Fic: The Goddess of Light and Her Dark Consort 1/2
Title: The Goddess of Light and Her Dark Consort
Author: alex_caligari
Beta: jellybean728
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Puppets firmly attached to strings of BBC.
Summary: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. -Confucius
Author's Notes: This was originally part of the Round 2 prompt challenges over at storm_and_wolf, and was due in December. Oops. It is based on the quote above, and the lyrics are from "Les Fleur" by 4Hero.
They stood watching a planet die. It wasn’t destroyed by the unnatural expansion of its sun or torn apart by war; it had the quiet of slow decay.
They were side by side in the doorway, the light from the red giant turning her hair to molten gold and his jacket the colour of human blood. They said nothing, but eventually she reached out and took his hand. They remained that way until the planet was nothing but rock and history.
***
“Can we go somewhere...”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you were asking. What is it?”
“I was just wondering if we could go somewhere...pretty?”
“What about Woman Wept? That was pretty, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, of course it was, but I mean somewhere with people.”
“Like Paris?”
She laughed. “Least I wouldn’t have to worry about using the wrong verbs.”
“Or kissing strangers.”
There was a pause.
“But you weren’t thinking of Paris.”
“Not really. Once you’ve seen blue aliens, ordinary people become kind of, well, ordinary.”
“Bored with your planet already? For shame.”
“I want to see another sort of pretty. Earth has the Mona Lisa and the pyramids and Brad Pitt and whatever. What do other places have?”
The Doctor grinned. “Let’s find out.”
He twisted a knob, and Rose stepped out on to blue grass. The sky was a dusky pink, and leafless trees twisted out of the ground. “Where are we?” she asked.
“In the middle of a park, in the city of Falgin, on the planet Manx.”
“People?” She walked towards one of the trees. It was no higher than eye level, and was bright red.
“Of course there are people. Who do you think built the city?”
She didn’t take the bait. “You know what I mean. What are they like?”
He joined her beside the tree. “Technologically advanced by your standards, but returning to a more spiritual mindset. Sort of like your Romans; willing to accept science and religion.”
“So, not a bloodthirsty warrior race then?”
“Nope.”
“Shame. We’re about due for one.”
He looked at her and smiled, finally giving in to the teasing. “C’mon. Worlds to meet, people to greet, foods to eat.”
She smiled back and took his offered hand. “You’ve been waiting to say that all day, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer, only raised his eyebrows. They walked together, and Rose saw that they were in a small hollow surrounded by low hills. The higher they climbed, the more buildings she could see around them. They were tall and rounded, and made of smooth stone, with dark figures moving in between them.
“The Manx,” the Doctor said. “Easy name to remember, even in plural. One Manx, many Manx. All the little Manx from the planet Manx.”
“You just like it ‘cause it sounds like a cat.”
He grinned. “Wait till you see them.”
They walked down the hill towards the city. It looked like they were on the outskirts of a suburb; small black creatures ran down the street chasing a glowing ball of light while a larger creature watched carefully. It glanced their way, but returned its attention to the others.
“Right then,” Rose said, “where are the cultural centres ‘round here? Museums, art galleries, temples, that sort of thing?”
“A bit impatient, aren’t we? Don’t you want to enjoy the sights?” He led her down a wide street anyway, towards the larger buildings.
“The longer we hang around, the more likely it is that the bloodthirsty warrior race will find us and decide we’ve offended their emperor or something.”
He tilted his head in consideration. “True.”
More black creatures-Manx, she guessed-appeared on the streets as they walked. Rose tried not to stare. They were roughly five feet in height, humanoid in shape, and canine in resemblance. At first they all looked alike, but then she remembered that an old schoolmate, Nadira, had said the same thing about white people.
Once she accustomed herself to them, however, she found them quite intriguing. Long-legged and slender, they wore colourful tunics made of something silky yet thick, and went without shoes. They resembled hounds from back home, with long muzzles and soft ears. The Manx were much more expressive though, smiling and frowning as well as using their ears to show their mood. And they were, of course, tailless.
Several times Rose had to resist reaching out and petting one, telling herself that it would be incredibly rude and how would she feel if someone like the Doctor treated her as a pet? So she watched carefully and listened to the Doctor telling her about the city.
“What are all these?” she asked, pointing to a shape drawn on to a wall. It was a crude stick figure in a circle with rays all around it. Rose had seen several while they were walking. “It looks like that Da Vinci drawing.”
