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Mar. 11th, 2005 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nitro_is_ace"Doctor? Doctor!" Ace is getting tired. her gear is up there, on the path somewhere, and far below her the wild Extan river rushes by, swollen and raging from the melting snow. It roars through the long, twisting, narrow canyon passage. The canyon that is currently holds a population of one - Ace. She's supposed to be in the river, or, at least, that's what the overlord wished. However, she had managed to snag a narrow shelf on the jagged black rock on her way down, scraping off a bit of skin from her hands in the process. Further exploration had revealed a narrow, sloping ridge of rock, just wide enough to gain a foothold, once she precariously pulled herself up.
Her legs ache from crouching for so long, an unpleasant counterpoint to the sting in her hands. She hasn't seen the Doctor since the mob swept them apart, but according to her own experience, she figures he's terribly late. He should definitely be here by now.
For the thousandth time that evening, she scans the surrounding sheer walls, hoping that a few hand and footholds had magically appeared in the slick black rock since the last time she looked. They haven't. She's almost tempted to try creating a few holds wih the spare bit of nitro she has stashed in her right boot, but there's issue of first planting the nitro securely on the slick rock, then somehow igniting the explosive without blowing her fingers off. She's quite fond of her fingers.
"Doctor!" she howls, and listens to her voice echo down the canyon until it gets lost in the sound of rushing, violent water. Shivering, she curls up against the rock face in a vain attempt to conserve body heat as the last of the day's light begins to fail. Oddly eough, as she dozes uneasily, she's not thinking about a certain obnoxiously-mysterious Time Lord... she dreaming about a quirky wizard with warm hands and smiley-face boxers.
Her legs ache from crouching for so long, an unpleasant counterpoint to the sting in her hands. She hasn't seen the Doctor since the mob swept them apart, but according to her own experience, she figures he's terribly late. He should definitely be here by now.
For the thousandth time that evening, she scans the surrounding sheer walls, hoping that a few hand and footholds had magically appeared in the slick black rock since the last time she looked. They haven't. She's almost tempted to try creating a few holds wih the spare bit of nitro she has stashed in her right boot, but there's issue of first planting the nitro securely on the slick rock, then somehow igniting the explosive without blowing her fingers off. She's quite fond of her fingers.
"Doctor!" she howls, and listens to her voice echo down the canyon until it gets lost in the sound of rushing, violent water. Shivering, she curls up against the rock face in a vain attempt to conserve body heat as the last of the day's light begins to fail. Oddly eough, as she dozes uneasily, she's not thinking about a certain obnoxiously-mysterious Time Lord... she dreaming about a quirky wizard with warm hands and smiley-face boxers.
