[closed] What's the use of five billion languages now

[alwaysalright]

The Doctor's in the middle of having tea when the ripple runs through the rift. It makes his hair stand on end and leaves him feeling a bit queasy, so it must have been a strong one. Better go check it out.

He abandons his tea half drunk, walking briskly back to the console room and skipping up the steps. He fiddles with the controls a bit, then pulls the screen over to take a look at it.

He continues looking for several seconds.

When the screen refuses to give him anything of meaning, he fiddles with more controls, but all it gives him is more gibberish. Then he hits the monitor, but that doesn't make any difference either.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks, giving her a worried and confused nudge with his mind. "Eh?"

Comments

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS has been doing her best to deal with fluctuations in rift activity, trying to compensate in times when the energy levels are either so weak she's starting to run out of power, or so strong they threaten to overload her capacitors. It's stressful at the best of times, but the ripple running through the entire island this morning is like a shock to her systems.

She quickly realizes it didn't do any tangible damage, at least, but there's a definite change she can't identify at all, and nothing should be able to affect her like that, like a suffocatingly heavy cloak on parts of her perception or her mind, and why can't she tell what it is? Panic begins to rise in her and some alarm lights start blinking frantically on the console, more gibberish appearing on the monitor. She answers him with her own incomprehension and fear that something's been done to her.

[alwaysalright]

The Doctor realises quickly that the TARDIS isn't exactly unaware of something going on, beyond the mysterious rift activity.

"I can't read this," he tells her, looking at the monitor. Still, reassures her, they'll be fine, hang in there, he'll fix it. He's not sure how, but he will. Maybe her translation circuits have been knocked out or something. Only no, that shouldn't really affect her ability to show Gallifreyan, should it? He tries to ask her what's wrong.

It hasn't occured to him yet that the fault might lie with him.

[theoldgirl]

She clings to his wordless reassurances until she's able to calm down slightly, of course they'll figure out what's wrong together and find a way to fix it. Only then she notices his words are unintelligible to her; relying primarily on telepathy to communicate with him, and being so distracted by her panic, it hadn't even occurred to her before. But now it has, and it should be impossible.

More fearsome again, she sends him a clear memory of him talking just now and how she'd perceived it, followed by a rush of pressing confusion. What's happening to them?

[alwaysalright]

The Doctor blinks in confusion over her perception of him. That's obviously not what he said. Is she showing him what's wrong with her - that she can't understand him, in addition to not being able to show things on the monitor. Or is it him there's something wrong with?

He runs down one of the stairs and around the corner, hurrying into a room to try to find something else to read. He finds a recipe book - Rassilon knows what that's doing there, but whatever - and flips through the pages. Nope. More nonsense. Okay then. He rifles through some stuff until he finds some more to (fail to) read, before he's sure. Definitely him, if not both of them. But only them, or?

Hurrying back to the console room, now followed by a kitten, he tries to communicate his question to her without words: Is this just them or is it affecting other people too?

[theoldgirl]

It's difficult to control her nervousness when he goes in search for more information on the matter, but she does her best to rein in her no doubt distracting roil of emotions to let him investigate. It hadn't even occurred to her that others may be affected too, so when he conveys his question she directs her sensors and senses outward, trying to reach as much of the city and the people therein as possible.

A few moments later she answers by showing him the weak but pervasive sense of oddness all over the entire area, a shimmering field of distortion, distinctly rift-flavored. The mounting feelings of confusion bordering on panic as more and more people wake up to the change are also hard to miss, now that she's looking, without even having to focus on any one mind in particular.

[alwaysalright]

Right. So not just them. Slightly bigger problem. But you know what this means? It means they're not alone. He tries to reassure her of this: more people affected means more people trying to fix it. It also means this is not a targeted attack or a malfunction. They'll be fine.

Sighing as he spots the newly arrived kitten trying to follow him up the stairs, he goes to pick it up. The problem with trying to figure these things out is that since they seem to be tied to strong emotions, they only show up when he's thoroughly distracted.

Now that he has some more details about the weird rift effects, he inquires about her general state. Disregarding the disturbing and stressful communication problem, is she still alright?

[theoldgirl]

Knowing they're not the only ones does reassure her; not only will more people try to fix it, but there's also the hope that it's temporary, that the next spike in rift energy will negate the current low-level distortion field. She tries to agree with his hopefulness by communicating this thought, which comes across as a taste of her fundamental faith in Time itself and its ability to cure all ills.

With that she calms down some, and upon his question conducts a more thorough diagnostic. Then she's able to confirm that she is fine, apart from the initial shock she isn't experiencing any pain or malfunctions. She follows this up with a general sense of inquiry - what now?

[alwaysalright]

He shares his relief at her not having any other issues, and gives the console a pat. Aside from them hurting when the other one is in pain, it would be a distraction from the most baffling issue.

He doesn't reply at once, considering the matter. He hops down the stairs to the hatstand and digs into his coat pockets, locating his phone after a few moments. All scrambled. Useless. The TARDIS would probably be able to contact someone still, but it's not much help if they can't communicate with people at the other end.

No, better to dive into it than sit in here where he can't do much good. He communicates this, it coming across mostly as restlessness and an itch to investigate, along with the desire for her company. What with the Doctor not being able to talk - which is probably one of his least favourite things - and their difficulty connecting properly over distances, he doesn't want to leave her here.

[theoldgirl]

His desire to go out and investigate doesn't come as a surprise, but his request for her company is unexpected. She still hasn't really gotten used to being able to join him on his 'adventures', especially since she can't do that in her own universe, not being allowed to affect events there. But it's a good thought; she'll feel a lot better staying in some form of contact with him, and the presence of her physical body should help her focus and strengthen their telepathic bond.

So she conveys her agreement, and a minute later her humanoid form enters the console room, her expression tight with concern. She joins him by the door and looks up at him expectantly.