Title: ‘Tis the Season: Eggs for recharging?
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During the seasonal Christmas period.
Summary: It really needs eggs.
Author’s Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is the same Dalek and boy from ’Tis the Season: What is needed.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
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The boy sits before the fire, his eyes thoughtful as he sucks on a hard-boiled sweet. “’orry mm didint,” he takes the lolly from his mouth and coughs softly. “Sorry mum didn’t make you some eggs,” he says and drops the lolly in the fire. “Ugh,” he pulls a face, “that was liquorice.”
“Eggs ... eggs ...”
“You know,” the boy looks up from the paper bag, “you seem to be getting fainter. Maybe we could recharge you.”
There was a perk of blue, briefly.
“Maybe mum could make you some eggs. Would you like that?” He pops a lolly, in his mouth, sucking while he waits.
“Eggs ...”
“oil oo ‘et mm.” He nods, reaching out to straighten the sprig he’d put there. “ee oight oiack.”
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During the seasonal Christmas period.
Summary: It really needs eggs.
Author’s Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is the same Dalek and boy from ’Tis the Season: What is needed.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
The boy sits before the fire, his eyes thoughtful as he sucks on a hard-boiled sweet. “’orry mm didint,” he takes the lolly from his mouth and coughs softly. “Sorry mum didn’t make you some eggs,” he says and drops the lolly in the fire. “Ugh,” he pulls a face, “that was liquorice.”
“Eggs ... eggs ...”
“You know,” the boy looks up from the paper bag, “you seem to be getting fainter. Maybe we could recharge you.”
There was a perk of blue, briefly.
“Maybe mum could make you some eggs. Would you like that?” He pops a lolly, in his mouth, sucking while he waits.
“Eggs ...”
“oil oo ‘et mm.” He nods, reaching out to straighten the sprig he’d put there. “ee oight oiack.”
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