34. Nine/Rose meeting at a masquerade ball au
She was dressed as a wolf.
Her golden hair was curled, hanging loose down her back and framing her face, a black wolf pelt draped around her shoulders over a thin golden dress that looked more like water than silk. Her eyes glittered at him across the room, and he smirked and raised his glass at her. She grinned, and vanished into the crowd; he knocked the drink back and headed after her. Underdressed as he was, he stood out, but the people here had grown used to his eccentricities.
He found her on the balcony overlooking the winter garden, her wolf pelt no doubt keeping her warm in the chilly autumn air. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he commented, leaning against the railing.
“I’m sure you say that to all strangers,” she smirked, and he laughed despite himself.
“Regardless,” he said, “we don’t often get visitors here.”
The woman eyed him, a small smile on her face. “I figured. You should have heard the questions the innkeeper asked. He seemed offended when I asked why there was an inn when there were no travelers, however.”
“I said we don’t get them often,” he said. “Where are you heading to, if I may ask?”
“Everywhere,” she replied, a far-away look in her eyes. “Places that people have forgotten, or have lived there too long. Places that haven’t yet been discovered, or kept secret. Far off worlds… or local villages,” she said, teasingly.
He snorted. “Not much here, unfortunately. Your goal is admirable. I envy you.”
“Why haven’t you left then, if it’s something you want?”
He sighed, looking out over the garden. “I used to. Once. And then something happened, and I knew the world was better off with me forgotten.”
“Gallifrey,” she said, and he nodded even as the name caused him to wince.
“There was no one left,” he said, and the woman laid a hand on his arms.
“No one, but not nothing,” she said. “It may one day return.”
“It won’t ever be the same,” he replied.
“What is?” she replied, then turned. There was a murmur from inside, and she turned her head. “I have probably overstayed my welcome.”
He smiled. “False invitation or downright crashing?”
There was humor in her voice. “Why use a door when a window is perfectly accessible?”
He caught her hand before she could flee. “Good luck,” he said. “Whoever you are.”
“You can call me Rose,” she said, and squeezed his hand before vanishing.
Her words resonated with him, though. Everyone gone- but Gallifrey survived. Maybe one day he would return, once his demons had been caged and he served his penance by helping the people here.
For now, though, he would dream of his golden Rose, and hope that wherever she was, she would find what she was looking for.
