notes: She set a brush to the heavens and painted him out of moons and stars.
She set a brush to the heavens and painted him out of moons and stars.
Her pale stained face glimmered in the moonlight and her ginger freckled lips curved into a smile.
Each flick of her wrist was another curve, another line, another shade of impossible blue.
She set a chisel to a slab of eternity and she carved herself out a man.
Well he was never really just a man was he? His very being existed on the edge of reality and dreams, with spacetime eyes and a whirlpool soul.
He'd seen blood and death and the decimation of entire races. He'd seen great periods of war and soldiers that didn't stop at a child's crying.
Sometimes he was the child, sometimes he was the soldier.
He could reverse it all as if it were as simple as the turn of clockwork. A snap of his space dust fingers and he'd have the stars aligning just as they were, even better.
"I wished you into existence", she used to joke.
"Nothing fit quite right in my life. Then one night, you were there. It was like everything bad that had ever happened, every dull moment, was leading up to the night I met you. Then nothing was ever the same again." Amy continued.
The Doctor would swallow, his throat dry. He would wonder if she had any more to say. Whether nothing being the same turned out to be a good thing or a bad one.
She continued, "Even when I waited all those years, I had something to look forward to, you know? I knew you were coming back, I just didn't know when. So whenever I was sad or teased or misunderstood I just thought about you. In the end, all the waiting was worth it."
A smile would spread across his entire body, filling him up from his face to the tips of his brand new fingers and the locks of his brand new hair, and then back inside to sear into the lining of his timeless soul.
"I wished you into existence", he'd correct her.
They fell into each other with ease.
No one else fit the other quite as well. Her forehead was just the perfect expanse of of moonlit skin for a kiss. A kiss from her Doctor.
The space between her fingers felt perfectly fitted to his. Or maybe it was the other way around. Fate was a mysterious tapestry.
The only thing they could agree upon was that it was fate. In all his centuries of existence nothing else felt as true as Amy. Her roots were planted in his life from early on, deeply driven into his soul and spiraling around his ribs, his hearts, his tongue.
She placed two hands on his chest for the first time, finding his hearts as if there was no possibility that anything else could ever be there.
"Mine", she whispered.
"Yours", and his pulse echoed the same sentiment.