"I didn't know you painted."
The Doctor, who was not presently painting, looked up from the book he'd been reading. Yes, by all accounts Twilight
was a worthless novel, but the war of the Team Jacobs versus the Team Edwards was a huge part of the mid 21st century Earth culture, and he figured it was really about time he gave a read to figure out what that nonsense was all about. The only thing the Doctor had worked out was that Earth women made no sense and Charlie really needed his own series.
"I…do?" he asked.
Rose stepped from the back room, producing a piece of canvas with a hillside and a castle painted to it. It was incomplete, and it took the Doctor a few moments to register that it was, in fact, something he had done during one of the many "time to find myself" periods of his sixth life. It was the same time in his life that he'd learned how to knit, draw, paint, do ceramics, and play the vuvuzula. It was also the period in his life where he suffered the most thwacks on the head with a vuvuzula wielded by Evelyn Smythe.
"Ah, yes," he said, slipping off his glasses. "Yeah, that's one of mine. How did you know? I'd have taken it for a Rembrant. Or a Van Gogh. Well, not really impressionistic enough for a Van Gogh, I suppose."
"You didn't clean the brushes, but they have your name on them," Rose explained. "Where is this?"
"Outside of France," he said. "Early 5th century. It was my favorite place to take tea, so I started painting there."( Collapse )Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,294