The Doctor peered at it. “Don’t know. It could be any number of things; resistance movement, gang symbol, simple graffiti.”
“But nothing’s simple with us, is it?”
“It’s not likely.” He glanced around. “Excuse me,” he said to a passing Manx, “my friend and I only just arrived, and we were wondering-”
“Oh, are you here for the festival?” it interrupted. The translated accent sounded high class. “We always get a few foreigners like yourselves, although not quite so...” it leaned around the Doctor to look at Rose, “interesting,” it finished.
“Why are we interesting?” Rose asked. She hadn’t missed the Doctor stiffening slightly.
The Manx didn’t answer, only continued to stare at Rose. “Very interesting,” it murmured.
“Where is this festival?” asked the Doctor, stepping in front of Rose.
The Manx blinked and focused back on the Doctor. “At the temple, of course. You can’t miss it.” It pointed to the left. “If you need any help finding your way...”
“We’ll be fine from here, thanks,” the Doctor smiled. He waved at the Manx and walked away with Rose’s hand in his.
There were several minutes of silence until Rose asked, “Why was it looking at me like that?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to find out what this ‘festival’ is all about.” The Doctor’s voice had taken on a familiar if frightening edge. No more exploring; now they had a mission.
The temple was a simple affair compared to the ones on Earth. It was long and wide, hardly higher than the surrounding buildings, with a large dome in the middle. A larger stick figure was picked out in blue and gold stone on the street in front of it. The crowds increased as they got closer, and everywhere Manx were watching Rose. One wearing a short red tunic started when it saw her and dropped to all fours to run towards the temple.
They finally managed to fight the crowds enough to approach an entrance, only to be stopped by a tall Manx in a green tunic. Its long ears had been docked so they were pointed like a Doberman’s, and were adorned with small gold rings. The one in red stood behind it. Even standing below it on the stairs, the Doctor was at eye level. At least intimidation through height wasn’t going to work.
“I’m the Doctor and this is Rose Tyler,” he said. “What can we do for you?”
The Manx in green smiled, revealing long white teeth. “Greetings, Doctor. I am the High Chancellor, power-balance to the Prime Minister. And to you, Rose Tyler,” it said, bowing to Rose, “I welcome you home. Follow me please.”
They glanced at each other. Rose shrugged; the Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Alright then,” he said. “Lead on.”
Rose kept close to the Doctor’s side, not yet scared but wary, as they moved through wide corridors into an anteroom.
“What is this festival that’s happening?” the Doctor asked conversationally.
“It is the Festival of the Golden Flower, the symbol of our most prominent goddess,” the High Chancellor replied. It gestured to a low sofa. “Please, sit. Your journey must have tired you.”
The Doctor sat easily, even though his knees were bent awkwardly high. “You have a name then, or just a title?”
The Manx smiled. “Of course I have a name, Doctor,” it said, laying emphasis on the last word. “I merely prefer to go by my title in public. I am Rodrix, of the Hanover pack.” It bowed once more.
“Please,” said Rose, “why are you interested in us? I mean, we’re honoured, but I don’t see what makes us so special.”
“Rose Tyler, the timing of your arrival portends great tidings for us,” said the High Chancellor.
Rose frowned. “Why’s that?”
“You are our Goddess of Light.”
Rose was aware that her mouth opened in shock, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it. The Doctor jumped up and said, “Could you please excuse us? Like you said, long journey, little sleep, you know how it is. Thanks.”
The sound of a door closing brought Rose back to reality. The High Chancellor had left them alone in the anteroom. “They think I’m what?”
“Apparently you resemble their deity, and since we arrived during that deity’s festival, they’ve connected the two,” the Doctor said in much too calm a tone.
“I can’t be a god! This is ridiculous!”
“Sure you can. It’s just like dressing up as a kid.”
“I can’t believe you’re not stopping this!”
“There’s no harm in going along with it. It’s just a party. It’s happened before.”
“But what if I say something wrong, and the economy collapses or whatever?”
The Doctor walked up to her and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do fine; I don’t think you’re the power-mad type anyway.”
Rose grasped at any excuse to show the Doctor why this wouldn’t work. “A black race worshipping a white girl? Doesn’t that sound a little weird to you?”
“They don’t have that sort of dichotomy, Rose. Black and white doesn’t matter to them. They think in terms of light and shadow, if anything. And they’re not really worshipping you; they don’t think you’re actually the Goddess of Light. More of an embodiment, a symbol.”
