A/N: Welcome to the shortest chapter of the fanfiction, only 2319 words, full of various literary devices like A Ridiculous Variety of Linguistic Weirdness and a vague sense of plot relevance.
Ushas thought for once, maybe, she had escaped. Which was a silly prospect in all honesty, but one can never truly expect a photo-realistic illustration of leaves to be tossed onto your object of reading from behind.
"Pretty good, isn't it?" Theta gracefully (somehow) flings himself onto the grass beside her, narrowly missing the tree trunk, robes at their normal level of dishevelled. A scheduled irritated roll of the head reveals the presence of Koschei, Drax, and Mortimus.
"Mort's a genius." Drax declares, smacking him a little hard on the back. Ushas has given up on any further study of evolution in the Alpha Centauri system, carefully handing Mort back his sketchbook. The stark realism of the leaves is throwing her off, some part of her expecting them to fall out of the paper and onto the ground.
"How does this concern me, exactly?" Koschei grins instead of providing an answer. In fact, nobody provides an answer, until the familiar barely-there consonance:
"I thought it was obvious?" Millennia pops out from behind the tree, startling Ushas for completely irrational reasons as she places herself beside her. The distance between them is slightly uncomfortable, one of the quirks of House Redlooms. That and the uncanny resemblance to a doll.
"It's really not obvious—"
"'Tis your hap-centennial birthday, Ushas!" She knew Rallon was somewhere within twenty metres, but that knowledge did not seem to decimate the unexpectedness of his jumping in front of her from in the tree. Nor did it make Koschei look any less smugly amused.
"Is this everybody?" She demands, looking in all directions for Jelpax or Magnus or Rassilon himself.
"Aye." Drax says, Millennia delicately holding her by the arm and standing up.
"You're coming with us."
"Theta, if this is another one of your and Koschei's ideas I swear—"
"Trust me." Koschei says. Everyone stands up and slightly uncomfortably surrounds her. "The dangerous part was all Drax." Drax shoots her a not very comforting wink.
"Am I allowed to ask what on Gallifrey is going on?"
Millennia still has her arm, but Ushas never had the heart to tell her no.
"You're coming to Hamlet with us for the day," she announces with a grin.
"Why me?"
Theta snorts, beginning the half hour walk to the nearest settlement. "You're only the founder of the Deca."
"I am not!"
"Naturally, you must be."
"It's also your fiftieth, Ushas. That's always something special."
"Mort's right." Theta nudges her with an elbow, which is not helping her proximity to Millennia. "Very special, O Founder."
"Ah, quit it." She can't help but smile.
Ushas has brightened up significantly by the time Theta overdramaticllay pulls open the doors of a cheerily painted bakery, much to everyone's relief. Ushas perfectly fit the mild of secluded know it all, but according to Millennia, wasn't something a little friendliness couldn't fix. Since they began their walk, she only stopped someone's talking to correct something once.
"Hester's." Koschei says, stepping into the nearly-deserted dining room. "They've got the best cake in Kasterborous."
"I beg to differ."
Drax snorts. "You've been taking foods for a year and a half, Mort. Your cake's not that good." Mort silently punches Drax in the arm.
Ushas feels herself genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while, even with Millennia constantly making some kind of physical contact with her. It's different than what she does with Rallon and it's... good. She's so comfortable, in fact, she doesn't recognise the odd look the woman behind the counter is giving them. She used to pride herself on attentiveness to such things.
"What flavour suits you fancy?" Rallon asks from the other side of Millennia, for once having him look down on her without being intimidating.
All sorts of baked goods sit in the display counter, from a dark brown square to an elaborate, colourful thing that could crumble to dust upon contact. Ushas opens her mouth to reply once, twice, gives up and shrugs her shoulders.
"Theta probably has a better idea than I do..."
"Perfect." Theta spins around, planting two hands on the counter. "One two-layered chocolate birthday cake with red icing, please."
"No don't get the red, get the blue." Koschei says from right beside him.
"Right, sorry. Blue icing, please."
The woman with dyed black and green hair gives the pair of them a nearly disgusted look, hands drawn away from the counter they touch.
