[psl] for parallels

[passesthrough]

[Twin suns hang in the sky and rocky outcrops cast sharp shadows over the marsh that spreads across the bottom of the basin. Reeds, dark green with red veins, surround still pools. Beneath the murky water are glowing orange globes that pulse faintly. Their diameter is easily six feet across, and, if you're brave enough to touch them, their slippery outer skin is warm.

Eggs, hundreds of thousands of them. An entire species, waiting to be born. Breathtaking if you aren't squeamish about slime.

The Doctor lowers his binoculars and steps back from the edge of the dusty outcropping the TARDIS has parked herself on. He offers them to Clara, pointing out a particularly dense cluster.

This is his favorite bit, getting to see things anew through someone else's eyes.]

They'll come boiling out soon enough. Infants with no sitter. No soldiers, no politicians... no teachers. Just what their predecessors left them.

Comments

[parallels]

[Thankfully, Clara got over slime years ago. Slime is just part of the adventure.

And god she's missed adventure and all it's slime. The six months that she spent alone without the Doctor seemed like another life that she was desperate to leave behind. And so she'd shed it, along with her nightie and dressing gown, into proper adventuring jeans, shoes, a sweatshirt, and the vague hope that something might end up going terribly exciting.

She peeks into the binoculars. Eggs as far as the eye can see.]

And then what? They'll just eat and grow up here? Just them?