Kara doesn't actually appear random places. She just... kinda seems like she does sometimes.
What actually happens is that she walks up, slowly, a few steps at a time. It's hard to tell whether it's reminiscent of a stalking cat, or just a cat who's cautious and curious at the same time. And then, abruptly, she's sitting on the arm of the chair Donna's curled up in, legs crossed, watching her.
"It's all a bit dark, isn't it? You'd be much better off looking back."
Donna tugs herself back to the present and smiles tightly at Kara. "Lookin' back gets pretty dark too, sweetheart. Civilizations crumblin' and planets burnin'."
Kara grins a little. "There always are. Don't look so far back. That's not good for you either." She purses her lips, looking a little distant, and then manages to shake herself out of it, gaze clearing a little as she looks at Donna.
"You're Donna. I know you." To be fair, she knows all the basement residents, because she's gotten used to making their minds a sort of barrier for her own, but the Time Lords in particular are interesting to watch. Not the Vesmier - she stays away from him, because she'd be noticed - but the Doctor and Donna... "Noble lady of time. 's funny you don't have a watch."
Her voice has dropped now into its old Irish lilt, so much so that there's hardly a trace of her usual almost-American accent. Certain people do that to her.
Donna smiles wryly. Ah, yes, another psychic. She knows there's a few around, so here's a chance to meet one.
"Well, I hope everything you know is good. Otherwise I'll feel more'n a bit mortified." Because, y'know, she really cares so much what everyone else thinks of her.
Doc's in a mood for a good book, and thus is in the common room searching the shelves. He was hoping to find something by Jules Verne -- preferrably 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, that's his favorite.
However, he's distracted from his search by the sight of the lady in the chair looking deeply thoughtful. Doc regards her for a moment, wondering if it would be impolite to interrupt. Just something about her expression intrigues him. Not to mention that -- he has to admit to himself -- she looks rather -- cute?
He shakes his head and walks over. "You seem worried," he says, to start things off.
Doc frowns, puzzled, at that first cryptic sentence. Too many possibilities? "I assume this has something to do with what's happened down here recently," he says with a small shrug. "It's all a very complicated mess, isn't it?" Doc doesn't know many of the people involved in the Romanaggedon, but even he can see it's one hell of a disaster.
"It happens," he replies, smiling back. She's got a nice smile. . . .
The Vesmier doesn't do terribly well without some purpose. Not that he goes stir-crazy and starts thinking of ways to tear down the house, or anything, but he seems to end up reduced to wander the halls, looking for anyone or anything who needs assistance. Given that the vast majority of his mental discipline is geared toward coping with how much he personally dislikes the Senate, it seems more than slightly odd that he'd wish so much he was back there. But at least there, he had a role.
Still. The human-turned-Time-Lord is one he's been keeping vague tabs on at the edge of his mind, because that's neither a fast nor an easy adjustment. and it's not exactly hard to tell when she's wandering off in other times.
He's taken a leisurely stroll over and is now standing not too far away, reaching out a mental hand to brush her mind. It's more an offer than a gesture: If you would like to come back from there....
It would take Donna a bit longer to come back on her own, following her uncertain path back to the now and finding her anchor point. She's not going to refuse an offer like that.
I suppose I would, yeah, she replies. But she's not going to actually take his hand, as it were - stubborn, she is. She just follows him back, a lot quicker than her own little line back to now.
"Well. That was quicker than usual," she says with a smile. "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome," the Vesmier has. His arms are crossed, hands on opposite wrists within his sleeves. It looks and feels far more comfortable when he's in his Senatorial robes. "There's an entire college of the Academy on Gallifrey dedicated to teaching one how to navigate and interpret the field of potentialities," he points out. "It's a difficult study to master, even for Time Lords."
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What actually happens is that she walks up, slowly, a few steps at a time. It's hard to tell whether it's reminiscent of a stalking cat, or just a cat who's cautious and curious at the same time. And then, abruptly, she's sitting on the arm of the chair Donna's curled up in, legs crossed, watching her.
"It's all a bit dark, isn't it? You'd be much better off looking back."
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She sits up a little though. "Hallo, then."
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"You're Donna. I know you." To be fair, she knows all the basement residents, because she's gotten used to making their minds a sort of barrier for her own, but the Time Lords in particular are interesting to watch. Not the Vesmier - she stays away from him, because she'd be noticed - but the Doctor and Donna... "Noble lady of time. 's funny you don't have a watch."
Her voice has dropped now into its old Irish lilt, so much so that there's hardly a trace of her usual almost-American accent. Certain people do that to her.
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"Well, I hope everything you know is good. Otherwise I'll feel more'n a bit mortified." Because, y'know, she really cares so much what everyone else thinks of her.
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However, he's distracted from his search by the sight of the lady in the chair looking deeply thoughtful. Doc regards her for a moment, wondering if it would be impolite to interrupt. Just something about her expression intrigues him. Not to mention that -- he has to admit to himself -- she looks rather -- cute?
He shakes his head and walks over. "You seem worried," he says, to start things off.
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She sighs a bit and shakes her head, smiling a little at him. "Sorry. I'm... a bit... out of it."
That's one way of putting it.
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"It happens," he replies, smiling back. She's got a nice smile. . . .
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She wasn't directly involved in Romangnarok, but she has a friend or two who were. Gwen, for one. And... well, she knows this isn't going to end well.
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Still. The human-turned-Time-Lord is one he's been keeping vague tabs on at the edge of his mind, because that's neither a fast nor an easy adjustment. and it's not exactly hard to tell when she's wandering off in other times.
He's taken a leisurely stroll over and is now standing not too far away, reaching out a mental hand to brush her mind. It's more an offer than a gesture: If you would like to come back from there....
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I suppose I would, yeah, she replies. But she's not going to actually take his hand, as it were - stubborn, she is. She just follows him back, a lot quicker than her own little line back to now.
"Well. That was quicker than usual," she says with a smile. "Thank you."
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That is, of course, is rather an understatement. "Sorry. I'm probably not supposed to be doing that, right?"
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