"Why not red?" She gives Theta an obvious once-over, "since you all seem so fond."
Theta looks down at his own robes, pretending to miss the malice. "Yeah. Academy robes are a bit vibrant, but..." She waits for him to continue, unmoving. "If you don't have blue that's fine—"
"Take a hike."
"Excuse me?"
The woman slides back from her position, walking through the door to the kitchen without another word.
"Did I say something?"
The uncomfortable itch returns, the urge to hide under a table and make everyone go away. She shouldn't have left that tree everything is a bad idea why did they leave the Academy with the robes still on psychology sociology science science help
"It's the bloody robes." Koschei mumbles, leaning sideways against the counter.
"We're too far into town to have them on."
Of course not this was stupid what does cake even matter it's not important or worth walking all the way out here and it's all her fault all of it and
"Should we possibly go to another location?" Mort suggests, not getting rid of the stomach-falling-through-the-floor sensation. It's all her fault—
A very tall, spidery man comes through the door, needing to duck to fit under the door frame. "I am so sorry."
"'Ere's tha man." Drax says, folding his arms.
"I've just hired her, she's very opinionated—"
"Obviously," Ushas mumbles.
"But I had no idea she'd try something like that."
Theta smiles in return, never failing to have the problem fixed. "It's no trouble," he looks down at his robes forlornly. "We are a bit dressed up."
The man smiles, pressing keys on a wall panel and starting some kind of machine in the background. "I've had Academy kids here for decades. Believe me, we can all tell without the robes on." The man has to flick a curly black strand of hair that's come loose from its tie back. Mortimus pulls out a chair and perches on the back, watching the couple across the room from him. "So whose birthday is it, then?"
At once, all six of them look to Ushas, that nervous heat in the face rising before she can rationalise it's only us and the nice cake guy. Being refused a cake is still sitting front and centre. "Fifty," she squeaks, internally screaming damnation at the quiet voice and high pitch. She sounds like an insecure Cerulean in public.
"Happy birthday." The man says, Millennia for no apparent reason giving her some kind of side hug squeeze thing Ushas is not accustomed to. A cake is produced from some panel in the wall, all blue swirls and angled layers. The grin on her face only prompts more discomfort, robes getting too heavy and tight but there is a cake and it is good.
Ushas could simply tell by the look on their faces Koschei and Theta were primed and ready to physically restrain her by any means possible. Drax tinkering with pyrotechnics, Rallon flinging archaic synonyms for "permit" and "liability" into the air, Mortimus talking at length with Millennia about his dream of an art gallery full of historical pieces from the time zones themselves. Bodily restraint or the greater good was a logical idea, but Ushas has transcended the need somehow for this hour. Maybe it's just them all being there, not a care in the world (except, perhaps, the long-term maintenance in Mort's prosthetic leg).
The last sun is dragging its fingers on the horizon, the stubborn child who doesn't want to go to bed yet and can't be bothered by the grown-ups of the world. For the most paranormal moment of her life, Ushas can see why Mort loves painting this kind of thing.
"Good to go in fifteen, then." Drax assures his group, earning nothing but a friendly nod from Millennia and an annoyingly specific calculation of exactly how much time it'll take for the sun to set from Theta. Nobody pays attention to him.
Drax tosses back the left side of Mort's robe and rolls up the pant leg, unsheathing the pen that lies beneath. "Clockwork." Mort instructs him without so much as a glance, the pen immediately working its way to the tenth blank layer of leg to draw on. "I'm going for steampunk aesthetic."
"It'll be a shame when he regenerates." Theta sits closer to Ushas, crossing one leg over the other. "Not that having two functional legs is inherently shameful, but they're boring as hell."
"I'm sure you could draw on your leg from time to time."
Theta chuckles. "I think Koschei was the last one to see any artwork of mine, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Oh come on, you're not that bad," Koschei says from The General Vicinity of Mortimus. "You drew a great whale."
Theta rolls his eyes. "It was supposed to be an abstract representation of the six quarks being formed by strings."
"Why—" Ushas raises one hand halfway, palm up, waiting for a drop of rain to deliver sense. "Why would anyone draw that?"
