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“Rose Tyler, tell me you’ve heard of the Northern Lights!” The Doctor turned to her, unable to keep the lightyear-wide grin off his face.
“‘Course I have,” she scoffed, tossing her hair to one side as she tilted her face up to him. The glittering colors above them seemed to be reflected in her loose blonde curls, turning its light color to a fluid display of pinks and reds and greens and purples. The Doctor couldn’t help but think that she was prettier than the real thing. Of course, he reflected. The sky has nothing on Rose.
He almost didn’t realize when she’d continued talking. “But these can’t be the Northern Lights...I’ve seen pictures. The real ones are nothing this...spectacular.” Her face was flushed as her eyes scanned him for answers.
“C’mon now Rose, I told you this when we first met!” He joked. “Lots of planets have a north!”
This made her laugh. This made her eyes crinkle and her mouth open wide and her voice ring out like some kind of joyful song, and The Doctor felt like he had done something right for once.
“Go on then, Doctor, tell me” she insisted, nudging him, the giggles still in her voice. “What planet are we on?”
Gesturing grandly at the soaring colors above them, the Doctor replied, “I present to you the planet Micat, where every two hundred and thirteen years the solar winds of its four suns blow in such harmony that they create one of the most spectacular light shows in the universe. And It just so happens that they happen to be alligning on Christmas Eve, Earth time.”
She caught him in a gleeful embrace, her eyes glued to the swirling patterns of radiant color above them. “Thank you,” she whispered, craning her neck so her lips could reach his ear.
He wrapped an arm around Rose and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Rose Tyler.”
Together, they watched the world above them pulsate and fold upon itself, twisting and turning and breathing itself to life. It was light a painter were splashing color across the sky with a brush, then mixing it and shaping it into some image out of a dream.
Better yet, they looked onto the palate, where paint was smeared and blended into perfect hues and new tones were added, and sometimes if you look at the palate you could get a better idea of who the artist is than if you looked at the actual painting. This is where the magic happens.
There were scarlets and marrons, ceruleans and indigos, literally silver and gold arrangements bursting across their vision. “it’s lovely,” breathed Rose. “i wish there was a word to describe how lovely it is.”
I”I’m glad you like it,” he answered her. “I think it’s fantastic. I didn’t know what to expect. Never been here before, of course.”
“Really?” she withdrew from her hug and turned her attention to the Doctor. “Nine hundred years and you’ve never been here?”
“The universe is big!” he protested. “Lots to do! And besides,” he continued. “I was saving this for something special.”
“How special?” she asked, smiling. Rose was teasing him, the Doctor knew, and he hoped the dimness would cover his godforsaken blush.
“It’s our first Christmas Eve; isn’t that special enough for you?”
There was her smile again. There she was, putting the stars to shame again. “Yeah,” Rose agreed, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. It was soft, secretive, endearing. She pulled away almost too quickly, pressing her nose to his. Rose was so close he could see her breath as the misty wisps mingled with his. “This is pretty special.”