v i d e o; ○○3

[fairytaled]

I DID IT!

[ Back up, Amy Pond screaming into the screen! It's shaking and she's trembling and her hair is very wild and her eyes are bursting with excitement—a quick breather would do her some good, but it continues with a documentary style movement. There's the echoing of her steps and some shuffling. Papers, pencils, clacking and snapping on the ground.

She clears her throat, patting her chest. And swallows. ]

I did it, I made this, I—

[ An apple. She shows the screen... an apple. Carved with a smile. God, it's tiny. Sort of deformed; mutated. A brief moment later and she knocks it on the table. It sounds awfully hard. Like a rock? ]

Okay, close enough to the real thing, but I did it! I—




Doctor, are you listening? [ Did she filter this right? ]

Comments

[verybigpheasants]

[ It's clinched, she's adorable. And loud. But it's not like he doesn't know his large share of people with volume and... bowing issues. He'd stop doing serious business flirting if he knew, honest. ]

And how long have you been gracing the holy city with your presence, would you say?

[fairytaled]

A good... [ That's right, a number. Maybe she should be alarmed that she has lost track. ] Few months.

Gracing it with my presence, I don't know.

[verybigpheasants]

Suppose it gets easy to lose count after a while. Always did hate having to make scratches on large rocks to get by.

[fairytaled]

[ NOT EVEN GOING TO SNORT, BUT A FULL-OUT LAUGH JUST FOR YOU. ]

Large rocks? Not a fan of calendars?

[verybigpheasants]

[ Aww yeah, success everywhere. ]

So much work to commit to them, don't you think? And if you land yourself in a dungeon, nobody else is willing to let you know the day.

[fairytaled]

[ Don't get too excited, seriously. ]

Can't say I land in dungeons very often. [ Err. ] Please don't say that you do.

[verybigpheasants]

[ whoop. ]

Well, not by choice. More by... hostile invasion. Friendly slave traders. One very angry King. All in the past now.

[fairytaled]

You can't just go and say 'friendly slave traders' in one statement.

[ A bite at her lip. Sounds awfully wrong. ]

Then what's in the present for Gwaine?

[verybigpheasants]

[ Making light is a long-standing habit. ]

At present? Sir Gwaine, knight of Camelot. There's still every chance of being thrown into a dungeon, of course, but it's usually because of my respectable alliances.

[fairytaled]

I'd be lying if there wasn't something a little exciting about that.

[ Work that dungeon, boy! ]

[verybigpheasants]

[ A short laugh. ] I'd be lying if I said I disagreed.

[fairytaled]

Stay alive, Sir Gwaine. Maybe I'll send you a proper apple your way sometime.

[verybigpheasants]

You're a woman after my own heart, Lady Amy.

[fairytaled]

Don't get too ahead of yourself. Just an apple.

[ And disconnected. ]