YOUR WHOLE BODY DOING WHAT BIRDS DO BEFORE FLIGHT.

“ – I don’t think I would answer you, if you did.” Still a hint of the former smile resting on his lips, he answered her question briefly with amusement tinting his words. TIME LORD. The title was pretentious and while he had used it to his advantage quite a few times, he didn’t necessarily see himself as superior to most humans. Not in this way. Some differences, of course, couldn’t be ignored, but where he held strengths, there were also weaknesses – which had always been balanced out by his companions. For example, the fact that he liked to drift off with his thoughts.

Her question did similar; it brought him back to the topic they had been talking about, while his thoughts had wandered back to the things he was running from. His people. Partially.

Briefly letting his gaze wander to the traffic light they had stopped at, he considered his answer carefully – sometimes he wouldn’t have done for everyone, as his usually answer would have been a plain and simple NO.

She has reached the decision of a classic bad judge of character, but she doesn't know it yet.

"Let me guess. Is the TARDIS one of those privileges?"

The Doctor's pause says as much as the brief explanation. Those comments a second ago about arrogance, about deeming other species unfit for time travel. About building their physiology around it. Hierarchy. Segregation. Eugenics.

"Sounds familiar. People are people... are people." She shrugs. "The universe over, apparently."

There's a small, unhappy silence. The light changes.

jester's happy to accompany the book nerds to the stores, always managing to find something interesting enough by the time caleb and alice are done.

and she looked good then, too!

Problem is, no phone booths to duck into for a private quick-change. Superman makes it look so easy.

Hmm.

"You sound like you consider yourself to be too much."

"I disagree."

But that's too heavy for friendly dinner chat. So:

"I will be eating all of this."

"Great," she says, fervently and sincerely. "Hope you like jollof rice."

Even as she's still smiling, her expression does something quizzical, eyes narrowing, brows furrowed. It's the scarab she's thinking of.

"Is there a glass ceiling for superpowers?"

"fair enough."

they understood learning about varying abilities under uncomfortable and unpleasant circumstances. it had been crucial to how they had been spending a lot of the time they had before leaving earth.

but for right now, they are only concerned for alice, even if she was technically used to doing such a thing. they might not be scared of her,not really - but for her, concerned.. well- they will always be concerned about someone they are traveling with in such a way.

"...never wanting to have to but being ready to.. that's very real." there's a melancholic sigh and a jolt of larger energy running through them - as if they are managing something that spill out if they aren't careful.

a few breathes to contain themself once again.

they notice the additional arms, still impressed by the usefulness despite the process it comes with.

and that might not even be true. maybe they aren't struggling, and alice is reading into their little pauses as uncertainty in this new environment. when she was traveling on her own, she rarely paused to catch her breath, let alone prepare for danger. but now, with zora with her... having come out of the bleed so far from any intergalactic crossroads feels like a failure of care, not just of herself.

"let's hope we won't need them this time, either."

she wipes her forearm, where the underside of the armor is flexible like rubber, across her sweaty forehead and curling baby hairs. the limb moves like her natural-born limbs. she twists her wrists and flexes the new fingers experimentally.

It was too late– Alice had already disappeared around a bend in the cave. “How is this not about you?” Nat yelled after her. “What am I lying about?!”

The echoes of Alice’s footsteps died out, leaving Nat alone in stuffy, damp, cave-y silence. Nat waited but, when he didn’t hear her returning, he made a huffing, irritated sound and sped up cutting himself down. Under his breath, punctuated by hacks with his knife, he muttered, “You’re the one… lying… being insane right now…” He was being nice! He was being so reasonable and considerate! What was her problem? She was the one who’d lied and–

“Ah!”

In his rush, Nat lost his grip on his dagger. It slipped and sliced deep into his palm. The sharp, bright sting of pain sparked his simmering annoyance into full on, pissed off anger. “Are you fucking–” Finally, Nat kicked one leg free. “--kidding me? Fuck!” And then the other. He was fucking covering in fucking cobwebs. His– previously very nice!-- boots and pants and coat were probably ruined, gummed up permanently with the stuff. He didn’t bother trying to clean them off and didn’t bandage his cut either. He wanted Alice to see the damage to his clothes and his hand, wanted her to feel shitty for storming off.

She hears him. Hears the drip of blood on the cave floor before he even speaks. Could be hours later. Or no time at all. But even raising her head, she doesn't see him.

By then she's calm. Not okay, definitely not within a year of being okay. But more self-contained inside her protective composure. It's strangely effortless for her to note the insinuation of enchantment in his voice, consider it, and make the decision to allow it to take hold.

"You're messing around with warlock magic. Either you don't know it, or you're lying about it. Maybe you've lied to yourself so hard you can't pick apart the difference, but either way... the fact that you're doing it right now? To me?"

Her voice steels. "You want to know my fucking problem? That's it. I would have just told you."

Plop. Plop. More blood hitting dry leaves on the ground. There's nothing she can do about that. She can't use her magic for healing. She's tried.

"So you can stop telling yourself that the other students are all just jealous of your natural talent. No, shut up. You wanted me to talk. These are the signs of a pact, Nat. Like knows like."

As it's been said in a million lessons, in every theory of magic. Like knows like knows like.

For the first time since he emerged from the cave, Alice turns to look at him. For just a moment, her eyes reflect light like a cat's. Or a beetle's iridescent shell. Then the eerieness passes with a knot of her brow, and she's spreading her hands over her knees, opening them, trying to gesture toward understanding.