There's a trick with a knife I'm learning to do.

[una-harlequin.livejournal.com]

It was yet another sunny morning. On the lake's grassy bank near Frontierland, Una Persson lay stretched out on her stomach on a beach towel, wearing a blue maillot and reading a pristine first edition of Du côté de chez Swann that she'd borrowed from the Doctor. A blue silk caftan lay neatly folded nearby. As she read, she ate an apple, cutting slices off with her clasp knife, and reflected that unnerving though the park's absence of insect life was, it was pleasant to not have to worry about ants for once.

She'd always wanted to read À la recherche du temps perdu, but she'd never had the time. Now, having nothing but Time of a sort and the TARDIS library at her disposal, she reckoned she should take the opportunity. But between the oddly soothing quality of Proust's prose and the soporific warmth of the day, Una soon found her eyelids growing heavy. She took off her sunglasses and put her head down, thinking to rest for just a moment. Soon she was dozing like a cat in the sun, the breeze occasionally ruffling her hair and the pages of the open book, a half-eaten apple and the open clasp knife near her elbow.

((Some small number of days after Una's latest confab with Starbuck. Closed to Una and the Master; of course, as long as they're outside, passersby who might conceivably be in the area could easily catch sight of them, but it's probably best not to interfere.  ^_^))

((ETA: *facepalm* Do I really have to say anything, warning-wise? We should know better than to leave them around sharp objects...))

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[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

The scent didn't fully register as something new until after he had kissed her. He tilted his head, nose brushing against her neck as he inhaled. "There is a race known as the Eternals in our universe, named so because they exist outside the Realm of Time, in the Realm of Eternity. The group right beneath them are known as the Guardians. The Black Guardian is in charge of choas, the White is in charge of order. Or so they claim." He pulled back suddenly, gazing at her quizzically, with rapt attention. There was something about the expression that seemed to demand a reason for tempting him thus. His hand slipped over hers without his noticing.

The unfortunate part of having a brain that could go through so many ideas at once was that, once you got going, it was hard to remember that other people might find that confusing, trying to follow simultaneous trains of thought. Particularly when one train was all body language.

"The Toymaker's purpose is harder to understand. I was told by someone long ago that he was meant to be the Guardian of Dreams," three guesses who told him that, "but his way of passing the time is making people play his games. If you lose, he gets to keep you." He licked his lips and continued on, frantically. "Normally the whole lot of them lack imagination, but if he had spent enough time on Earth, then maybe.... And they can do all of this, create matter out of thin air, read minds and memory down to the finest detail." Rassilon, his head was thundering now.