woventhroughouthistory wants to see the stars.
[╰☆╮] She looks up from her book with a smile on her face. Company’s always absolutely lovely. But oh, what she see wipes any sign of happiness right off her features.
"— I was… I was having a really lovely day. I… I got some flowers and I rescued a puppy. And… And I met this really sweet girl at the hospital and she had a really bad illness but she was still really happy and nice so I gave her a flower— And I almost got hit by a car but I didn’t and that’s really good because getting hit by cars hurts, did you know that? And then… And then you show up and I— You’re not allowed to be here. Because… You…"
There’s a pause. And she takes a breath, to steady herself. She’s babbling on about things she knows he doesn’t care about. But she doesn’t care. No. She kind of wants to smack him. But what’s coming next is just as good as.
"— You killed them all."
"Let’s go down to the apple tree;
Fighting against gravity.
[╰☆╮] "—Oh, wow…" She just took a whole bottle of pills. And had a ginger biscuit. Not her best decision.
[╰☆╮] Grace has discovered swingsets! Which may not be all good; considering they’re so fun she honestly has no intention of hopping off.
Unless perhaps a small child wants to take it off her; in which case the TARDIS would be happy to step aside. Anything for children~
|✚|.. Ah. What she’s picking up on is most likely the human soul his vessel
I’m an angel;
I belong to the legions of Heaven.
[╰☆╮] That…’s probably it? “Oh. Well, I’ve never met an angel before—” Not entirely sure if she believes him yet. Well, she’s a time machine, just about anything’s possible, right?
No. Last names are unnecessary for my kind.
|✚|.. Angels. So. …They both have “programming” of their own
ignoring the face that Castiel’s might need a little updating)?|
[╰☆╮] Odd. He smells human enough. “Your kind?” She doesn’t have the ability to sense things; though it would certainly come in handy.
thedoctortheoncomingstorm wants to see the stars.
[╰☆╮] It’s cold out. But not cold enough so that it bothers her. She enjoys the cold. Much prefers it to heat. Rainy days beat those where turning the air conditioner off means turning the room into a furnace. At the moment, however, she’s curled up in the park. The rain’s stopped, and the grass has dried. The sun’s even threatening to make an appearance.
Today, she’s reading one of Charles Dickens’ earlier books. Honestly, she’s been getting through books at such a rapid pace that she’ll be finished with all the decent ones within a year or two.
There’s a moment of hesitation when she realises someones standing close to her. So close that they may be standing over her, but they may be minding their own business. She can’t tell until she looks up. But the smell—It’s—Impossible. Ridiculous. She must be delusional. Or… Something. No, couldn’t be.