Since We'll Forget

The Ocean

Two psychic paper tickets later, Yaz found herself standing atop a seemingly endless and nauseatingly ill-maintained set of stairs roughly hewn into side of the mountain. The salty breeze, which played lazily across the surface of the pellucid waters hundreds of feet below, was fierce and powerful up here; this close to the edge of the cliff, it whipped through Yaz's hair and stung her eyes.

"I don't know about this," she said, leaning over the unnervingly loose wooden barrier at the top of the staircase and contemplating the dozens of thin, crumbling switchbacks below. "How... regulated is this place?"

"Very!" the Doctor replied. "Well, I mean... we signed the waivers, which, admittedly, were quite thorough, but nobody's died yet! ...I think."

"You think?" Yaz asked, her knuckles going white against the cherry-colored wood.

"Aw, come on, Yaz!" the Doctor said, the ferocious wind billowing at her coat and turning her cheeks pink. "We've done much worse before! Remember the crane?"

Yaz's heart leapt into her throat. "Yeah... I didn't exactly enjoy the whole 'climbing up' thing."

But the Doctor was already fifty feet below her, hopping from grassy step to grassy step with astonishing ease.

Yaz took a deep breath and steadied herself. She glanced around the fjord. It was undeniably beautiful. There was the peaceful, glassy expanse of bright pink water below her, a formidable salmon-colored cliff rising from it with another set of tiny stairs carved into its rocky side. There was the meadow atop the cliff, carpeted in soft, fuchsia-colored grass that swayed invitingly, beckoning her over. In the distance, she could see a great tear drop-shaped building spiraling skyward, taller than any Earth building she'd seen, glowing in the rosy sunlight like a beacon. Behind that was a set of mountains, towering but with edges worn soft by time, each ridge cast in a different purplish hue. To the back of her was the sprawling meadow where they'd arrived-- she could see the TARDIS a ways off, its windows blazing the same fiery pink as the building across the way. In this light, the box's blue wood looked almost violet. To the right of her, just within her line of sight, was the edge of the cliff, and beyond that, the vast ocean, shining beneath bubblegum-pink clouds and a sky painted with colors that looked astonishingly like an Earth sunrise.

"Are you coming?" came a small voice from far below her. Yaz glanced down from her perch and saw the tiny form of the Doctor, already halfway through the switchbacks, looking up at her. Far below her, the dense crowd of tourists was already reaching the docks. Yaz could just make out the forms of Mr. Lemming and the other chaperone, trying unsuccessfully to corral their teeming charges.

"Coming!" Yaz yelled back, hoping her voice wouldn't get lost in the wind.

'It's now or never, Yaz. WWTDD?'

Yaz blinked. The Doctor had already resumed her nimble and impressively fast-paced journey to the bottom.

'Well... that.'

So, gripping her fists together so tightly that her nails bit into the palms of her hands, Yaz gritted her teeth and began the descent. She couldn't much focus on the abundant beauty around her; one misstep and she'd be hurtling into the water below. She cursed the Andarans for neglecting railings.

'Must be pretty well-balanced, then.'

It took a shockingly small amount of time for Yaz to reach the bottom, even with the fact that she practically butt-scooted down half the stairs. She hastily wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead as the Doctor, hardly winded, strode toward her, followed by the female chaperone.

"You made it!" the Doctor said, a little overeagerly. Yaz grinned.

"Barely."

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Sorry, being rude. Again."