Here's the next one! Mind you, I am not an artist and know nothing, lol, but this is going to be a more... realistic kind of oc. Don't expect them to just run out and sacrifice themselves for the greater good. They are the biggest chicken.
Soft music played in the earbuds of a figure seated in the least likely place. The only sound in the area was the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind and light brush strokes on canvas. The artist brought their hand away from the painting they were working on, wiping a bit of sweat off their cheek with the back of their hand, smearing a dab of blue paint across their pale skin in the process. A small furrow marred their features, pinching their eyebrows close as they turned their eyes toward their subject; one eye having a splash of brown streaking across the normally blue iris. Standing before them was a large statue made of stone, hovering over the grave.
The church graveyard was empty sans the artist with heterochromia and their canvas. They lowered their brush and leaned back on their stool, eyeing the statue. It was a large, towering figure in a cloak. An angel with chipped wings and cracks running over its hands, which covered its face as though it were weeping over the grave it stood above. The artist eyed it for a moment longer before setting the brush down and turning to dig through a duffle bag at their side holding paint supplies.
The art on their canvas was almost finished. Just the last few touches of the sky and surrounding graves were needed, but the main focal piece of the weeping angel statue was done. The sun was starting to set though. The artist would have to hurry if they were to finish before dusk and the light of the sun vanished or the workers at the church kicked them out. They wouldn't get that far though, given there was something wrong with this work they were doing.
They pulled out a paint tube with a hum of triumph, grabbing their palette and palette knife, and smearing a dab of paint on it. They mixed the paint with a dab already there, creating a darker shade of blue before grabbing their brush once more. They brought the brush up and looked back at the canvas only to yelp and throw themselves backward; their stool tumbling to the ground with them.
They stared in shock from the grass, palette on the ground dripping paint onto the blades as they stared at the canvas. The angel statue had moved, face twisting into something devilish and reaching forward with clawed hands. The artist breathed heavily for a moment, uncertain what to think. Their painting moved. This doesn't just happen. They leaned slightly to the side, attempting to look at the statue itself, but it remained immobile and when they looked back at the canvas, the painting had shifted again. The statue was now half out of the canvas, as though crawling out of the paper frame to come after them.
The artist bolted to their feet scrambling to think, to do something. What could they do? What were they supposed to do? Sluggishly, a thought came to mind. A thought that wouldn't occur to everyone if they were put in such an insane situation, but it blared through the artist's mind like a warning.
Don't blink.
They shakily reached down towards their bag, gathering what they could and stuffing it away without taking their eyes off the painting. It was impossible. This was impossible. This sort of thing only happened in stories, in tv shows!
The artist paused, eyes starting to burn a little as a breeze swept through again, drying them quickly. A tv show. Surely it was a coincidence. Yet, the thought of not blinking had come from somewhere. They never watched it though. They never watched Doctor Who. They caught glimpses, sure. The memes and references were everywhere. They had friends who watched it and would rattle on about episodes over tea with the artist barely capable of understanding. An alien traveler who picks up companions and saves the world but can never really die. A man who fought alien invaders like robot men and strange pepper-pot creatures. That's why this was familiar. This was one of them.
A Weeping Angel.
It didn't change one thing though. The impossibility of it all. Weeping Angels didn't exist here. They were statues. Normal statues. The actual statue itself hadn't come after the artist, so why the painting? Was it the tattered appearance of the statue? Was it just something the artist themselves were capable of without knowing it? They wouldn't get answers though. Who would give them? The Doctor?
The artist was squinting now, struggling to not blink. Fear of the creature had their heart racing, breath coming out in quick bursts, but they had their things. They just needed their easel. It was expensive. They weren't rich, just another struggling ex-college student trying to make their way in the world. All they really had was their art and a dingy apartment in the middle of an overcrowded city packed to the brim with arrogant people who didn't care about art for the life of them. The artist grimaced, getting to their feet and slowly moving around towards the side of the painting. They could do this. They just needed to knock the canvas off and grab the easel before running. I can do this.
