A/N: I don't write for this fandom much, but I had to get something out after seeing the series 7 trailer last night. (Seriously, is anyone not dying of excitement? This fall, everyone! It's going to be amazing.) This is just a quick little one-off, but I'd still love reviews if you feel like leaving one!
I'm a far cry from being either Steven Moffat or the BBC, both of whom can claim Doctor Who and everything herein.
Animals are afraid of fire. Everyone knows that. Even we, creatures who by our very nature must live unseeing and unseen, apart from all other living things, know this. Fire is a threat. It is full of heat and rage, ready to devour, ready to burn. That which does not snuff out fire makes it stronger, fuels a greater hunger for vengeance. Beasts, humans, living things are right to fear it. It is not a thing that mortals can ever fully master.
The Weeping Angels were birthed in fire, stone and soul-stuff set in a mold, crafted by unseen hands, a master artisan layering consciousness upon consciousness until we were almost one being. Desire became our name, and in the rough grain of our being lay the power to feed the abyss within us.
Swifter than thought or the movement of a human eye, we reorder the universe: one infinitesimal soul at a time. We kill as painlessly as we live. As easily as what other creatures call breathing, we blink and we are fed. The rush of energy—cool and glorious, a thousand coruscating emotions and events from the uninhabited years—settles in us, creating new whorls in the smoothness of our starvation.
Time does not destroy us. We can wait out the universe. The elements may tear at us, wear down our physical forms, but still we are not diminished.
For us, fire is not something to be feared.
Fire created us, and then it fled from us.
Fire means someone is coming.
Fire means life.