The Vesmier is still in the cloister room, working at the Thane diagram. The TARDIS will direct anyone who wants to see him right over.
For all that the Vesmier is just sitting there, examining his incomprehensible 3-D map of the psyche, his shadow is... considerably more talkative than normal, parts of the vast pool darkness speaking in turns, its voice soft but echoing in the large cloister.
We didn't anticipate that it would be so fast, one part says. Or nearly so sudden. In the end, we're surprised to say, t barely hurt.
It certainly hurt enough, another part grumbles. And the exact neurological effects aside, you're ignoring the significance. We should not have died in the first place.
Certain things have to be ignored for the benefit of a higher functionality, a third part chides.
The plan was sound, argues the second part, the origin of the voice shifting toward a pillar. If the Doctor hadn't run in like a relk and started tearing things apart–
We cannot blame the Doctor for being what he is, the first voice protests.
We can hold the Doctor to the exact standards to which we hold ourself, the third spot says, a bit louder, now.
So long as we keep in mind his circumstance and character, the second grumbles. Which alone is enough to invalidate any comparison.
He was doing what we failed to do, the first shadow mutters. And what we are continuing to fail to do.
There is that, the second acknowledges.
We will find a way, the third insists, and then there's a pause from all three. The shadow flows a bit, a pattern of darkness around the cloister room, and regards Suzie where she stands.
no subject
For all that the Vesmier is just sitting there, examining his incomprehensible 3-D map of the psyche, his shadow is... considerably more talkative than normal, parts of the vast pool darkness speaking in turns, its voice soft but echoing in the large cloister.
We didn't anticipate that it would be so fast, one part says. Or nearly so sudden. In the end, we're surprised to say, t barely hurt.
It certainly hurt enough, another part grumbles. And the exact neurological effects aside, you're ignoring the significance. We should not have died in the first place.
Certain things have to be ignored for the benefit of a higher functionality, a third part chides.
The plan was sound, argues the second part, the origin of the voice shifting toward a pillar. If the Doctor hadn't run in like a relk and started tearing things apart–
We cannot blame the Doctor for being what he is, the first voice protests.
We can hold the Doctor to the exact standards to which we hold ourself, the third spot says, a bit louder, now.
So long as we keep in mind his circumstance and character, the second grumbles. Which alone is enough to invalidate any comparison.
He was doing what we failed to do, the first shadow mutters. And what we are continuing to fail to do.
There is that, the second acknowledges.
We will find a way, the third insists, and then there's a pause from all three. The shadow flows a bit, a pattern of darkness around the cloister room, and regards Suzie where she stands.
Hello, the first bit says.