He'd long ago lost track of the number of sapient tree people he'd met; when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. But this was new and much more exciting! Sapient flowers, delicate and graceful, surrounded him, scenting the air with their perfume. Their nodding blooms concealed shy faces and their leaves formed fragile-seeming limbs that proved stronger and more dextrous than they at first appeared.
“They’re beautiful!” Clara exclaimed.
“They’re more than just beautiful, Clara, they’re incredible, extraordinary, amazing! In fact, they’re brilliant!” He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the nearest flower, taking readings. “Oh, you are gorgeous!” The flower smiled bashfully at him and he beamed back at her.
“Doctor, stop flirting with the flowers!”
“I wasn’t! I don’t… I was just…” He looked back at the flower who was peeping coyly at him, her petals flushing a delicate pink.
“Oh yes, very pretty, beautiful in fact.”
The flower giggled like the rustling of a breeze through leaves and sidled closer. Her scent was getting stronger.
“You strange, I like.”
“Well, that’s nice!”
“Doctor…” Clara warned.
“Not now, Clara.”
“We dance?” The flower swayed gracefully in front of the Doctor, extending her leaf hands towards him. Around them, the other flower people swayed and sighed a breathy melody as if the breeze itself were singing.
“Oh, well, why not? When in Rome…” He took the soft, fleshy leaves in his hands and allowed himself to be led in an elegant, oddly hypnotic, swirling dance, which involved a lot of bowing to each other and leaning one way, then another. The flower’s scent was enticing, rich and spicy, filling the Doctor’s nose, and he couldn’t help breathing it in. Between the fragrance and the spinning, he was soon feeling quite giddy, but enjoying himself far too much to care.
The airy music was reaching a crescendo; the Doctor barely even felt the brief sting as a pair of thorn-tipped tendrils pierced his wrists, the hollow barbs siphoning off a small amount of his blood. As the music slowed, fading away to silence, and his dancing partner released his hands, the Doctor’s head started to clear. The flower’s scent was barely detectable now.
“Good dance, I thank you.” She bowed her head, shuffling slightly, her feet digging into the earth that had been churned up by their dance. “Our children will remember.” One last, sweet smile and she became still, her eyes closing and her petals already beginning to droop.
The Doctor frowned; she looked like she was dying, but how was that possible when she’d been so alive just moments ago? He reached for his sonic screwdriver again, but Clara stopped him.
“She got what she needed from you. I tried to tell you, but…” she shrugged, “you weren’t listening.”
The flowers surrounding them bowed low. “New blood, new life. This one fades now, brings forth new growth. You strong, they be strong also. We prepare.”
“Guess you’re going to be a dad soon,” Clara grinned, taking the Doctor by the arm and steering him back towards the TARDIS. “I hope they take after their mother. I’m not sure the universe could handle a bunch of flower versions of you!”
Despite his spluttered protests, the Doctor allowed himself to be propelled back inside the TARDIS, but he made a mental note to return at some point to check on his accidental offspring. Flower people with Time Lord DNA; who knew what might they become?