Rose scowled. “They’re not going to adorn me with roses, are they? ‘Cause Mickey tried that once. He thought it was funny.”
The Doctor twitched, but he laughed and pulled her close. “Don’t worry,” he said again. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Serves me right for wanting to be blonde,” she mumbled into his jumper. “Stupid hair. Stupid name. Stupid alien goddess festival.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” the Doctor said. “It’s just for a little while. You make some people happy, wave a bit, then we can leave. No harm done. Now, how about we meet your adoring fans?”
Rose’s groan was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was the High Chancellor. “Pardon me,” it said - he, Rose decided - “but we must prepare Rose Tyler for her reception. If you would be willing to part with the Flower for now, we can be underway.”
Rose looked at the Doctor. “Will you be alright?” he asked, his earlier flippancy gone.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, remember?”
The Doctor nodded. “Alright then. I’ll see you later.”
“Not if I see you first,” she called back. She watched him as she walked away, and he gave a small wave as she left. She followed the Manx out of the anteroom through a different door, and decided to hell with it, if she was going to have an adventure, she might as well enjoy it.
“This may be an impertinent question,” the High Chancellor said, “but what gender are you, if not undecided?”
Maybe not so fun. “What? I’m female. That’s what a goddess usually is, right?”
“The Goddess of Light may take whatever form she chooses. One of the legends depicts her as a Rafe with fiery hooves.”
“Right,” Rose said. “What’s this goddess like? She’s not smiting people or turning them into trees, is she?”
The Manx smiled, showing more teeth. “No. She is of light in all its forms, although light may be destructive. Isn’t that right, Rose Tyler?”
“Suppose,” she muttered as they entered another room. To Rose it looked like a spa of some sort, with pools of water and cushions everywhere. It was like a feminine idea of pampering heaven. Several Manx dressed in pastels were inside watching her.
“This is Rose Tyler, the Flower of the Goddess of Light,” the High Chancellor said to them. “Please prepare her for her reception.”
He began to leave when Rose stopped him. “When you say prepare, you mean like get dressed or something, not prepare as in marinate, right?”
The High Chancellor laughed, a rich deep sound unlike the barking Rose had expected. “What do you take us for, savages? A Flower is sacred; no one would dream of harming one.”
Rose laughed as well, rather nervously. “Good, just checking.” The High Chancellor left, and she turned to the waiting Manx. “Where do I start?” she said.
The attendants, she soon discovered, were both enthusiastic and efficient. In only an hour she’d had the rather odd experience of being washed by a dog, and was polished, powdered, dressed, and accessorized.
For a goddess it was quite modest. The same thick silky material had been wound around her several times, yet expertly draped to give her freedom of movement. Thin gold bands wound up her arms, and more bands held her hair in an elegant pile. She looked very Roman, she thought as she stood in front of a mirror. Rose smiled as she remembered what the Doctor had said earlier about Romans. She never told him, but she loved getting the chance to dress up on their adventures.
“It makes you shine even brighter than before,” a Manx that had introduced itself - herself - as Pola said.
“Thanks to you,” Rose replied. She twirled to see the fabric shift around her. “What do you mean, ‘shine’?”
Pola glanced at the mirror. “Can’t you see it? You practically glow. It’s how the High Chancellor knew you were the Flower for sure.”
Rose frowned at her image. It looked the same. “I’m sorry, I can’t see it. Maybe it’s a Manx thing. The Doctor mentioned something about light and dark.”
“Is the Doctor the companion you arrived with?” Pola asked.
“Yeah, I suppose he is,” Rose laughed. She wondered how the Doctor would react to being called the companion. She stopped laughing when she noticed how uncomfortable Pola looked. Her eyes were narrowed and her ears flat against her skull. “What is it?”
“The High Chancellor...he thinks that perhaps your companion is too dark for you.”
“Too dark? But you’re all...” Rose faltered. She assumed Pola had meant skin tone. But it couldn’t be that. Dark hair? Dark coat? Then she remembered. “You mean instead of being all glowy?”
Pola nodded slightly. “The High Chancellor worried that he might overshadow you.”
“Well, I’ve dealt with that before,” Rose muttered. “You don’t need to worry about that. I can look after myself.”
“Of course,” Pola said quickly. “The Goddess may consort with whomever she chooses.” Her ears twitched and she took on a listening attitude, although Rose didn’t notice anything. “The people are ready to receive their Flower. Are you prepared to meet them?”
