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DEN: Lamp

Doctor Who: Hard Words For Soft Sounds

Title: Hard Words For Soft Sounds
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Koschei, mention of Theta (some Theta/Koschei)
Summary: Koschei and his Drums
Notes: The first set of fics that came around because of my psych work. Just kind of brush over the syllables if you can, I'm not absolutely sure if I got them right, even now. Never been much good with that sort of thing but I hold out hope that, for the most part, they work right.



He remembers the first time it happened, the simple rhythm swelling to the point that it felt as if his one mind wouldn't be able to contain it anymore. To where he was sure that it must have been pouring out of him and overwhelming the entire Citadel.

Bring-us-the-stars-bring-us-the-stars...

And then Theta walks in and sees him, questions him about what's wrong and Koschei can only smile, and say it's nothing.

But when he hears the rhythm in his voice, hears it in 'No-thing-is-wrong,' he shakes his head.

"I think there's something wrong."

~*~

He tells Theta only the basics at first, only that it's this ever-present rhythm in his mind, nothing more, and sometimes it gets loud.

Very loud.

He doesn't tell him that when it's to that point, when he's in his bed for the day, clutching a pillow or biting on his lip so hard it starts to bleed, that they speak to him.

Bring-us-the-stars...

Con-quor-and-win

Give-us-a-war...

He can't bring himself to tell him, not at first because he knows, as soon as soon as the words leave his lips, he won't be there anymore.

He's fought so hard against them and he refuses to let Theta be their first casualty.

~*~

He wasn't possessive, not really.

His arms come around Theta's shoulders and pull him close, holding him there as some professor brushes passed them, giving the two a curious glance.

They had been talking only moments ago, talking about him.

They said that there was something wrong, that he was falling very ill and Theta should be careful, shouldn't get to close, should consider perhaps getting to know other students...

"Say-that-you're-mine,' the drums whisper to him then and he wonders just what they're talking about.

Theta turns his head just slightly, and brushes a kiss against his cheek, swift and light but enough to get him to loosen his grip and quiet them, if only for a few moments.

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DEN: Lamp

August 2008

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