A tiny voice clears its throat behind them. Ushas and Theta simultaneously turn to its source, a tiny child intimidated into taking a step back. Theta smiles in a kind way. "Hello there."
The short white hair and patchy indigo dress unfurl their tense hands. "Hello."
"What's your name, then?" Theta tilts his head and waves his arm to have them approach.
They take a hesitant, barefoot step toward him. "Ohila."
"My name's Theta. Do you like fireworks, Ohila?"
The child takes another few steps, proving their grown-up heart in a world of confusion. "What are fireworks?" They step twice more, deciding to settle cross-legged next to Theta. They barely go up to his collarbone.
Theta leans back on his hands, shaking his hair to have it fall casually around his head. "Bright, colourful explosions in the sky. Just for looking at, not for wrecking things."
"Is it loud?" The curved upper lip always comes to rest in an inquisitive bow, big dark eyes turning her face into a constant question being asked.
"My friend Ushas here always likes to plug her ears."
"I do not."
Theta widens his eyes in comedic surprise, leaning in to tell Ohila a secret. "She actually does, but pretends to be really tough all the time. I think I embarrassed her." Ohila giggles, and Theta is triumphant.
"Where'd you get a kid from?" Drax asks loudly from his setup of explosives.
"I dunno. They showed up and want to see the fireworks."
Drax shrugs. "Cool."
Theta rolls his eyes. "That's Drax. His Gallifreyan isn't very good, but don't tell him I said that."
Everyone has now stopped talking to observe this 'kid', making Ohila begin curling in on herself.
Millennia begins waving incessantly. "Hello!"
Ohila waves back.
Koschei excessively raises his eyebrows. Theta sticks his tongue out as quick as a lizard.
Ohila giggles.
"So." Theta turns his head to the child. "How old are you?"
"Seven and a half years old."
"Your last days before school, then." They nod. "Do you know where you're going?"
"My House-mum wanted me to go to the Academy over there," they point behind them, "but I think I'm only gonna get Dromeian."
"Depends what you like doing the best, I think. It's really hard to get into botany at the Academy down the road."
"I like cooking."
"Cooking!"
Ohila nods giddily. "I help my House-mum with making food for everybody and she says I'm really good."
"I bet you are!" He leans in, sharing another pretend secret. "I'm no good at cooking. Except eggs. Eggs are okay."
"What kind of eggs?"
Theta's eyes go wide. "There's more than one kind of egg? Ushas did you know about this!?"
"Are you still in your first year of science class?"
Ohila giggles, and Koschei takes this opportunity to join in the conversation. "He's definitely only in his first year of science class!"
"Shut up, you!"
Ohila finds this all very funny.
"We got three minutes." Drax calls.
"Three minutes!" Theta repeats.
"Ohila!" somebody they don't know calls.
Ohila nervously whips around in her seat, giggles falling flat. She takes two sorry breaths.
"It's getting dark, Ohila. You need to come home."
"But mum, I want to see the fireworks!"
Theta tries for a charming smile. "It's perfectly alright, ma'am. We're happy to have Ohila watching with us."
Ohila's face changes drastically from disappointment to hope, undergone with barely any effort. Was he in such an unstable configuration as a child? Is he still?
"Are you kids from the Academy?"
"Yes, ma'am. We're celebrating my friend's birthday."
What they all assume to be Ohila's House-mum pauses. Theta hopes she isn't one of the borderline extremist anti-Prydons.
"Alright, you can stay." From hope to unbridled glee. "But you come straight home when it's over, okay?"
"I will!"
"We can walk with her if you want," Ushas offers, in the rare maternal voice she never lets out.
The House-mother smiles. "Thanks, but everyone knows Ohila around here. It'll be safer."
She turns and walks away. "One minute. I'm lighting them." Ohila can't help but bounce her arms for all the excitement of colourful explosions in the sky that don't hurt anybody. A bright yellow flame pierces the grayish dark, leaving a trail along the varied lengths of fuse.
Ohila's reaction is priceless.
A/N: 7 hours until Actual Doctor Who is on, yee.
Next time that happens I'll be putting up chapter 21. Which is incidentally the longest chapter (6422). How cool.