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Doctor Who Redux 0 Pilot 1212.
Felicia was a little surprised when, on exiting the TARDIS, she and the Doctor were confronted by Julianna.
"What the hell you doing in there?" Rufus demanded, glowering.
"What the hell business is it of yours?" Felicia snapped back, immediately annoyed by his attitude. Where he had suddenly got this desire to be protective of her she had no idea, but she was getting pretty sick of it, all things told. The Doctor came out of the newsstand after her, pulling the newsstand door closed. For the first time it made a satisfying click, and the Doctor shook it to make sure it was locked. He turned around to see the new arrivals.
"Julianna. Rufus. Interesting time of morning to be out," he said conversationally. And, he was right, Felicia realised. It must have been still before five in the morning, and yet here were her friends. For Rufus to be out of bed before ten seemed strangely out of character. Though the fact the Doctor was greeting Rufus with some sort of gang handshake seemed eve
Doctor Who Redux 0 Pilot 1111.
The shutters were pulled down on the TARDIS and the side door was locked, which meant Felicia banged as loud as she could on the side where the interior door seemed to be.
She had quickly pulled on a light florally dress to see the Doctor when it occurred to her how useful it had been during the day that she had ended up spending it in her gym gear. As such the dress was pulled off and replaced with gym shorts, a t-shirt, a second set of looser shorts and her trusty sneakers.
She had been hopeful about escaping from her house without anyone noticing, given that it was three in the morning, but she had completely forgotten the household schedule, and encountered her father getting ready to head in to work. A janitor at a hospital in Tribeca, his shift was an awkward time, but it did have the advantage that he was hope relatively early in the afternoon. They had exchanged some small talk as he queried why she would be heading out, but fortunately her outfit backed up her story that s
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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