Dragons.
There were dragons. Walking about on their hind legs, holding baskets in their front claws, rolled up scrolls under their—could you call it that?—arms. Conversing in pairs, dragging young dragonlets behind them, shopping at a market.
In the sunlight, scales glistened, gleaming with designs of spirals and nebulas and whorls on their backs in every color you could think of. Each one set with a different pattern, making every one of them unique and beautiful. In all her travels with the Doctor, Clara had seen nothing like it. It was almost overwhelming.
She turned to the Doctor with wonder in her eyes, and found him looking at her, grinning with joy at her reaction.
"Welcome to Sansrithrat the Greater, to the city of Systossys, and the empire of the dragons! Here you'll find some excellent candidates for a Christmas tree." Waving one arm out to indicate the square the TARDIS had landed in, the Doctor draped his other arm over Clara's shoulder. "Of course we'll have to go outside the borders of the city to find one, but in the meantime, I thought you might enjoy seeing the city first. Lots of interesting sites here. Lots of interesting food and drink as well."
Glancing around again, Clara took it all in. The buildings, made of stone, were embellished with gems. Each building glittered with one particular color, each one different from the other. Outside of the doorways, glass signs were hung, images and lettering on them probably indicating the nature of the business. The TARDIS was translating them for her, but she still had trouble understanding exactly what their purpose was. One stated it was a 'burnishing shop,' another proudly proclaiming it sold 'stakes' and 'spears.' Clara fervently hoped that wasn't for anything to be used against humans.
At one edge of the large center of town, were brick stalls set up for the market. Here dragons bustled about, arguing prices, examining goods, making purchases. The Doctor headed straight for it.
"You must, you really must try the local delicacy here. A kind of grilled fowl, seasoned with herbs grown in the countryside just outside of town. It really is delicious," he rattled, his arm sliding off her shoulder and down to her hand, which he took as he tugged her forward. Clara stumbled after him, a bit intimidated by the dragons, which were well over seven feet tall at least, and as wide as two people. They also had long tails, which she studiously tried to avoid as they made their way to the market. The Doctor pulled her over to a stall, where behind a brick counter stood a red-scaled dragon, with a curious metal like apron over its midsection. Clara saw raw, birdlike plucked poultry, hanging at one end of the stall, waiting to be cooked. Nearby were long metal spears, propped against the back of the stall.
"Two of the smaller ones, my good man, cooked medium," the Doctor ordered, smiling up at the dragon. He held up the psychic paper, and Clara wondered as usual what the dragon must be seeing on it, as it smiled and nodded, accepting the psychic paper as some kind of substitute for their currency.
"With or without extra spice?" the dragon responded, in a voice that gave extra sibilance to the way it pronounced the 's'. If Clara had to guess its gender, she would put it down to male as to the depth of that voice. But she wasn't ready to swear to it.
The Doctor turned to Clara. "How hot…do you like your food? I must warn you their spices can get pretty fiery."
"I like a good spicy curry like anyone, but I think I'll go without for a first try," she replied. She'd had some interesting off-Earth food in her time traveling with the Doctor, and some interesting experiences with the results of her eating it. Better not take any chances like what happened to her once when she ate too much of that Gandahoovian rice.
Grinning at the dragon, the Doctor completed their order. "Without extra spice."
With fascination, Clara watched as the Dragon turned, pulled down two small bird carcasses, placed them on a spear, and then turned to a soot covered brick wall, and proceeded to breath flames of fire onto the meat without a second thought. With skill the beast turned the spear, controlling his flaming breath to make sure every inch of the meat was cooked to perfection. It took very little time.
The dragon then pulled two stone plates out from under the counter and slid each cooked bird onto each plate. "Enjoy, envoy of the Galactic Interstellar Friendship Conference. It is my pleasure to serve you."
Grinning, the Doctor took the plates and handed one to Clara. He fished napkins out of his bigger on the inside pocket, and they made their way to a stone fountain to sit on and enjoy their meal.
Clara carefully pulled a leg free of her fowl and took a bite. A large smile crossed her features. The Doctor wasn't kidding—this was the best poultry she'd ever had. The spices were intriguing; a little like a cross between Greek and Italian seasoning. It really was delightful, if a bit greasy and messy.
"Didn't I tell you?" the Doctor mumbled, in between chewing. She nodded back, her mouth full. Sometimes, moments like this, sitting watching huge dragons go about their day as she ate food she'd never find on Earth, more than made up for the dangerous ones she faced traveling with the Doctor. She looked up into the azure sky and smiled.
At that moment, what appeared to be an elderly dragon with golden scales, stopped directly across from her. It narrowed its eyes, and bobbed its head, looking her up and down. Then it stomped over to stand directly in front of her.
"It's you…it really is you, isn't it?" It lowered its head to look in her face. Clara, startled, sat back, almost into the fountain. "It really is you," it breathed softly, and then smiled. One of its paws came up and gently touched her face with its claws. "Back from the dead. This is a miracle, but then, you always were one," it murmured.
The Doctor, watching all this, set his food to one side, and then wiped his hands with a napkin. "What…what are you talking about?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
Without replying to the Doctor, the golden dragon stepped back, tipped its head up and let out a cry. "Coooo-eee-oooo! Come and see! Come and see! The savior of the dragons has returned to us! It's a miracle!"
Then he moved forward, grasped Clara's hands in his own, and drew her up, pulling her into the square. Before the Doctor could react, the dragons surrounded Clara, milling about her excitedly. He could hear excited dragon voices, taking up the cry.
"The savior?" "Is it real?" "What's old Ssandar saying?" "Ossswin Claire is back!" "No—it can't be true!" "See for yourself, there she is! They're lifting her up!"
Sure enough, the Doctor could see Clara being lifted up above the dragons, high in the air. He tried to reach her, but too many bulky dragons blocked his progress. Clara's voice wavered back to him. "Doctoooorrr!" Her uncertainty spurred him on to trying to shove his way to her. But the crowd suddenly carried her off, deeper into the city. Desperate to reach her, he pushed himself between scaly bodies, only to earn their ire at being so roughly handled. Two of the dragons grabbed his arms and threw him back.
"Here! What's your game then, sir? Leave Ossswin alone. Guard, hold this fellow, he was trying to impede the crowd." One of the dragons handed the Doctor to a burly armored dragon, which then took him in a steely grip.
"Wot? Impeding the crowd? At this moment, when Ossswin has returned to us? How dare you sir, I will put you aside so you may calm down," and still holding the Doctor firmly in his scaly grasp, the dragon took the protesting Doctor into a building, marched him down a long hallway and placed him in a cell.
Again, apologies for this being so late. I am embarrassed to admit I didn't have an idea of what I was going to do next from the last chapter. I have a definite idea of how the story is going to develop, but as for where they were going to get a tree-I hadn't thought that part out yet! Took me forever to come up with an idea. I've got one now and I hope you will like it. :-)
