aciculated: (a keener eye than yours)
I do not know what the thoughts are in your head, but I am no puppet, no dancing girl to perform for your pleasure!  I am Leela of the Sevateem, and I return to their city only when I will it, not you.

There are so many who are dead, or gone; a true warrior would have avenged them, spilt blood that their passage might have been marked and paid for.  But now the dead are only ghosts, and I must make my peace with them before I do anything more.  I feel a great weariness, deeper than flesh, in my soul.  It is strange to me, like I might sleep with the turning of the planet and only wake many spans from now.  It is cool out here, and dark, and I am as a lion once more.  That is good, and it is mine; I will not give it up for you, or anyone.  Everything else which was mine has been taken from me, so I must guard jealously what I have left, as the wyrm with its eggs.  In my tribe, writer-girl, there were wise old women who would leave for days to commune with the spirits in the wild lands.  They would eat special berries, and observe strange signs, and listen to the Spirit's voice.  I know not what berries there are to be found on this Gallifrey, and I am a warrior, not any wise old woman, but I think... I think I must try to be.  Before there can be anything else.

Yes of course I miss Romana!  Do not be stupid; I miss K9 as well, and Braxiatel and my other friends.  But she is dead to me now, just as they are.  Perhaps her ghost will have some words for a lonely lion.

And I do not miss Narvin.  No-matter the words and thoughts you try to put into my head.

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Leela of the Sevateem

December 2013

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