Yes! It's another Doctor Who Crossover!It will also include my own character, Freyvarr. (to know more about her, you could read the first few chapters of my other story, ".She's Not In-between, Just Other.") All you really need to know about her is that she is a very beautiful and powerful vampire. This is set about 500 years after breaking dawnends. Time travelling, eh? Never know where you're gonna end up next... Oh yeah. And rated Teen, because Freyvarr is a dangerous catalyst for rating-worthy scenes...
Hope you enjoy! Please reveiw!
1. Confusion, Cleavage and Careful Consideration
Rating 0/5 Word Count 1431 Review this Chapter
“So,” cried the Doctor, jumping around the TARDIS console towards Rose, “Where today? Earth? 11th century – Oh! William the Conqueror! I mean the first one... not that blue guy from the Anraada system. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to meet the actual William the Conqueror?”
“Not really. Sounds like fun though.” Rose thought it was always best when he was like this, enthusiastic and buoyant.
The Doctor had just begun to plot the coordinates when the TARDIS suddenly lurched. Rose grabbed his arm, falling against him. Standing stock still despite the turbulence, he looked down at her with one quizzical eyebrow raised as she rearranged herself. “What was that?” she said.
“I don’t know. I think we just crashed landed ... but where?”
Both filled with the joy of adventure, they grinned at each other and the spoke simultaneously. “Only one way to find out!” They bounded to the TARDIS doors gleefully and pushed them open. The corridor they emerged into was blank and white with portholes that lined the extensive length of one wall. Beyond the glass of the portholes, the infinite whirls of space were visible, splattered haphazardly with stars and undiscovered adventures. “This is a guess,” began Rose, “But I don’t think we are in the 11th century.”
“You may be right.” He took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling as he sucked in the atmosphere. “I would say 25th century. Spaceship. Somewhere near Earth – satellite maybe? There is also a slight possibility that someone nearby has a bag of crisps.”
“Nearby?” She glanced along the metres of endless empty corridor.
“I was using the term loosely.”
At the end of a long walk, they seemed to reach a promising looking door. The Doctor tried it and it opened easily. Slightly disappointed at not being able to use his sonic screwdriver, he proceeded through the door to find...another corridor. This corridor, however, was not bleak, but instead the very model of opulent extravagance. It was filled with a multitude of examples of flamboyant furnishings and luxurious embellishments. It was also a relief in being more convenient in the way of doors, with one placed every few metres or so. These doors were carved with a bizarre mixture of intricate classical scenes and unfamiliar transcripts and designs. Through the nearest they entered a large hall, church-like with pillars that extending far above them to a domed roof that was barely visible.
The hall was swarming with people, all humanoid and mostly human, all looking either rich, important or bored, though in rare cases the more intelligent of the pack managed all three expressions at once. Amongst them though, stood a Goddess. Perhaps alone in the room as having a face unmarred by vanity, she was also distinguished by owning the only face which may reasonably warrant it. It was not that she had features that were uncommonly perfect in the manner of magazine models; it was rather that there seemed to be an extraordinary excellence in her manner of moving, so decided and elegant, and an almost tangible brilliance that radiated from her smile. Her whole form was graceful and pleasing, her limbs long and slender without fault or ungainliness, her neck long and set perfectly on her shoulders, her hands small and flawlessly moulded. This effect was enhanced by the dress that she wore, floor length and flowing, it consisted of a skirt of silver that glittered subtly in the light, moving up to only a jewelling effect to cover her upper half, yet this part of her body was exposed tantalisingly little and it could not be said where the transition from skirt to jewelling was made. The dress dropped away vastly behind however, the material merely resting below the small of her back, revealing the sumptuous curve of her sinuous body. Her hair was like gold, the brilliant bright gold of a new star and full of yielding tresses and curls that plummeted about each other in their eagerness to reach her hips, at which point most of them diminished. Each time she moved, this glossy mane would move with her, just enough falling over her shoulder that she would have to flick it back, but not enough for it to become cumbersome.
Like each person in the room, the Doctor and Rose found themselves magnetised to her. The fusty souls of the rich and famous were transformed into pure benevolent spirits in her presence and they each wanted a share of her appreciation. From closer, her beauty became even more apparent. Her skin was an unblemished milky tone, wholly supple, irresistibly silky and visibly soft. Her eyes were colourless. This is not to suggest that they had no colour, on the contrary, they were so full of indescribable hues that they could not be fairly called any one colour. Most prominent was a piercing scarlet, but there were also softer earthy ambers, pure heartfelt glimmers, subtle undertones of hidden emotion and, only perceptible to those such as the Doctor and Rose who had known it before, a slight hint of something more, as if the very essence of time and space had made a home within her beautiful being. The Doctor was entranced, captivated.
“Who is she?” whispered Rose in hushed awe.
“She is... beautiful. I think though that she has one main failing.”
“She makes everything else look ugly.”
“But what is her name?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“I think I might do! She seems so familiar…Its one of those things. You know, like when you know you know and you can almost feel it but you can’t quite remember.”
“I thought only us mere mortals had that feeling,” Rose replied playfully.
Their conversation continued along this tangent for some time before they realised that something miraculous was going to happen. The Goddess was going to sing.
The voice of an angel. Or a Goddess? Yes. The Goddess had a divine voice. Pure in tone, strong in volume, perfect as a whole with a unique inspirational quality. Her elegance was even more improved from her natural position during her song. To ask if she had done the song justice would have been unfair. It would be better to ask if it had done her justice. The Doctor couldn’t help but watch her every movement and analyse every way that the Goddess acted and spoke and sung and looked. He could not fail to notice when the Goddess looked their way — his way — and smiled. The Goddess smiled. At him. It was a euphoric moment. Not only this, but after finishing her song, she walked towards them — him (good God! The Goddess was walking straight at him!) — and smiled sweetly once more. The Doctor was only slightly disappointment when she addressed Rose first, but he was more than slightly surprised when she addressed Rose thus:
“Rose! How old are you now?”
His surprise was on several accounts — the first being that she seemed to know Rose’s name, the second that she had not introduced herself before launching into this question, the last being that the question itself was one totally unexpected. Not finding words to utter his confusion and surprise, most especially in the presence of the Goddess, the Doctor satisfied himself with a strange questioning grunt. The Goddess gave him a look as if he had just dribbled and seemed rather amused. At this point, the Doctor realised that he had just dribbled. In this time, Rose had compiled her senses enough to answer “20” to the Goddess’ question.
“Oh right. Yes I had deduced that by now.”
Rose merely looked blank and the Doctor, though now dribble free, was still incapable of coherent sentences. The Goddess looked disappointed. “Okay. That’s fine. I guess. I just thought . . . oh well.” Meandering aimlessly away, she shortly headed for the door through which he Doctor and Rose had entered, unnoticed by all except the Doctor. Rose too had drifted away to speak to some of the more friendly looking people in the room. After a long process of thought analysing the pros and cons of following the Goddess, the Doctor came to the following conclusions.
Goddess very pretty.
Alone with Goddess.
Dribble very embarrassing.
Inability to speak also very embarrassing.
Staring at cleavage of Goddess — inevitable.
Staring at cleavage of Goddess — embarrassing.
He then thought a minute longer.
Staring at cleavage of Goddess — nice.
This seemed to decide the matter.
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