All I Want For Christmas... - open to im_dead_ur_mad

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS shudders and groans disapprovingly as she rushes through the time vortex. This isn't the smooth trip she had planned when the Doctor, exhausted from an adventure gone too wrong for comfort, had set her to roam freely in the vortex so he could take one of his infrequent but deep slumbers. She'd found herself a nice calm current to float

Comments

[im_dead_ur_mad]

This in mind, the console receives one final pat before he checks his pockets and sets out for this strange wonderland

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS, being of a very clever and very complex mind, goes through several reactions in hardly more than a few seconds. First, alarm at the sudden change in conditions - and they had changed rather drastically, as both her sensors and her eyes inform her that she is now engulfed in a force field with hills and vegetation that were definitely not there when she'd arrived - and at the unexpected appearance of a younger Doctor.

Second, in quick pursuit of a reason for this disconcerting turn of events, the detection of a rudimentary intelligence, a semi-sentience that had also not been there before (or rather, not discernible), now focused on her and attempting to reach out to her in an almost playful manner.

Third, to the TARDIS' great relief, the understanding that the sentience is friendly, child-like even, and haboring nothing but an eagerness to please; followed by the equally comforting realization that this isn't quite her own timeline, which means interaction with the Doctor in the distance should pose no threat of

[im_dead_ur_mad]

Step. Stop. Double take.

"...Nyssa?"

That puts him at a loss for just a moment, before he gives the area a furtive glance. Did this... thing just up and pluck him out of some other sequence? How? And why? No. No, wait, it couldn't have. She knows who he is, and he doesn't remember running into himself with Nyssa in tow, not with this face. And Nyssa had never been terribly fond of such a prim state of dress, once she'd learned she didn't have to keep being the princess.

You clever thing, he thinks at the force field, still wondering how it managed to pluck up bits from a memory he hadn't even addressed. He really ought to be righteously angry, or even exceedingly suspicious, but... if he takes anything from it, there's a distinct lack of hostile intent--rather a distaste for the concept of hostility, it seems. But to invade his memories like that simply won't do. All right, I'll play along with this one, but stay out of here. There are boundaries you'd do best not to cross.Even as he sets his terms, he's stepping

[theoldgirl]

Aaaand she has him hooked, as humans would say. Most incarnations sense who she really is sooner rather than later, but that doesn't stop her from having a little fun in the meantime. Though she isn't very good at lying, foreign a concept as it is to a being who enters minds as a matter of fact, so she focuses on the least incriminating of his questions and responds with the smallest of smirks

[im_dead_ur_mad]

That stops him short, and for a split second, he actually gawks. First at the snow tumbling into the folds of his cravat and waistcoat, and then at the Nyssa construct. The expression he soon adopts, however, is nowhere near 'how dare you', being far too amused even to be mistaken for it.

"Is that the best you can do?" he taunts, stooping to gather more snow. "Really, Nyssa, I could have sworn I'd taught you to bowl."

Something is still vaguely off, though. Constructs shouldn't give such a familiar empathic vibe; usually, they don't give one at all. And this one doesn't feel quite like Nyssa's. For a moment, his eyes lock onto the TARDIS a short distance behind her, studying the structure. But what he feels should be from his own, shouldn't it? Which would make this one a construct as well... but why the warmth, so close? And why Nyssa before him, rather than Charley, or even C'rizz? What exactly is this field doing with his memories, and how deeply has it reached

[theoldgirl]

His focus on her real form doesn't escape her notice, and she nearly nods encouragingly. She has always enjoyed keeping the Doctor on his toes, be it by taking him somewhere unexpected or by changing her inner structures. He'll solve this mystery quickly enough, but his confusion as he does so is quite amusing.

"What do you mean, who am I?" Of course she heard him. Though her response lacks the confusion or concern one would expect in such a question; instead her tone is almost approving, nudging his thought process on. With a glance at the snow in his hands, she adds teasingly, "You will catch your death in this."

[im_dead_ur_mad]

"Of course I won't. Time Lord," he reminds her absently, his mind working. The impression is no illusion; it can't be. Even woodwives are hollow behind their faces. There should be no familiarity beyond a simple façade, and yet there is... even that gentle chiding, the tone of 'You know who I am, you silly Doctor', is something he should know--needs to know.

How I wish this were C'rizz instead, he tries experimentally. She remains Nyssa, and what's more, the constructing presence balks. Of course. C'rizz isn't from this universe... but Charley is, and Nyssa doesn't become Charley, either. In fact, she seems to simply deflect the presence, or more, to absorb its intent rather than shaping it as he does. Observing it, perhaps, with a pristine emotional foundation devoid of wishful thinking. And the TARDIS, serene and... extensive, apparently. In fact, he can't seem to differentiate the two of them

[theoldgirl]

She can tell he is testing the entity, probably trying to see if its influence extends to her appearance, but it only results in the intelligence turning to her in something like petulance, as though it was her fault that he was being so silly. She gives it a tolerant mental pat and folds her hands behind her back, patiently listening to the Doctor's verbal train of thought. At the mention of Kamelion she has to stop herself from huffing in disdain; nothing but trouble that machine was and she'll thank him not to associate her with it.

The Doctor's scrutiny is met with an amused smile, challenging his wits, though of course she has no doubt in them. "Ah, you wish to play '20 Questions'? Although I would hope you do not require nearly that many to guess who I am. Yes," she answers his last question, "I am from another timeline."