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Mar. 21st, 2011 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winter_rogueUntitled Doctor Who ficlet
Prompt: 11/The Picture of Dorian Grey, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
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Not even Timelords remain unchanged by time. They may not be touched by it, not like every other being in the universe, not really. They may stand outside of it, looking in through a window at time and the way it weathers and ravages. No, the watcher does not remain unchanged.
He has lived a dozen, dozen lives, and lifetimes. He has watched all of time and space unfold. Watching and interfering and touching. He has worn a dozen different faces, each more youthful than the next. He has taken a hundred companions with him through time and space, opening their eyes, observing their wonder secondhand like it were his own. They too have grown younger and younger.
He has done wonderful things and terrible things. He has watched the birth of completely new life forms, nurtured creation, wreaked terrible destruction. His is a name that resonates in the hearts of beings, in a universe that alternately smiles and trembles under the god-like presence of his existence.
He has made terrible mistakes, but these are truths he locks far away where no one can see them easily.
He will cheat death until the ending of the world. And every one of his decisions, all the good and the bad and the terrible, will remain unwritten on his face. There is, however, some truth in that very human expression--ever the eyes are the window to our true soul. He doesn't envy the picture they must show anyone brave-- foolish --enough to look.
Prompt: 11/The Picture of Dorian Grey, for
comment_ficNot even Timelords remain unchanged by time. They may not be touched by it, not like every other being in the universe, not really. They may stand outside of it, looking in through a window at time and the way it weathers and ravages. No, the watcher does not remain unchanged.
He has lived a dozen, dozen lives, and lifetimes. He has watched all of time and space unfold. Watching and interfering and touching. He has worn a dozen different faces, each more youthful than the next. He has taken a hundred companions with him through time and space, opening their eyes, observing their wonder secondhand like it were his own. They too have grown younger and younger.
He has done wonderful things and terrible things. He has watched the birth of completely new life forms, nurtured creation, wreaked terrible destruction. His is a name that resonates in the hearts of beings, in a universe that alternately smiles and trembles under the god-like presence of his existence.
He has made terrible mistakes, but these are truths he locks far away where no one can see them easily.
He will cheat death until the ending of the world. And every one of his decisions, all the good and the bad and the terrible, will remain unwritten on his face. There is, however, some truth in that very human expression--ever the eyes are the window to our true soul. He doesn't envy the picture they must show anyone brave-- foolish --enough to look.