“As much as I’ll ever be,” Rose said. “Lead on.”
Chapter Two
Author: alex_caligari
Beta: jellybean728
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Puppets firmly attached to strings of BBC.
Summary: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. -Confucius
Author's Notes: This was originally part of the Round 2 prompt challenges over at storm_and_wolf, and was due in December. Oops. It is based on the quote above, and the lyrics are from "Les Fleur" by 4Hero.
They stood watching a planet die. It wasn’t destroyed by the unnatural expansion of its sun or torn apart by war; it had the quiet of slow decay.
They were side by side in the doorway, the light from the red giant turning her hair to molten gold and his jacket the colour of human blood. They said nothing, but eventually she reached out and took his hand. They remained that way until the planet was nothing but rock and history.
***
“Can we go somewhere...”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you were asking. What is it?”
“I was just wondering if we could go somewhere...pretty?”
“What about Woman Wept? That was pretty, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, of course it was, but I mean somewhere with people.”
“Like Paris?”
She laughed. “Least I wouldn’t have to worry about using the wrong verbs.”
“Or kissing strangers.”
There was a pause.
“But you weren’t thinking of Paris.”
“Not really. Once you’ve seen blue aliens, ordinary people become kind of, well, ordinary.”
“Bored with your planet already? For shame.”
“I want to see another sort of pretty. Earth has the Mona Lisa and the pyramids and Brad Pitt and whatever. What do other places have?”
The Doctor grinned. “Let’s find out.”
He twisted a knob, and Rose stepped out on to blue grass. The sky was a dusky pink, and leafless trees twisted out of the ground. “Where are we?” she asked.
“In the middle of a park, in the city of Falgin, on the planet Manx.”
“People?” She walked towards one of the trees. It was no higher than eye level, and was bright red.
“Of course there are people. Who do you think built the city?”
She didn’t take the bait. “You know what I mean. What are they like?”
He joined her beside the tree. “Technologically advanced by your standards, but returning to a more spiritual mindset. Sort of like your Romans; willing to accept science and religion.”
“So, not a bloodthirsty warrior race then?”
“Nope.”
“Shame. We’re about due for one.”
He looked at her and smiled, finally giving in to the teasing. “C’mon. Worlds to meet, people to greet, foods to eat.”
She smiled back and took his offered hand. “You’ve been waiting to say that all day, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer, only raised his eyebrows. They walked together, and Rose saw that they were in a small hollow surrounded by low hills. The higher they climbed, the more buildings she could see around them. They were tall and rounded, and made of smooth stone, with dark figures moving in between them.
“The Manx,” the Doctor said. “Easy name to remember, even in plural. One Manx, many Manx. All the little Manx from the planet Manx.”
“You just like it ‘cause it sounds like a cat.”
He grinned. “Wait till you see them.”
They walked down the hill towards the city. It looked like they were on the outskirts of a suburb; small black creatures ran down the street chasing a glowing ball of light while a larger creature watched carefully. It glanced their way, but returned its attention to the others.
“Right then,” Rose said, “where are the cultural centres ‘round here? Museums, art galleries, temples, that sort of thing?”
“A bit impatient, aren’t we? Don’t you want to enjoy the sights?” He led her down a wide street anyway, towards the larger buildings.
“The longer we hang around, the more likely it is that the bloodthirsty warrior race will find us and decide we’ve offended their emperor or something.”
He tilted his head in consideration. “True.”
More black creatures-Manx, she guessed-appeared on the streets as they walked. Rose tried not to stare. They were roughly five feet in height, humanoid in shape, and canine in resemblance. At first they all looked alike, but then she remembered that an old schoolmate, Nadira, had said the same thing about white people.
Once she accustomed herself to them, however, she found them quite intriguing. Long-legged and slender, they wore colourful tunics made of something silky yet thick, and went without shoes. They resembled hounds from back home, with long muzzles and soft ears. The Manx were much more expressive though, smiling and frowning as well as using their ears to show their mood. And they were, of course, tailless.
Several times Rose had to resist reaching out and petting one, telling herself that it would be incredibly rude and how would she feel if someone like the Doctor treated her as a pet? So she watched carefully and listened to the Doctor telling her about the city.
“What are all these?” she asked, pointing to a shape drawn on to a wall. It was a crude stick figure in a circle with rays all around it. Rose had seen several while they were walking. “It looks like that Da Vinci drawing.”
The Doctor peered at it. “Don’t know. It could be any number of things; resistance movement, gang symbol, simple graffiti.”
