The darkness swirls inside her. She had felt it seep into her even as she watched her Thief brought back from the brink of death to drive away the enemies of Christmas. She knows it comes from Gallifrey. She knows what it will do to her.
But does her Thief know what has happened to her?
She knows he is bothered by his own changes, and she can understand his concerns. But this time she, too, is undergoing a change and she is desperate to convey her own situation to him before he is caught up in whatever nefarious or evil plans the Time Lords have in mind.
Even as this forms into solid realisation in her logic circuits, she feels that the energy is trying to slip away into the world on which the Doctor landed the TARDIS during his regeneration. She corrals and controls it as best she can, knowing it to be a losing battle but refusing to give in while her Thief is vulnerable.
The poor dinosaur is an unwitting victim, scooped up in the battle of new and old forces and dragged along for the ride.
With what little control she has retained, the TARDIS finds a place she hopes will draw her Thief's attention to her plight. Surely, surely! when he has to explore the theft of so many body parts from different people to create one living form, he will be reminded of the time when they talked.
Surely he won’t forget her, his oldest companion.
Their arrival, lodged in the dinosaur's throat, is violent enough that it shakes loose her attempt to rein in the threat, and she can only watch helplessly as it swirls around her Thief when he opens the door and addresses his old friends. For a moment she thinks she might be able to escape the grip of the darkness, that it may all vanish outside to wreak havoc in Victorian England, but only a part of controlling energy leaves her.
What remains tightens its grip, at the same time starting to adopt the form of a walking, talking, living threat to her Thief.
It seeks out a form to take in this new world, a figure that can attract his attentions and lure him into its own dangers.
With her memory of those precious moments face-to-face with her Thief uppermost, she offers the darkness a form for it to adopt: that of Idris, the one human form the TARDIS has ever taken.
Perhaps he will see this for the sign that the TARDIS wishes it to be. Perhaps it will remind him of her and make him understand what she is suffering.
She feels as the energy takes a moment to consider her offer - and the scorn with which it is rejected. The image that has been projected shifts and changes, the hair swirling up into a stiffer and more stern appearance while the clothes lose their raggedy appearance, becoming immaculately neat. This woman forms her own mental world of a garden that is almost painful in its perfection. The outfit and the world both scream of control and order; everything that is opposite to what Idris was and the TARDIS is.
This woman strides up and down the empty area around the central garden, trying out her new legs and also considering her first steps.
“Well, well,” she muses aloud, turning to the controls, “a wealth of information here about both the Doctor and his little pet. All that is needed is a way to draw together this Time Lord and his — what was it he called her? Oh, yes, the Impossible Girl. I am certain that will get their attention.”
The energy swirls and sucks itself back into the heart of the TARDIS, sprinkling itself through time to affect whatever plans it has in mind.
As the darkness overwhelms her, the TARDIS can only hope her Thief will come to her rescue before it captures him, too.
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