[ impossibilities ] clara & donna
She missed being home. Oh, she wouldn't give up her travels with the Doctor, not anymore, for the very life of her, but sometimes, Donna Noble missed being home. It was her gramps, and even her mum, and her for wishes for domesticy now thrown to the wind in glittering shooting starlight that oftentimes drew her back a little to where she came from -- Earth, London, modern days, normalcy. Today was one of those times. There had been a particularly nasty run - in involving mothers losing children and Donna had felt her heart churn and spew about grueling -- not only because of the loss of her own dear, sweet little ones, but also in light of her most recent spat with Sylvia, who'd finally voiced her fears of her daughter one day turning up dead on the doorstep like her husband had. Donna missed Geoff, too. In fact, the whole reminiscing had her miss him the most of all, and she'd gone to pick up a little bouquet, bright and scented, for a little detour before she went back to Chiswick High Road. Couldn't be late if you were unannounced. S'okay, she'd told the Doctor, a squeeze to the hand and a push off to the crowd. Gonna be okay on my own. Get yourself busy. See you at dinner. Mushrooms again. Bring me a candybar. And he'd gone, on to his merry business, and she off to her much less merry one, a heavy visit, but not dreaded. She entered the graveyard languidly, saw there was not much to be done about and around the stone, still clean and little over a whole year old, and she just brushed it with her hand and then had the same sleeve go right past her eyes, her lost father welling up some deeply buried tears after all, in the end. " ... Love you, dad. " She sat, just for a moment, and then stretched, composed again, only to catch an unfamiliar head of brown hair. She'd come here quite often, ever since Geoff Noble passed, in the year of her wait for the Doctor, and never had she seen the girl, a young and pretty face -- must have been hard, losing someone at that age. Hesitating, she just stood, half of heart to offer her condolences but at the same time not entirely sure just how necessary that would be. So she just stood, hand upon her father's stone, softly thumbing it like it were still his sick head upon his pillow, and then waited 'till she caught eye with the other visitor, to give her a smile and a little nod. She hoped she hadn't lost a parent, too.
