[ Hundreds of years ago, with a different face — long before the Time War, before the things that haunt him when he closes his eyes — he'd thought of magic as superstitious rubbish. Him, with his long scarf and floppy, curly hair, a life he can barely remember sometimes. Magic was easily explained by science, but now he's here in this place and it's everywhere, and Julia herself speaks of a magical place that might have only been a dream, just a story, but wasn't. And so he thinks, old as he is now, magic might have its place. He certainly can't deny it now, can he?
She speaks of ageless gods detached from emotion and he's not far from that himself. Or, he hasn't been at times. By others' reckoning. He'd stopped helping, hadn't he? After a life spent being a Doctor, he'd lost Amy and Rory, and he'd stopped. He'd turned his back on all of it. At the depths of his soul, there are shadows there in the light, and there always have been. ]
Impossible choices. I know a bit about those, too. [ A bit. As if that's not the whole of his life. ]
Oh, Julia. [ He says her name softly, almost tenderly, a wistful expression in his eyes. She asks his favorite, and all he can think of are the places and people he misses most. ]
How could I choose? It's endless. Every universe, it goes on and on, longer and further than you can fathom. I know how it began and I know how it ends and it's all so sad and beautiful and lonely and wonderful. Your Fillory, for example, I've been places like that before, oh so many of them. Worlds where the sky burns and the seas sleep. People made of smoke and cities made of song. There's danger and adventure and people who need help and hope.
[ As he talks, she'll notice his hands moving a bit wildly, excitedly, his whole body never really quite still. ]
My favorite? The next one, of course. [ A cheeky grin. The next one, because that's life, right? It keeps going. ] You know in my travels, something nearly constant — even on the darkest days, the very worst moments, people still look up. Why do you think that is?
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She speaks of ageless gods detached from emotion and he's not far from that himself. Or, he hasn't been at times. By others' reckoning. He'd stopped helping, hadn't he? After a life spent being a Doctor, he'd lost Amy and Rory, and he'd stopped. He'd turned his back on all of it. At the depths of his soul, there are shadows there in the light, and there always have been. ]
Impossible choices. I know a bit about those, too. [ A bit. As if that's not the whole of his life. ]
Oh, Julia. [ He says her name softly, almost tenderly, a wistful expression in his eyes. She asks his favorite, and all he can think of are the places and people he misses most. ]
How could I choose? It's endless. Every universe, it goes on and on, longer and further than you can fathom. I know how it began and I know how it ends and it's all so sad and beautiful and lonely and wonderful. Your Fillory, for example, I've been places like that before, oh so many of them. Worlds where the sky burns and the seas sleep. People made of smoke and cities made of song. There's danger and adventure and people who need help and hope.
[ As he talks, she'll notice his hands moving a bit wildly, excitedly, his whole body never really quite still. ]
My favorite? The next one, of course. [ A cheeky grin. The next one, because that's life, right? It keeps going. ] You know in my travels, something nearly constant — even on the darkest days, the very worst moments, people still look up. Why do you think that is?