest form, the Oncoming Storm felt dissatisfied with the Order of the Universe. Everything was in its place and there was a place for everything. For the first time in centuries, the God tired of his people’s Order once more. He could see now, the meaning behind his own words spoken over a century ago to his friend. Death was Order. Life ought to be Chaos. He told his friend, the Rogue, of his epiphany. But in his grief over wounding his love, the Rogue of Time had sworn to uphold Order and he reminded the Storm that Chaos could bring pain.
But the Oncoming Storm was resolute in his plan to bring Chaos to the Universe. For people may have been safe from physical danger, but they were afraid to feel, afraid to love, and what is life without emotion? It is Ordered. It is Death.
So the Oncoming Storm travelled back to the creation of the Universe with the dream of disrupting Order before it could take hold. But the Rogue of Time was confused and distressed. He did not wish for the danger of Chaos any longer. In a Universe of Order, his God was safe.
“But my dear Rogue of Time,” said the Oncoming Storm, “Don’t you feel passion for me?”
The Rogue agreed that he did, but could not see how this was of consequence.
“It is of consequence because I too adore you. We could act upon our love, feel desire and longing and deep affection. But I could never allow myself that unless I knew that all beings in the Universe shared the same permission. People were not made to be cold. They are warm and full of hope. Order only hides their feelings, it does not take away the pain of them. Now tell me, is our love worth fear? Is our passion worth pain? If you tell me it is not, then I will leave the Universe in the Order that eternally silenced my holy brethren and suffocates the minds of all sentient creatures.”
The Rogue of Time thought on this. He did not argue with his beloved. He embraced the Oncoming Storm and kissed him, a gesture he had desired for over one-hundred years. Chaos bloomed in their hearts and drove them to wild passion in the unmade Universe.
The creative energies of the vessel carried the Chaos of their union out into the darkness. The Rogue and the Storm took one another for hours, their passions burning after years of unnatural abstinence, their bodies demanding pleasure after pleasure. Around them, the Universe came into being. But this time, it was not with a foundation of Order. The Universe shook with the energy of Chaos and all beings were born into Chaos. Order still existed, but only through work and necessity. People laughed, cried and loved without feeling it to be unnatural.
The story goes that the Oncoming Storm and the Rogue of Time live to this day, undying like the Chaos that they produced in the heart of existence. Some say they wander Time and Space observing the happiness that would not have existed without their passion. Some say they soothe the tears of those tortured by their passions. They are benevolent, they are love, they are Chaos.
And they are Eternal.
~
When Peraxxa opened her eyes, she saw the two travellers were watching her intently. Both men were smiling. Wary held Skinny close, almost in his lap.
“I liked that one,” Skinny said almost shyly.
“Me too,” sighed Wary. “It was beautiful.”
Peraxxa dabbed away the tears in her eyes then wrung out the rag over the fire. A single teardrop was all that could be produced, but it extinguished the fire instantly. “So now you know how our Universe came to possess love, passion and chaos. We owe it all to the Chaos Couple.”
“Do you have more stories?” asked Skinny, eagerly. “That one was really lovely. Wasn’t it, Jack?”
‘Jack’ nodded with a fond smile then leaned back and opened the tent flap. “The storm has stopped, Doctor.”
“Well that doesn’t matter now,” said the ‘Doctor’. “I’m really getting into these myths!”
‘Jack’ chuckled. “Narcissist.” He put on a false, pompous tone of voice. “These myths are about me, how droll, I must listen.”
“Oi, I am not a Narcissist! I merely find the exaggeration of our history is a fascinating topic!”
“Yeah, yeah, fascinating. As if I needed anymore wet dream fodder. Wake me up when we’re screwing in the heart of the Universe.” ‘Jack’ grinned cheekily. “Can we go back and do it for real now? Get down and dirty in your blue vessel, oh Oncoming Storm?”
Peraxxa stood to her full height and stamped her cane angrily on the floor. “DO NOT MOCK MY GODS!” It took a lot to anger her, but the Chaos Couple were beloved to her and should never be mentioned with anything but respect.
‘Jack’ and the ‘Doctor’ backed down, looking at her nervously. “Sorry,” said the ‘Doctor’. “We meant no disrespect. But…you see…” he looked over at ‘Jack’, who shrugged. “We are the Chaos Couple. Really.”
