Who: Sarah Jane and OPEN TO: Jack, Jenny, Ianto, Rose Where: The Beach, about 100 yards off from the para-sailing station When: Thursday afternoon (4-ish) What: Gathering the Children of Time Rating: PG, I'm pretty sure Status: Incomplete
Although only Jack and Jenny had replied to her thus far, Sarah Jane made her way down to the beach mid-afternoon, confident that Rose and Ianto would somehow make their way there as well. As she walked, fragments of thought drifted through her mind, threads that should make a tapestry, but somehow had come unraveled. She needed to reweave them, make them make sense, create the picture. Professor Smith. Harold Saxon/The Master. Jenny, even. The problem that Jack wouldn't or couldn't share. And, beyond that, the people talking about various space ships and systems that she didn't recognize, and that Mr. Saxon hadn't recognized. If he was a Time Lord, as Jack had implied, surely he would know of such places? And, of course, her ever-growing worry over Luke and their friends' continued absence from this place.
She chose a spot close enough to the para-sailing area that anyone coming to look for her would be able to see her, but not close enough that the wind would carry voices toward the activity. She'd tucked her trousers into knee-high boots, in the hopes of keeping sand out of her clothing, and brought a blanket to sit on. She wished she had a notebook and pen, but she'd not found one in her wanderings about the place, and she didn't quite trust bringing a laptop to a beach. Ah well. Her journalist's mind was still sharp as ever, even if her knees occasionally protested the bending and stretching required to set herself on her neatly spread-out blanket. Age had so far been kind to her. Perhaps it was a side-effect of traveling in time.