Third Entry

[suewnsong.livejournal.com]

[If you've managed to stumble back into River Song's dreams, today you'll find yourself in a drab cement hallway, which seems to curve off into the distance indefinitely. There's a constant blueish teal light flooding the hallway, but the constant flashes of lightning through the windows in each of the cells lining the left wall nearly do more to light the place and the row of wall phones on the right than the lights. Much of the cells are empty, although there's evidence people ought to be living in them by personal belongings and messed covers. In the distance you might hear an indecipherable loud speaker, the clanging of metal, and marching boots of soldiers, but they never get louder no matter how far you go in either direction.

Eventually, you might find the one cell with a prisoner still inside. Doctor River song sits on her cot, scrawling an entry into an oversized and overworn blue diary. The stylish outfits she's worn are replaced by a dress that's little more than a rag, and her well-kept curls are a bit wild this time.

Once she's finished writing, she snaps the book shut and glances up with a smile.]

I thought you might be along.

Comments

[suewnsong.livejournal.com]

The most monumental. [Her expression is perfectly neutral with her first answer, but a slow smile spreads with his second question.] No, I don't think you have, have you?

[no-hometown.livejournal.com]

And what did you do, if I may ask? [He wouldn't jump to any conclusions until he knows all the details--or believes he does. Besides, it isn't his place to judge criminals. He is a soldier.]

No, not that I recall. My name is Sephiroth.

[suewnsong.livejournal.com]

I killed someone. Someone very important. [If her smile fades at all, it's fully returned by her introduction.] Doctor River Song. I have a feeling we might just see more of each other in the future.

[no-hometown.livejournal.com]

I see. [Sephiroth has only killed people on the battlefield, in the context of warfare, but he isn't particularly fazed by what she says. He's quite familiar with assassins in his line of work. He decides it would be impolitic to inquire further. He nods.] Doctor Song.

Perhaps we will, though I don't know when I'll have occasion to visit here again. This is another dream, I take it. So you are not truly bound here.