River at her youngest grabs him with claws, kisses him with teeth, and when they fall into bed after a long day of running she’s like a hurricane — directionless and destructive, after nights with his early-days wife, he’s covered in blotches of red and tiny-smug teeth marks, fingernail scratches along his back and bruises around his hips. She makes him into wreckage, when she’s not quite River Song yet, and he shouldn’t like it, but he kind of does, a bit.
When the Doctor appeared to see River by speaking her name, River said, “And here he is, my dashing boy. I do like the new coat.”
"That’s not possible," said the Doctor.
Oh, and there’s gray hair number eight - is it wrong if I do a little dance?” continued River as the Doctor walked right through her hologram-like form to the gravestone.
Shivering, she added, “Ooh! He’s still got it though.”
- fr. “The Name of the Doctor” draft script , DWM guide to the 2013 series
This is old (I asked for prompts a few weeks ago and didn’t get ‘round to them all) but I’m crabby and unfocused so if anybody wants to send me prompts tonight you’re highly encouraged to do so~
River’s got a scar behind her left ear from an unfortunate incident with an entirely unnecessary curling iron. It’s at stark odds with the pale ridge of skin that snakes its way just below it, stopping at the side of her jaw and usually hidden by hair left by a rapier wielded against her during training when she was twelve, give or take.
He pieces together her story over the years, bits of horror and mundanity and trauma and romance written onto her skin like a story he gets to read those rare times she sheds her armor and lets him in.