asgardmeridiem | All the Whos down in Whoville...

Who: All the Whoniverse folks, and their plus ones
What: Eight is a bit Christmas crazy, and is inflicting it on his "family".
When: Day 378
Where: Thor 104 (Who House 2)
Rating: PG

A week before, everyone in the Doctors' makeshift "family" is sent a simple message:

Come to Thor 104 in one week's time for a Christmas get-together.
Bring a friend if you like.
No, this is not optional. Don't make me come get you.

When they arrive, they're greeted by a festively decorated house, twinkling lights and all, still covered in snow from the day before. The door is, as usual, unlocked so that everyone can filter in as they please. Once inside, the house is full of the sights, sounds, and scents of a huge family holiday gathering. A fire in the fireplace makes the house warm and cozy, and a decorated tree holds pride of place.

Grab a glass of cider or mulled wine, wander the house, find a conversation to jump into, or get some fresh air in the back garden.

But beware, Eight has been quite liberal with his use of mistletoe. Chances are you'll find yourself under some at some point in the night.

(ooc: Prose or action bracket thingies, whichever is fine.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was referring to the scrapbook I gave 'Eight', but if you like, I'm terribly good at planning," he says, smiling. Don't trust him.

"Wait, who's planning my wedding for me? And someone else, apparently?"

Eight approaches the gathering group, only having heard half the conversation. His expression brightens as he sees Six and Ril. "So! Does there need to be another announcement?"

"Well, you said planning book, so I assumed..." He's not sure if he actually wants this to happen; it's all happening so fast, he hasn't had time to really think about it... and really he'd want to talk to Ril about it further before any decisions would be made. But... well, he can't very well say he doesn't want this, because that's almost certainly not true.

Eight gets a somewhat sheepish grin. "Ah, yes... I'm afraid it wasn't... quite as planned as your proposal was, but... there we are then, I suppose." It occurs to him that he's still kneeling on the floor. Well... at least it's appropriate for the situation. He levers himself to his feet--though he doesn't let go of Ril's hand. "I... I think... mmm. Well... Ril? What do you think?" It would be better if they could talk privately about this... but he wants her input, before he says anything.

Ril kisses his knuckles gently and gives his hand a squeeze as she thinks it over. Admittedly, it makes her a little dizzy, but she knows herself, knows him. She takes a long moment to study his face.

"I think," she murmurs, not at all releasing him as she finds her feet again. "I think that you have given me impossibly rare things since I first met you, and that I have never been so content in my life." Her fingers settle against his chest, and she smiles.

"We fit," Ril says, a light shiver working its way up her back. "And I can't imagine my life without you. Not now. I have never been so--" Taken? Completely in love? None of them are right. "Ah. You have my heart, you always have. Any ceremony, any celebration, is just a formality, isn't it?"

It's good to see her get back to her feet after all that, and he's trying not to look too amused at what she's saying. He hadn't quite thought of it like that... "I suppose you could say that about our... relationship, but would you like one anyway? I admit I may be a bit... well. That is, most people seem to enjoy weddings, or at least I thought they did."

He doesn't mind either way, really; he just wants to do what she wants. "But if you think it's too... much, I assure you that I feel quite the same as you, ceremony or no."

"I. Oh." She stares up at him for a long moment, completely forgetting they have any company. Ril is suddenly grateful for the little bit of height her heels gave her because it means standing on tiptoe to pull him into a kiss (very nearly by that necktie of his) is a great deal less of a challenge. But she's thinking, too. Thinking about ceremonies, about the ancient customs of her own folk--not the modern conveniences--about the backless traditional red dress, the copper tipped soft scales and elaborate, twisting painted spinal designs. Her fingers touch his cheeks, his hair, and she's thinking about his hands on her back, sweeping copper across her skin, and she wants it in a sudden sharp and clear moment.

She wants the twist of red cord around her ankle, the beads and bells, she wants him in red and gold and bits of bright blue. She wants to dance for him against a bonfire, to light lanterns and let them rise into the night. She wants this, all of this, in a moment that is as much joy as it is sadness.

"We should share the joy," she says against his lips, "with the people we love. And I will teach you how my people do that, if you'd like."

"Excellent! Well, then I should probably say congratulations to the both of you." He grins at the both of them, then turns his head away at the kissing, giving them at least some semblance of a private moment. For Six, at least. Ril never seems particularly bothered with privacy.

"Are we up to two weddings now?"

Don't think Eleven hasn't noticed all the commotion, and he comes practically hopping over. Weddings mean dancing, and the more the better, honestly. They can use all happiness they can get.

Ril's kisses are welcome as always, and for once (or twice) he doesn't care how public they might be. He does manage to pull away at Eleven's question with a bit of a sheepish grin, but he doesn't pull away much. Just enough so he can turn and look at his older self.

"Ah... yes, I suppose we must be. Probably, anyway." He's really not sure of everything that just happened here, but he's pretty sure they both agreed on some kind of wedding ceremony. Details. "Unless you know of any others?"

Her eyebrows arch a little and she's really not sure about anything, but she's fairly certain they'd probably just-- With a ceremony? And. She opens her mouth to say something and just sort of hangs there for a moment.

Well.

"...probably," she finally says, echoing Six. "We'll have to, ah--" Think. Marriage. Marry. Marrying. Titles, such as husband and wife, and that's surprisingly. What? Formal. Ril brushes her lips against Six's jaw almost absently and she can't figure out if she wants to burst out laughing or just stare at him or kiss him. Or try and do all those things at once.

A wedding, then, for a Pilot and a Time Lord.

"Do things." Lots of things, thinking things. Coherency, please. She waves a hand.

Edited 2014-01-17 01:08 (UTC)

All the Whos down in Whoville...

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