In the town where the black sun doesn't set, everyone is silent, working as if magical....
The TARDIS is in the Rift room. Panicking.
Unlike most of her moods, this one should be easily discernible to anyone walking by: she's thrashing mentally, throwing any part of her will she can at the Rift, causing it to spark and hiss and shudder. She's throwing herself into it, too, the little blue-box projection ramming into the event horizon and rippling with interference, until she skirts the edge of vanishing entirely.
She's scared. And lost, and confused, and she wants to go home. The Rift is not complying.
Unlike most of her moods, this one should be easily discernible to anyone walking by: she's thrashing mentally, throwing any part of her will she can at the Rift, causing it to spark and hiss and shudder. She's throwing herself into it, too, the little blue-box projection ramming into the event horizon and rippling with interference, until she skirts the edge of vanishing entirely.
She's scared. And lost, and confused, and she wants to go home. The Rift is not complying.