“But nothing’s simple with us, is it?”
“It’s not likely.” He glanced around. “Excuse me,” he said to a passing Manx, “my friend and I only just arrived, and we were wondering-”
“Oh, are you here for the festival?” it interrupted. The translated accent sounded high class. “We always get a few foreigners like yourselves, although not quite so...” it leaned around the Doctor to look at Rose, “interesting,” it finished.
“Why are we interesting?” Rose asked. She hadn’t missed the Doctor stiffening slightly.
The Manx didn’t answer, only continued to stare at Rose. “Very interesting,” it murmured.
“Where is this festival?” asked the Doctor, stepping in front of Rose.
The Manx blinked and focused back on the Doctor. “At the temple, of course. You can’t miss it.” It pointed to the left. “If you need any help finding your way...”
“We’ll be fine from here, thanks,” the Doctor smiled. He waved at the Manx and walked away with Rose’s hand in his.
There were several minutes of silence until Rose asked, “Why was it looking at me like that?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to find out what this ‘festival’ is all about.” The Doctor’s voice had taken on a familiar if frightening edge. No more exploring; now they had a mission.
The temple was a simple affair compared to the ones on Earth. It was long and wide, hardly higher than the surrounding buildings, with a large dome in the middle. A larger stick figure was picked out in blue and gold stone on the street in front of it. The crowds increased as they got closer, and everywhere Manx were watching Rose. One wearing a short red tunic started when it saw her and dropped to all fours to run towards the temple.
They finally managed to fight the crowds enough to approach an entrance, only to be stopped by a tall Manx in a green tunic. Its long ears had been docked so they were pointed like a Doberman’s, and were adorned with small gold rings. The one in red stood behind it. Even standing below it on the stairs, the Doctor was at eye level. At least intimidation through height wasn’t going to work.
“I’m the Doctor and this is Rose Tyler,” he said. “What can we do for you?”
The Manx in green smiled, revealing long white teeth. “Greetings, Doctor. I am the High Chancellor, power-balance to the Prime Minister. And to you, Rose Tyler,” it said, bowing to Rose, “I welcome you home. Follow me please.”
They glanced at each other. Rose shrugged; the Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Alright then,” he said. “Lead on.”
Rose kept close to the Doctor’s side, not yet scared but wary, as they moved through wide corridors into an anteroom.
“What is this festival that’s happening?” the Doctor asked conversationally.
“It is the Festival of the Golden Flower, the symbol of our most prominent goddess,” the High Chancellor replied. It gestured to a low sofa. “Please, sit. Your journey must have tired you.”
The Doctor sat easily, even though his knees were bent awkwardly high. “You have a name then, or just a title?”
The Manx smiled. “Of course I have a name, Doctor,” it said, laying emphasis on the last word. “I merely prefer to go by my title in public. I am Rodrix, of the Hanover pack.” It bowed once more.
“Please,” said Rose, “why are you interested in us? I mean, we’re honoured, but I don’t see what makes us so special.”
“Rose Tyler, the timing of your arrival portends great tidings for us,” said the High Chancellor.
Rose frowned. “Why’s that?”
“You are our Goddess of Light.”
Rose was aware that her mouth opened in shock, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it. The Doctor jumped up and said, “Could you please excuse us? Like you said, long journey, little sleep, you know how it is. Thanks.”
The sound of a door closing brought Rose back to reality. The High Chancellor had left them alone in the anteroom. “They think I’m what?”
“Apparently you resemble their deity, and since we arrived during that deity’s festival, they’ve connected the two,” the Doctor said in much too calm a tone.
“I can’t be a god! This is ridiculous!”
“Sure you can. It’s just like dressing up as a kid.”
“I can’t believe you’re not stopping this!”
“There’s no harm in going along with it. It’s just a party. It’s happened before.”
“But what if I say something wrong, and the economy collapses or whatever?”
The Doctor walked up to her and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do fine; I don’t think you’re the power-mad type anyway.”
Rose grasped at any excuse to show the Doctor why this wouldn’t work. “A black race worshipping a white girl? Doesn’t that sound a little weird to you?”
“They don’t have that sort of dichotomy, Rose. Black and white doesn’t matter to them. They think in terms of light and shadow, if anything. And they’re not really worshipping you; they don’t think you’re actually the Goddess of Light. More of an embodiment, a symbol.”
Rose scowled. “They’re not going to adorn me with roses, are they? ‘Cause Mickey tried that once. He thought it was funny.”
