"Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much that she died every night just to let him breathe." — Hanaoko Ishii
The early mornings were her favorite. The air seemed stiller then, quieter, as the city full of ancients slept on. It was a time for peace, a time for silent contemplation. Standing there, soaking up the warm rays of the first sun rising in the sky, she allowed herself to smile, to think of him. What did the sky he was under look like? Was it morning there as well? Or perhaps, it was night instead—a sky full of stars, each twinkling to their own beat, each waiting for the wanderer to come say "hello", so he could share their secrets to the rest of the cosmos.
Maybe he would even bring a few back home to her. They would become stories to share over tea and coffee, sitting by the window and watching as a second sun rose in the south, making the mountains glow. The light would reflect off the bright silver trees in the distance and make the forest seem to catch fire. It would be quiet and peaceful. A good morning: one where they would sit across from each other and sip their Earth drinks, relaxed in the other's presence. A less lonely morning.
She didn't mind the loneliness, though, not always. She liked being alone, letting her thoughts drift off as she tugged the blanket wrapped around her shoulders closer. Alone was nice. It was quiet and peaceful. It was safe. Alone never let her down. How could it? It was always there for her, even during the times she didn't want its company. It crept up when she least expected it. A moment at the dining table, staring at the empty chair in front of her. A classroom full of students, listening to a ridiculous yet poignant question tumble from the lips of one of the children. Outside among the red grass fields, staring up at the moon as it shone brightly with a light not of its own making.
The early mornings were her favorite, but they were also the hardest. It was why her feet dragged across the floor in the morning. It was why she was slow to sip her coffee, clinging to the dreamy fog that still clouded her mind in those early hours. It was why, when asked, she had claimed she wasn't a morning person, not now and not ever.
"Doesn't that make you a night person then?" the young lady had asked, one of his friends. She liked this one. She was inquisitive and confident.
"I suppose. Although, to be honest, I'm not sure I'm either. Morning person, night person—it makes no difference to me. They're just words used to limit our understanding of time. If I slept through the day and woke up in the evening, does that not make the night my morning and your morning my night?"
"Well, yes. I guess you're right."
"I usually am. He just doesn't like to admit it."
She glanced up, watching as the second sun finally began to rise. The air was getting warmer, but there was a slight breeze now. A breeze and the sound of life. The city was slowly waking up, and soon the hustle and bustle of the day to day activities of Arcadia would be heard.
She sighed and stretched out her arms as she closed her eyes. This was home. Sometimes it was lonely, sometimes less so. Sometimes she loved watching the suns rise and the city come to life, sometimes she loved watching them set and the city go to sleep. Sometimes she was too busy to watch either.
Sometimes he was here. Sometimes he wasn't.
Always she would miss him.
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! This is my new Doctor Who fanfiction All the Time That Heals. It will be revolving around an original Time Lady, known as The Lady. This was pretty short, but the first chapter will cover half of Utopia, so it will be much longer. Let me know what you think of the prologue! Your guys' encouragement definitely feeds into my inspiration and motivation to write more.