Allowing changes that we could not have foreseen [Open to the TARDIS]

[whofrownedthisface]

With his trip to the park having turned out more fruitful than originally envisioned, the Doctor hurries back to the TARDIS, though still with next to no idea what he's up against. Something, that's for sure. Not a riftugee (so much cleverer than riftie, but it just won't catch on somehow), and it doesn't seem like there's any manifestations to investigate on site in the park. But clearly something is up. At least the rift isn't sucking in monsters from who knows where or messing with the park's timescape. And if Daine's affliction is the only trouble, well. Just being honest. Not really the crisis he got out of bed for. Metaphorically speaking.

Upon returning to the TARDIS he sets to with his usual flurry of console activity, calling up maps full of squiggly concentric lines, popping in all the readings he'd gathered, reading about strange weather phenomena involving frogs. Just an oddity to resolve, hopefully in time for lunch (why not cucumber sandwiches?), guaranteed to lift his spirits and maybe even provide new insight into the rift.

Comments

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS isn't taking things quite as lightly as the Doctor, even though this sort of increase in generalized rift activity is distressingly common and he'd set up protocols for her to run through to gather all the relevant data she could, giving her something to do. But she still can't help being on edge, being hyper-aware of the rift's distortions and small-scale energy spikes and unpredictable effects. It certainly doesn't help that one of those spikes occurs right on top of him as he is on his way back to her, though seemingly leaving him unscathed, and if her doors shut behind him a little too eagerly, well, he's clearly too busy to notice. At least someone is enjoying himself.

So she keeps her dread to herself, knowing that the distracting rift activity is good for him if not for her, and not having anything specific to warn him about. That is, until an entire ripple runs through her like an earthquake, a sharp jolt to her systems and then an eerie feeling of confusion, a change she can't identify or isolate, a foreign weight on her mind, and if she were in flight she'd buck and dance and jump time tracks to get it off. She isn't, but the console alights in a blaze of warning lights nonetheless, blinking rapid panic. The weather report on the screen turns garbled, is superseded by text in the layout of a warning, then an error report, flashing at the Doctor like a plea for help, all gibberish.

[whofrownedthisface]

Like a plea for help? It clearly is. But that's all that's clear about it. Something has gone massively awry, that much is obvious, but the information on the display...isn't. Why isn't it? Similarly, the lights are beaming in nonsensical combinations, blinking and shifting rapidly like an agitated Christmas tree and refusing to stabilise into anything intelligible. "No, no, no," like refuting a winning argument, frustration over dismay. "What is this?" he gestures expansively at the general proliferation of uninformative happenings on the console. "Not anything, is what." He fiddles with buttons and controls, but none of the changes seem to be related to anything he's doing, even moreso than usual, and he leaves off with a tetchy sound. "What are you trying to tell me?" he says, more sympathetically now the initial shock is wearing away. Clearly something has got the TARDIS in something of a state, but this won't get them anywhere.

[theoldgirl]

As frightened as the TARDIS is by this unexplained, undefined interference or manipulation of her systems, she does still have the wherewithal to fully expect him to deal with it quickly and rationally. So it is perhaps even more of a shock when his command inputs appear to be complete nonsense, no reason to them. There has always been a degree of trial and error to his way of piloting her, but informed trial, not utter chaos. What is he doing? What is happening to them? Her initial alarm solidifies into real fear now, charging the atmosphere and dimming the lighting.

Being far more focused on his manual and psychic input, it takes another moment for her to realize that his speech has become just as unintelligible, another jarring anomaly; the surprise and frustration and concern in his mind are familiar and comforting, the pitch of his voice and the sequence of sounds correct, but all of it together refuses to form anything recognizable. Before this can terrify her further, though, she remembers the same thing happening a few months ago, and with that she stills, all the alarms and futile messages ceasing at once. The rift has done this before, and it was disconcerting in the extreme, but also temporary. She tries to find comfort in this previous experience, the fact that it isn't a completely unknown event, though the lingering shock and her intense distrust of any rift anomaly aren't making it easy. And she has almost no way of communicating this to the Doctor, she now knows. All she can do is to convey a vague sense of her fear being reined in, some of the tension draining, and a miserable sort of recognition. She then tries to communicate rift, the overarching constant disturbance confining them, but he has probably been able to conclude that much on his own.