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 The weather report on the screen turns garbled, is superseded by text in the layout of a warning, then an error report, flashing at the Doctor like a plea for help, all gibberish.