#timeveiled

“my dear friend, i don’t complain. it’s just another scar.” 

@timeveiled | 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Quiet Wooshing filled the plaza of Belobog. The Rickety Police Box had that effect on the world, landing smoothly and quietly in the central plaza... or well... as smoothly as The TARDIS could land, anyway. It looked different, smaller. Distinctly older, more battered. The doors opened, and heeled boots stepped out, head poking itself out before wincing softly at the sunlight. She exhaled, resting her hands on her lapel as she exited. The door shut behind her, and she shushed it quietly before humming out a quiet chuckle. Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from it. Her lip curled quietly into a snarl, perpetual as always as she looked past the people and toward the buildings.

She wears ‎a black, denim waistcoat that was tightly buttoned over a tan turtleneck, with a large coat that dropped to the thighs hanging on her shoulders. The boots she wore were cut a few inches below the knee, heeled with laces and straps and whatnot. This woman wasn't abnormally tall or short, her height was rather average. Her wild, unkempt white hair was her most distinguishing feature, aside from her all-black outfit and icy blue eyes, of course. Quite suddenly, she fished into her waistcoat, pulling out a small travel-sized booklet titled, '130 Pawn Shops in the universe' and quietly flipped to the B section. One by one, she thumbed through the pages before she found what she was looking for. 

"Ahahm! There we are! Yes, yes." She was doing this all while her companions inside were resting from their travels. Even her poor old granddaughter Stella was exhausted from their escapades. Not her, however. No! Not her. She hummed quietly, tapping the address. "This is the right planet! Right solar system! Right time code! So it should be here." She mumbled aloud before sliding on a black fedora over her head, the ribbon of the fedora was a bright white. The hat itself was velvety, while the ribbon was silk. She walked quietly, book in her hand, down block after block... away from the square and by proxy, The Police Box.

Although, navigating this city was harder then it had seemed. She had eventually, actually, had to grab the local map. Eventually, frustration was setting beneath the elder's features, as the names of the shops had translated quite awkwardly within the TARDIS' translation circuit. This forced her to have to absentmindedly walk up to someone on the side of the street. She hadn't even looked up from the map, as she approached the closest person she could. "You there! Yes, yes... You!" She looked up, finally... her attention still drawn upon the map, and her guidebook. Her words dragged on quietly.

there was always something to worry about, although it was not always about their own personal well being, but rather the safety & personal wellbeing of those the witch cared about in their experience. gael sometimes wonders how many witches at the great assembly sincerely missed their presence... or were glad they were out of the picture for their mischievous acts when they were younger. were they truly safe now? the elder witch could send them over the to the knights to be banished or have their mind erased, however, that did not currently seem very probable.

their body leans back into the chair they found themself sitting on. gael still did not fully trust their host, but they could not help but be intrigued by the professor's way of thinking & reasoning. ❝ if you & your watchful eye knew i practice forbidden magic, why did you allow me to stay? aren't you aware of the risks, mister qifrey? ❞