lyndawithay: (foot)
*quietly sets down a small suitcase*
*takes a deep breath and walks into Arthur's study*

Arthur, darling?

I'm leaving.

Letter

Nov. 17th, 2007 01:11 am
lyndawithay: (pensive)
*sits at her writing desk*
*writes*

Dear Arthur,

I am leaving you. Please don't be unhappy; it's really for the best. I don't think I can stand watching you grow old and die while I just go on and on. I'm going to try to find a way to get rid of this immortality, and if I can I'll come back, but please don't wait too long. Find some normal girl you can have a normal life with.

Love,
Lynda


*reads over it several times, nodding*
*folds it up carefully*

*throws it in the fire and watches it burn*
*sighs and puts her elbow on the desk, rubbing her forehead*
lyndawithay: (Default)
Had dream Arthur was a schoolteacher. Also institutional cruelty, racism, snogging of some blonde nurse. Martha was there too.

Very distressing. Think am finally getting the hang of monogamy.
lyndawithay: (sad)
*goes back to Australia after telling Ianto the news*

*falls onto the parlor sofa and weeps*

*wipes her eyes*

*goes up to bed*
lyndawithay: (Default)
Dear everyone,

Arthur and I are having a lovely time. It was slow going for a while; the heat is so oppressive we could barely force ourselves to go outside at first!

The jungles here are stunning, if somewhat mosquito-infested. So far we haven't yet managed to get photography equipment and wildlife coordinated sufficiently to actually photograph a tiger, but we have seen several from a safe distance. I keep trying to convince Arthur that a more modern camera would make picture-taking so much easier, but he will do it the hard way.

I'm sure it's been terribly dull over there, as we haven't heard from any of you. We plan to stay another month at least; the soldiers are so pleasant and we've both become quite fond of the obligatory gin-and-tonics.

Love to all,

Lynda (with a Y) Gate
lyndawithay: (sad)
*sits in the bedroom trying very hard not to cry*

Why did I say that? Why didn't I leave before I got so angry?

*throws herself across the bed, face down, with a sob*
lyndawithay: (pensive)
*sits next to the bassinet, letting the baby grab her index finger*

*sighs*

You're the fourth of the Doctor's children that's shown up round here. Of course, Pfred was already grown. And you won't get to meet Fred, poor thing. But still, with the oodbabies, and Bellino's little one on the way, we're positively drowning in babies. Maybe that's why I haven't been able to -

*rests her head against the rim of the bassinet and looks at Dafydd fondly*

Oh, why do you have to be so gorgeous, sweetheart?
lyndawithay: (Default)
Congratulations, Ianto and Penelope!

I brought a casserole.
lyndawithay: (pensive)
Dear Ood,

I wasn't able to catch Jimmy, but he said he might be going to Wackyland. Do you know where that is? Maybe I can find him or write to him there. I really need to get that note back from him; I feel uneasy knowing it's out there. If you see him, could you please let him know I want it back?

I hope your head is feeling better. Did you ever catch up with Jack? And just out of curiosity, what did you want to talk to him about, regarding the children? Perhaps I should be


*knocks over her inkwell accidentally and soaks the letter*

Oh, no. What a mess.

*runs to get a cloth*
lyndawithay: (pensive)
*walks back to the house with Lonely Ood, helping him carry back the variety of reviving equipment he brought out*

...Ood? You said earlier you felt something. And you had an icepack on your head...?

Dead

Jan. 22nd, 2007 03:00 am
lyndawithay: (apprehensive/unnerved)
*in the blackness, after having shot herself*

*tries to force herself to go in further*

JACK! TIME TO GO!
lyndawithay: (foot)
Jimmy, I think Doctor Joyce really does need your help. Won't you let him have a sample of your biodata?
lyndawithay: (Default)
*wanders aimlessly around the house*

*picks up duster and dusts a shelf absently*

*suddenly realises she's been dusting the same shelf for fifteen minutes*

*tries to concentrate on embroidering a pillow*

*stabs her finger several times and gives up*

*walks to the window and stares outside*
lyndawithay: (serious)
Dear Ood,

I don't want to see you. Anything you feel the need to say, you can write.

Lynda Gate
lyndawithay: (nonplussed/concerned)
*waits until Lonely Ood has gone*

Arthur...are you all right? What did he say to you?
lyndawithay: (Default)
*enters kitchen, dressed in her best Victorian housewife ensemble, to keep her appointment with Jack, and sits at the table*

All right, here I am. Let's talk.

Why did Arthur contact you? How did you know about my suicide?

And how can you possibly help me?
lyndawithay: (serious)
*enters the house, covered in blood, and walks unsteadily into the bath, locking the door behind her*

*lays a pistol on the washstand, undresses and puts her clothes into the tub*

*opens the medicine cabinet and takes several swallows of laundanum, and washes the blood from her face, hands and hair*

*examines a round scar on her temple in the mirror, staring at it as it vanishes*

*carefully lowers herself to the floor and sits, naked, holding her head in her hands*
lyndawithay: (pensive)
*happily lying in bed after a very long and enthusiastic shag homecoming celebration*

*rolls onto her side to look at Arthur, her head resting on her arm*

Sweetheart?

I need to tell you what happened, but I'm afraid it might frighten you.
lyndawithay: (pensive)
Between the transformation of Daedalus and Giacomo, the appearance of Miss Gate's former self, Ood getting dumped, and the growing insanity of several people over conflicting versions of their backstories, I feel like I haven't slept in a month. Sometimes I feel like Martha and I are the only sane ones here.

And we still haven't yet caught Bruce the Tiger, or found out what, if anything, the Dream Police are up to.

I'm so tired. Of all of it.

*falls asleep*

*dreams*
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