|
|
Post by Clara Oswin Oswald on Jan 26, 2013 1:48:39 GMT -5
A flip of the switch (well, alright, several switches, but still) was all it had taken for Clara and the Doctor to suddenly be off, leaving New York City far behind and hurtling through time and space faster than she could ever believe. The loneliness and anxiety of the past few days, which had mostly been spent wandering aimlessly around the city in an attempt to get her bearings, was evaporating quickly and for the first time in days, Clara laughed as she clung to the console. The TARDIS, different from the one the other Doctor had showed her, but no less wonderful, shook and rattled violently, sparks flying briefly from some unknown point of origin. But, rather than terrifying, all of this was thrilling.
And, just like that, it was over. The TARDIS landed with a jolt, causing Clara to lose her grip and topple over onto the floor. For a brief moment, she simply laid there, staring up at the high ceiling about her. And then, after letting out a quiet, breathy laugh, she was on her feet, snatching up her shawl from where it had fallen and looking over to see if the Doctor had either fallen as she had or was waiting for her to be ready. Clara's gaze turned towards the door and a brief thrill of excitement rose within her. Outside those doors was a whole world she'd never seen before, some different time or place that was just waiting to be explored. Looking back to the Doctor, Clara grinned, unable to stop herself from grabbing his wrist and taking off towards the doors at a run. "Come on!"
The air that hit her face as Clara threw the doors open was salty and damp, and chilly enough to make her drop the Doctor's hand to tie her shawl around her shoulders. After a moment's look 'round, Clara turned back to the Doctor, folding her arms and scowling slightly. "All of time and space, and you took me to a swamp?" Clearly, someone was not impressed by either the Doctor's decision or the TARDIS'. However, her expression changed after a moment as, over his shoulder, Clara caught the glimpse of something in the distance. Stepping sideways to look around, she squinted slightly. That...looked like a house. Funny, who would want to build a house all the way out here in a swamp?
Picking up her skirts to avoid getting them wet on the damp ground, Clara moved forward a few steps to get a slightly better look. "Doesn't really seem like the best place for a house," she mused, half to the Doctor and half to herself. A grin crossed her features. "Definitely warrants a bit of investigation, yeah?" A creepy old house in the middle of a swamp? Sounded like something out of the horror novels she had read voraciously back in London. A ghost-story come to life, and if being with the Doctor meant one thing, it meant that it was doubtful that the house in the distance was anything but normal. Which, luckily enough, was just what bother of them were looking for.
|
|
|
|
Post by profnine on Jan 26, 2013 3:43:13 GMT -5
_________________________________________  _________________________________________ Just look at her go! The Doctor could do nothing but stand there grinning from ear to ear, laughing with an enthusiasm that seemed youthful coming from someone as old as he was. He loved this feeling - he treasured it! That sense of... well, adventure! Today marked the start of a new journey, not just literally, but in a whole other sense for him and Clara Oswin Oswald. His new companion. He could remember nothing but confusion after first waking up here. Hardly surprising - from his perspective - it had been only a few moments since the 'death' of this side of himself. Rose had been gone, the stars weren't in the right places, and he couldn't find a matching pair of socks.
And then - Hurricane Clara. A governess plucked right out of Victorian times tugging at his arm, running around, always getting herself into trouble. Stepping through the doors, she gave him that look and some sass to accompany the gesture, complaining about his choice in destination. Not that any of it stopped him standing there with his arms wide, as if gesturing to the swamp in general, grinning like a right looney though! "Oh, but not just any old swamp Clara! We're standing underneath a space-time rift that stretches for ten miles in every direction, all originating from that spot right over there!" Wheeling around, the Doctor lifted his arm and pointed his finger...
...directly at somebody's house. He stood still and blinked, as if he expected blinking to make the unsettling image just go away. Oh well, it was worth a try. Even if it didn't work at all. Turning over to the governess already ankle-deep in mud and taking it like a trooper, he nodded over in the direction of their curious find. "Hey now. What do you think the chances of someone building a house on the exact, let me stress that point here, the exact spot where the rift is centralized are?" In his own head of course, the Doctor knew that it was far more than the cliche'd 'million-to-one' chance, the kind that happened without most people's noticing every single day. This was so rare he might have called it impossible. That is to say; if he hadn't seen anything like it once before!
"Oh, you bet we're going to investigate!" Dashing off towards the house, the Doctor left the sound of splashing in his wake as he leaped over large shallow pools of stagnant water, simply barging right through the middle of the ones he couldn't cross with fancy footwork. "The TARDIS came here to recharge! She needs to refuel herself every once in a while, and a rift like this one is perfect!" Explaining things at the top of his lungs while he ran, the wind howled past his face as he neared the front doorstep. Such an old and crooked house it was! With windows like eyes that felt as though they were always watching... haha, absolutely fantastic stuff! "A rift is a place where different parts of time and space come together. Sometimes something will manage to make it through... and that's where most ghost stories come from. Well, the real ones do, anyway."