Peraxxa hissed at them. She had regaled them with glorious tales of wondrous things and they repaid her with scorn! “LEAVE!” She screeched. The travellers stumbled out of her tent. After a few moments, she heard their voices outside, only a short distance away.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. It’s like, ten metres from the fucking tent. Ten! How could we have missed that?!? We sat in there listening to those old wives’ tales for ages when we could have just walked in a straight line!”
“With the storm up we had no way of knowing how close we were,” the ‘Doctor said soothingly.
“But you always know where the TARDIS is!”
“Not always.”
“Oh come off it, you blatantly knew.”
“Maybe I wanted to hear a story.”
“If you wanted a bedtime story, you only had to ask.”
“Oh stop it, ‘Rogue of Time’. You know you liked those stories too.”
“Maybe they were kind of cool. Just some of them were a bit…depressing. Not to mention frustrating.”
“Well maybe you’ll get lucky and the next species we encounter will corrupt me mentally and use my body to seduce you.” There was a pause, then the sound of something slamming. “What? Oh Jack, don’t be like that!” The voice got quieter, as though being blocked by something or shut away. “What did I say?”
Then…a very strange noise echoed around the desert. Peraxxa went to the tent flap and pulled it aside.
Just in time to see the blue vessel of the Gods transport the mischievous Chaos Couple from her world.
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There's an idea: Who can tell if the part with the shag at the dawn at the cosmos (the "Big Bang", so to speak) isn't going to happen for them someday?
I loved all three stories but I think it's the "Death" one I like most. Probably because of the Doctor's and Jack's reactions to it. It was so sweet. You know I love protective Jack.
It was great fun watching this get come to life!
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There lived a man of passing greatness. A man of disastrous mistakes and brilliant solutions. He had killed and he had saved. He knew man’s potential for good and evil, and he explored both. He lived wildly, recklessly, travelling the galaxies and treating each day as though it were his last.
Awww. You do such a great job describing Jack and the Doctor. This was absolutely gorgeous.
With just the right amount of humor:
“Maybe I wanted to hear a story.”
“If you wanted a bedtime story, you only had to ask.”
ROFL!
Well, I've got to add this to memories. I loved it that much. :) Brilliant, my dear! I'm completely floored. A love story. *sighs happily*
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Great job! I can't wait for more of your stories.
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But this is what I loved most: Uth instead of Earth and Kardiv instead of Cardiff, it just makes the myths seem so much more plausible.
My absolute favourtie line:“Yeah, yeah, fascinating. As if I needed anymore wet dream fodder. Wake me up when we’re screwing in the heart of the Universe.” ‘Jack’ grinned cheekily. “Can we go back and do it for real now? Get down and dirty in your blue vessel, oh Oncoming Storm?”
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Lovely, I especially liked the Death story. Thanks for sharing!
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ETA: I also liked the mythologized cameos of other characters (like the Master and Ianto) and places (like Earth and Cardiff) while still keeping the bulk of the myths about the Doctor and Jack. The misspellings and reinterpretations added credibility to the myths, i.e., that they would have been intentionally altered, misheard, or misremember over time.
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It didn't seem right to use names and places without changing them. Assuming this is far in the future, it's doubtful that they would remember the right spelling of Cardiff or Earth. Of course, thinking of what to call them without it sounding stupid was another task altogether...
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This bit broke me, poor Jack. He was Immortal. Though this discovery would have pleased many, it was a devastating fact for the Immortal, as it meant he would never again know Death. It makes Jack's immortality and separation even more epic. And we broke out of the story, there were the little observations like when the Doctor gripped Jack's hand. Loved it.
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I decided not to keep the myths too close to (or sometimes anywhere near) the truth. I just let them be inspired by Jack/Doctor events and went with the flow.
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O_O That was absolutely wonderful. Them being immortalized in myths together is such a wonderful concept. Just wonderful.
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I pretty much stalk Stuck on the Slow Path, but I always love reading your other fic too. Sorry to say this is my first review, because I'm such a slacker, but I love it all - great job!
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Their mouths are forever going to get them in trouble, huh? First Peraxxa thinks they are mocking her gods - which, in a way, they are; Jack at least is quite cheerfully mocking the Oncoming Storm there *g* Then the Doctor gets himself in trouble with an insensitive remark of truly epic (pun intended) proportions. No wonder Jack's upset.
But I have faith they'll be fine in the end. :)
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