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Posts tagged death

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“This is emergency program one. Rose, now listen. This is important. If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing: we must be in danger, and I mean fatal. I’m dead or about to die any second with no chance of escape. And that’s okay; hope it’s a good death. But I promised to look after you, and that’s what I’m doing. The TARDIS is taking you home, and I bet you’re fussing and moaning now. Typical. But hold on and just listen a bit more. The TARDIS can never return for me. Emergency program one means I’m facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do: let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it; no one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner, and over the years, the world will move on and the box will be buried. And if you want to remember me, then you can do one thing. That’s all, one thing. Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life.

(Source: marion-cotillards, via thetardisismyhome)

Filed under 9th Christopher Eccleston Doctor Doctor Who Nine Ninth Doctor Rose Rose Tyler TARDIS The Doctor death doctorwho dramatic parting program sad speech thedoctor old face adorable lovely handsome

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At the southeastern edge of Deadland there  was  a  blue  mountain.  It stood to slightly over three thousand meters in height. When approached from the  northwest,  it  gave the appearance of being a frozen wave in a sea too vast to imagine. Purple clouds rent themselves  upon  its  peak.  No  living thing  was  to be found on its slopes. It had no name, save that which Jarry Dark gave it.
    He anchored the flier.
    He carried her body to the highest point  to  which  a  body  might  be carried.
    He  placed  her  there,  dressed  in  her finest garments, a wide scarf concealing the angle of her neck, a dark veil covering her emptied features.
    He was about to try a prayer when the hail began to fall.  Like  thrown rocks, the chunks of blue ice came down upon him, upon her.
    “God damn you!” he cried and he raced back to the flier.
    He climbed into the air, circled.
    Her  garments  were  flapping  in the wind. The hail was a blue, beaded curtain that separated them from all but these final  caresses:  fire  aflow from ice to ice, from clay aflow immortally through guns.
    He  squeezed  the trigger and a doorway into the sun opened in the side of the mountain that had been nameless.  She  vanished  within  it,  and  he widened the doorway until he had lowered the mountain.
    Then  he  climbed  upward into the cloud, attacking the storm until his guns were empty.
    He circled then above the molten mesa, there at the  southeastern edge of Deadland.
    He circled above the first pyre this world had seen.
    Then he departed, to sleep for a season in silence the sleep of ice and stone, to inherit the Alyonal. There is no dreaming in that sleep.

Filed under Alyonal Jarry Jarry Dark ROGER ZELAZNY Sanza Y7 catform coldworld death dramatic flier funeral ice love mountains romance sad story the keys to December Deadland sleep of ice and stone storm