She licks against her gleaming teeth now, her dark eyes widening like onyx under water in the dark.
“I’ll pass, thanks!” the Doctor says cheerfully, “...but I brought one for you!”
He smiles at her brightly, his big eyes spongy green suns watching her movements.
Then a long metal object begins to grow out of his hand, which is, strangely, as white as the object itself.
The Pythia stops laughing.
Instead, she watches him, a bird with a snake.
Or is it a snake with a bird?
“Kaku Inko, Mehgudi...” the Doctor whispers, as the sonic probe which rose out of his hand begins to scream its waves in every direction.
The Pythia, though unencumbered by the frequency emitter of the Time Lord’s toy, looks down at him, a feeling of unsettling nature growing against her ribs like some malign fungus.
Abruptly he bursts into a splatter of white thick fluid that splashes around her feet and crawls to a stop around her bare toes. He’s on everything. On everything. The pest. Did he just commit suicide? –Him?-
She scrabbles out of the liquid, staring down at it... then her eyes slide half-closed at her stupidity and she gathers herself, rushing to the box she set on the Sepulchasm table.
The Rose Rings...