#BEATRYS BEAUMONT / verse / dw.

[stormlit]

seriouslyaliens​ / the doctor.

        the doctor’s mind is assailed with emotions first; all the fear and confusion of a little girl caught up in a desperately dangerous situation. it’s a chaotic mix of feeling and sensation outside bea’s control. monsters, the girl signs, and the doctor’s mouth sets into a hard line. 

        what comes next seems more intentional, a series of images filtered through the terrified eyes of a child. the doctor does their best to parse through it for any little detail that might help. “i know that creature. that’s a krillitane. but what’s it doing here?” they straighten up, taking a few pacing steps away from bea, talking to themself. “attacking a space station, that’s not their m.o. so what was it after?” 

        they shake their head, then turn back to bea. “listen, i’ve got to find the control center of this station. now, you can stay here and hide, or you can come along with me. i’ll keep you safe, i promise.” 

        what she wants to do, more than anything, is hide away for the rest of her life never coming out again. but this entire station isn’t safe. she has nobody she can trust save this one person who seems...nice enough, and didn’t freak out at receiving a bunch of images in their head, this one person who wants to try and stop the danger. bea has nowhere to go, and nobody to be with. it would be easy to hide. it would be miserable.

        she is not brave, but she takes a shaky breath and sheathes her knife, swapping her communication notebook for another now she has other methods to talk. for a moment, she rocks back and forth on her feet, fiddling with the tassel on her backpack’s strap, assessing the doctor’s size. then she shrugs; probably small enough. shortcut, she signs, moving back down the corridor to prise open a vent in the wall. looking back over her shoulder, she adds, safer.

[stormlit]

seriouslyaliens​ / a doctor.

       “ah!” the doctor nods, then goes on to sign along with their speech: “pleased to meet you, bea. i know you’re scared right now, but i’m gonna figure out what’s going on and put a stop to it. okay?” they take a beat to read the message in bea’s book. no touching. they can do that. “can you tell me what you saw happen here, bea?” 

        the first answer this doctor gets isn’t words, but a wave of fear and heartbreak emanating out from bea like a wave; she’s not even aware she’s doing it, but they ask what happened and bea can’t even think for the rush of memories. she manages to sign monsters, but she can’t...words don’t come. they can’t come, stuck somewhere in the freeze state of her head. 

        it’s images that she shares mentally, flittering between memories, only half-intentionally; an invasion, a slaughter, a man shoving a little girl into a panel in the wall, and her watching through a vent as he’s killed, unable to do anything but retreat further...and then the quiet of after. the hiding. the present again. now.

[stormlit]

        i’m not gonna hurt you; that’s what they all say, isn’t it? yeah, this person, this doctor, doesn’t look like they’d hurt her, but bea knows as well as anyone that appearances can be deceiving. that a lack of weapon doesn’t mean harm can’t be caused. that she’s not in danger. they step forward, and beatrys holds the knife up higher, chewing on the ends of her hair.

        doctor. doctors help. don’t they? knife still held out, she signs, bea, with her free hand, then pulls a notebook out of her overalls’ pocket. not everyone knows sign. she doesn’t know every sign, either. it’s awkward to flip the pages with one hand, but she knows where to find the right page, and holds it up in front of her; carefully written in her best handwriting is, my name is beatrys. bea. underneath that: please don’t touch me.

@stormlit​​:  ❰❰ THREAT ❱❱ sender holds a weapon up to receiver as a threat   (bea, it’s a dagger and she’s Afraid)

       “All right, easy now.” The Doctor stops their approach when they see the little dagger the girl is brandishing out in front of her. They know a frightened child when they see one. “I’m not gonna hurt you, see?” They take a moment to hold open their coat, doing a little spin in place to display they’re unarmed. Then they stop, take a careful step closer, and crouch down to the girl’s level. “I’m the Doctor. Can you tell me your name?”