Still keeping that note of eagerness present in his voice, he reached out without hesitation and tried the door. It wasn't even locked or anything. Pushing it open, he looked into the foyer which opened out into a wide staircase leading up several floors. It was a pretty big house then, suffices to say. But over on the mantlepiece just to the left of the entrance, there was a little oak-wood desk with a candle on it - a lit candle, at that. "Look at that," he called out, gesturing at it, "someone's home."
|
|
|
|
Post by Clara Oswin Oswald on Jan 26, 2013 20:41:38 GMT -5
Clara grinned. "Not very high, I'm guessing," she replied, following his gaze back to the house. The view of it from here wasn't very good, but she could make out that it was very large, definitely at least the size of the Latimer estate, if not larger. Clara was used to large houses, but those were in the city, or just outside it. There was no city in site here, only a large expanse of swamp and a long pathway in the distance, leading from what looked like a small town. She frowned slightly, tilting her head to the side. Whoever lived in the house must have been some kind of recluse, to live so far away from the rest of the town. Spooky old manor in the swamp, rumors would fly day and night. Though, Clara didn't get much of a chance to voice her thoughts, for the Doctor was off and running.
Picking up her skirts, she followed right after him and kept pace as they neared the house. Nothing like a bit of exploration to pass the time after all. The ground changed from mud to dirt as they neared the small patch of land that the house was built on and Clara slowed, finally getting a good view of the house. It was enormous and overgrown, as if it were part of the marsh itself, rising out of the ground to tower over both of them. Clearly, no one had been there for a very long time, for both the grounds and the house itself were in disrepair, weathered and dilapidated. "Well," Clara remarked as they continued up to the door, "if there was any place for a ghost story, I'd imagine this would be it."
The door creaked open, revealing an large foyer with a fireplace, a long, wooden table and a staircase up to the next floor of the house, which was lined with portraits. Two large, black chandeliers hung over their heads, but Clara's gaze was drawn to the flickering candle on the desk in the corner of the room. She wandered towards the paintings on the staircase, moving to brush a cobweb or two off of one, but only managed to get a cloud of dust in her face, causing her to cough. "Not very big on housekeeping, are they?" she replied, waving the dust away from her face and taking a closer look at the portrait she'd been trying to get a better look at. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here for years, I can't imagine why someone would want to live here."
"Unless," Clara turned, facing the Doctor with a faint , slightly nervous grin. "they're not really living at all." Which was entirely possible, if the rifts he was talking about were what ghost stories came from. Besides, with the Doctor, anything at all was possible, or at least, it seemed that way to Clara. Invisible staircases, boxes that weren't what they appeared to be in terms of size. Who was to stay they shouldn't run into a ghost or two on their travels? The prospect was both thrilling and a little frightening, but Clara wasn't about to let something like a ghost scare her away. After all, she'd always wanted to jump into those stories of haunted houses and spirits of the dead. This was her chance.
|
|
|
|
Post by profnine on Jan 29, 2013 4:18:08 GMT -5
_________________________________________ _________________________________________ Turning over towards Clara, a smile was his response to her comment about paranormal activity. Some people might have called that morbid. But no, the prospect of the living dead was no deterrent to The Doctor's mood. "If they're not living at all, then why do they need candles?" Shrugging at his own remark, there was a very satisfying creak on the floorboards with every step he took. Yes, this house was an old one. Probably abandoned by the owners after they got spooked by a lost alien or a falling meteorite caught up in the rift. Too many possible rational explanations. All of them much too dull for his or Clara's liking!
"Let me tell you, I hope it is a ghost. Because if there isn't one we might have stumbled upon some old pensioner's quiet retreat." Standing over by the desk, The Doctor brushed over the faint outline of something rectangular, his fingertips feeling across the old cracked leather cover of a small book. It was pocket-sized. Which meant there was a pretty good chance it was either a notebook or a diary. Oh, he hoped it was a diary - they were more exciting.
Opening it at a random page, he frowned. And soon discovered that he might as well not have bothered. On every single page was scribbled the same frantic message by a shaky hand, blotted with ink and smudged badly. "The Darkness comes..." he read out loud, glancing over at Clara. "Well, that's a bit vague, isn't it?" Wrinkling he nose, he leafed through the pages again. Didn't anybody sign this? Ah yes- "Signed M. Roivas. In terrible, terrible handwriting, I might add." Sneezing as he inhaled a bit of dust from the pages, he frowned at the odd message, picking up the candlestick and carrying it over to the stairs with him.
Holding the flame closer to one of the portraits, he managed to make out a stern woman arching her brow at him. And the next one, an elderly gentleman with a similar bone structure to his face and the exact same expression of glaring disapproval. "A cheery bunch, this Roivas family." Snarking aside though, the mansion seemed to capture the same mood as the paintings. Like it wanted to keep it's secrets to itself, and disapproved of anyone being there.
Ascending to the very top, a pair of double doors that refused to open were next to capture his wandering attention. "Aha! Here you go, you can hang onto that as a souvenir," he said with a cheerful air as he passed the old book over to Clara, bringing out his trusty Sonic Screwdriver and pointing it triumphantly at the uncompromisng keyhole, "I'll handle this one!" With a faint whirring noise and a glimmer of blue light, The Doctor proudly listened until he heard the click of the lock sliding back, tucking the gadget away back within the pocket of his jacket and turning over to Clara with a bashful grin. "Sorry. I actually really love doing that!"
|
|