The Doctor twitched, but he laughed and pulled her close. “Don’t worry,” he said again. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Serves me right for wanting to be blonde,” she mumbled into his jumper. “Stupid hair. Stupid name. Stupid alien goddess festival.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” the Doctor said. “It’s just for a little while. You make some people happy, wave a bit, then we can leave. No harm done. Now, how about we meet your adoring fans?”
Rose’s groan was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was the High Chancellor. “Pardon me,” it said - he, Rose decided - “but we must prepare Rose Tyler for her reception. If you would be willing to part with the Flower for now, we can be underway.”
Rose looked at the Doctor. “Will you be alright?” he asked, his earlier flippancy gone.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, remember?”
The Doctor nodded. “Alright then. I’ll see you later.”
“Not if I see you first,” she called back. She watched him as she walked away, and he gave a small wave as she left. She followed the Manx out of the anteroom through a different door, and decided to hell with it, if she was going to have an adventure, she might as well enjoy it.
“This may be an impertinent question,” the High Chancellor said, “but what gender are you, if not undecided?”
Maybe not so fun. “What? I’m female. That’s what a goddess usually is, right?”
“The Goddess of Light may take whatever form she chooses. One of the legends depicts her as a Rafe with fiery hooves.”
“Right,” Rose said. “What’s this goddess like? She’s not smiting people or turning them into trees, is she?”
The Manx smiled, showing more teeth. “No. She is of light in all its forms, although light may be destructive. Isn’t that right, Rose Tyler?”
“Suppose,” she muttered as they entered another room. To Rose it looked like a spa of some sort, with pools of water and cushions everywhere. It was like a feminine idea of pampering heaven. Several Manx dressed in pastels were inside watching her.
“This is Rose Tyler, the Flower of the Goddess of Light,” the High Chancellor said to them. “Please prepare her for her reception.”
He began to leave when Rose stopped him. “When you say prepare, you mean like get dressed or something, not prepare as in marinate, right?”
The High Chancellor laughed, a rich deep sound unlike the barking Rose had expected. “What do you take us for, savages? A Flower is sacred; no one would dream of harming one.”
Rose laughed as well, rather nervously. “Good, just checking.” The High Chancellor left, and she turned to the waiting Manx. “Where do I start?” she said.
The attendants, she soon discovered, were both enthusiastic and efficient. In only an hour she’d had the rather odd experience of being washed by a dog, and was polished, powdered, dressed, and accessorized.
For a goddess it was quite modest. The same thick silky material had been wound around her several times, yet expertly draped to give her freedom of movement. Thin gold bands wound up her arms, and more bands held her hair in an elegant pile. She looked very Roman, she thought as she stood in front of a mirror. Rose smiled as she remembered what the Doctor had said earlier about Romans. She never told him, but she loved getting the chance to dress up on their adventures.
“It makes you shine even brighter than before,” a Manx that had introduced itself - herself - as Pola said.
“Thanks to you,” Rose replied. She twirled to see the fabric shift around her. “What do you mean, ‘shine’?”
Pola glanced at the mirror. “Can’t you see it? You practically glow. It’s how the High Chancellor knew you were the Flower for sure.”
Rose frowned at her image. It looked the same. “I’m sorry, I can’t see it. Maybe it’s a Manx thing. The Doctor mentioned something about light and dark.”
“Is the Doctor the companion you arrived with?” Pola asked.
“Yeah, I suppose he is,” Rose laughed. She wondered how the Doctor would react to being called the companion. She stopped laughing when she noticed how uncomfortable Pola looked. Her eyes were narrowed and her ears flat against her skull. “What is it?”
“The High Chancellor...he thinks that perhaps your companion is too dark for you.”
“Too dark? But you’re all...” Rose faltered. She assumed Pola had meant skin tone. But it couldn’t be that. Dark hair? Dark coat? Then she remembered. “You mean instead of being all glowy?”
Pola nodded slightly. “The High Chancellor worried that he might overshadow you.”
“Well, I’ve dealt with that before,” Rose muttered. “You don’t need to worry about that. I can look after myself.”
“Of course,” Pola said quickly. “The Goddess may consort with whomever she chooses.” Her ears twitched and she took on a listening attitude, although Rose didn’t notice anything. “The people are ready to receive their Flower. Are you prepared to meet them?”
“As much as I’ll ever be,” Rose said. “Lead on.”
Chapter Two