Doctor Who - 10th Doctor Fan Fic
Jun. 7th, 2006 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bimoTitle: The Fabric That God Weaves
Author: Bimo
Characters: Ten, Reinette
Summary: Human beings are time-blind
Lots of thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
uktechgirl for beta-reading and kind words :-)
THE FABRIC THAT GOD WEAVES
by Bimo
Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson knows better than to stir during the funeral service. People would misinterpret any sign of curiosity as haughtiness.
No, she did not meet the Cavaliere's wife often enough for any serious emotions. To her the woman is merely a stranger who died during childbirth, dragging the fruit of her womb with her, into the ground. Of course, Jeanne-Antoinette feels a vague sadness about this. Sympathy is humankind's most common bond. Identify. Always remember that one day you are the one in the coffin.
Outside the chapel, the world is sunlit , flowery, light. The service continues.
Once the priest, in his fine, paper-dry voice has safely established the image of Heaven, he goes on about the eternal qualities of the Divine, indirectly quoting St. Augustine. God, he finally sums up, exists outside of time. For Him there is no past and no future, just everlasting present.
The words echo in Jeanne-Antoinette's head, get filtered, broken, refocused by the slivers of star stuff she conceived in the night she twirled through Versailles in the arms of a Time Lord.
She crosses her arms, lets them rest on her chest.
The priest, who continues to preach the limits of human perception in Latin, has little drops of sweat on his temples. His pale long face with his terribly awake eyes gives away the fact that he, too, is in love with an eternal, clear, brilliant, linear, non-linear glory.
Later in bed, when her lover, the king, wants her opinion, Jeanne-Antoinette will whisper that the priest appears not very Christian; driven by thought, not human compassion.
Speaking to the congregation to him must be what a stage act is to a well-meaning but utterly untalented performer. He struggles. Doesn't know where to fit in the reality of grief, the reality of forgiveness and mercy.
Jeanne-Antoinette would love to tell him in private that whatever notion you have of eternity and time, regardless of how you picture the almighty creator, your ideas are perfectly pointless. For human beings are time-blind, time-numb, time-deaf.
That much she has learned from her guardian fireplace angel.
It is her understanding that time and space and eternity are the fabric that God weaves. And that her Time Lord walks, runs, chases up and down on this carpet; fully aware of the all the threads and the knots, just not the grace.
Author: Bimo
Characters: Ten, Reinette
Summary: Human beings are time-blind
Lots of thanks to
uktechgirl for beta-reading and kind words :-)THE FABRIC THAT GOD WEAVES
by Bimo
Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson knows better than to stir during the funeral service. People would misinterpret any sign of curiosity as haughtiness.
No, she did not meet the Cavaliere's wife often enough for any serious emotions. To her the woman is merely a stranger who died during childbirth, dragging the fruit of her womb with her, into the ground. Of course, Jeanne-Antoinette feels a vague sadness about this. Sympathy is humankind's most common bond. Identify. Always remember that one day you are the one in the coffin.
Outside the chapel, the world is sunlit , flowery, light. The service continues.
Once the priest, in his fine, paper-dry voice has safely established the image of Heaven, he goes on about the eternal qualities of the Divine, indirectly quoting St. Augustine. God, he finally sums up, exists outside of time. For Him there is no past and no future, just everlasting present.
The words echo in Jeanne-Antoinette's head, get filtered, broken, refocused by the slivers of star stuff she conceived in the night she twirled through Versailles in the arms of a Time Lord.
She crosses her arms, lets them rest on her chest.
The priest, who continues to preach the limits of human perception in Latin, has little drops of sweat on his temples. His pale long face with his terribly awake eyes gives away the fact that he, too, is in love with an eternal, clear, brilliant, linear, non-linear glory.
Later in bed, when her lover, the king, wants her opinion, Jeanne-Antoinette will whisper that the priest appears not very Christian; driven by thought, not human compassion.
Speaking to the congregation to him must be what a stage act is to a well-meaning but utterly untalented performer. He struggles. Doesn't know where to fit in the reality of grief, the reality of forgiveness and mercy.
Jeanne-Antoinette would love to tell him in private that whatever notion you have of eternity and time, regardless of how you picture the almighty creator, your ideas are perfectly pointless. For human beings are time-blind, time-numb, time-deaf.
That much she has learned from her guardian fireplace angel.
It is her understanding that time and space and eternity are the fabric that God weaves. And that her Time Lord walks, runs, chases up and down on this carpet; fully aware of the all the threads and the knots, just not the grace.