They lunged, grabbing the wood of the easel and pushing the back of the canvas off, but they made a mistake. They took their eyes off the angel in their triumph and before they had the opportunity to even try and turn around, they were gone with the grasp of stone wrapped around their wrist.
Nel Adkins was a young, up-and-coming artist born and raised in a city-run orphanage in the middle of the US. All she knew was the daily struggle of trying to climb her way up from nothing into being something. It didn't matter what, exactly, she became as long as it was something she could do.
She couldn't do a lot of things. Math for one flew right over her head. Housework? Disaster. When she'd aged up enough to get a small pension from the government and leave the orphanage, it took long hours of scouring internet tutorials for months to get to the point where she could comfortably cook her own meals and take care of herself.
She tried to stay in school for as long as she could. She just wasn't good at it. Another thing to add to the list. She just couldn't keep her grades up enough to be worth anything. Then, someone made a comment on the chalk drawing she'd done for the cafe she worked at for bare minimum wage. "Art," they called it. A scribble in her eyes had become something so amazing in someone else's. That was how she found it though, her worth.
Art was expensive though. The paints, the tools, the canvases, and easels. It took long hours, multiple jobs, saving up cash, and cutting back essentials to get her first real setup. Then, time. Time to practice, to learn, to try out new things. The hardest thing was learning when her art was good. It was never good to her. She would scrap pieces over and over again until someone would pick them up and offer to buy them. As a card, a gift, a piece of decor for their bathroom.
The better she got, the more expensive the offers, the addition of commissions, a website to call her own. She understood worth, what was good, what to expect. Then, an odd one came in. A specific statue in a specific graveyard. The workers would be notified ahead of time. The payment posted through mail. Half now, half later. It was suspicious but the pay was more than she'd ever asked.
She regretted taking the job now.
26 years of struggling, the beginnings of progress, all taken away by a Weeping Angel from another world. She was back at square one. No, worse than that. She had no orphanage to get her prepped for this. No adults to tell her what to do or how to handle this. She was the adult. An adult suddenly dropped God knows where.
She groaned and struggled to resist the urge to vomit with nausea rolling through her stomach. She was lying on the ground, hand clenching around dirt and the strap of her duffle bag while the other held firm to the wood of her easel. It took a moment for her to feel well enough to push herself upright, wincing as her left wrist throbbed. It was dark and she couldn't see well enough to determine if there was bruising or something worse that happened when the angel grabbed her, so she settled on her backside in the dirt and attempted to look around. It was a little lighter further down the tunnel—cave? She still wasn't sure where she was or what had exactly happened. Her mind was a bit scrambled and as she got to her feet, she swore she heard something shift in the darkness.
She froze instinctually, scanning the dark in the hopes that she might see more than the pitch-black depths of the cavern. She didn't move for a long moment, ears straining and then the sound came again; like stone scraping across pavement. Her heart lept into her throat, the image of an angel coming to mind and making her blink hard with a mutter under her breath.
"Please just be nothing. Please let this all be some sick dream."
She took a hesitant step back only for her foot to catch on something reaching for her ankle. She let out a yelp as she tumbled backward, but was quick to scramble back up, grabbing her things and running towards the lighter side of the tunnel. It was hard to see where she was going and she'd nearly run into a wall at least twice before rushing out of the cavern and smack into someone. They whipped around as she fell back onto the ground, cringing when she'd hit her injured hand against stone. She turned and shouted, pushing herself away from the fallen stone statue on the ground only to see something swing her way.
Again, she froze, body stiff and tight at the sight of a gun barrel pointed right at her by a young man who looked equally as frightened as she was. She immediately felt a bit light-headed with everything that was happening all at once, clinging to her easel as though it might protect her from the startled soldier staring her down. He turned then, firing at something and making Nel cringe at the noise, curling up towards her easel with her eyes clenched tight until he stopped and someone came storming over.
"Cleric!" The older man snapped. "What in God's name—"
Nel cracked an eye open as he cut himself short, eyeing her on the ground.
"Who the devil is this?"
The cleric turned back to Nel and stuttered out a response, giving the stone statue nearby a hesitant glance.
"I-I'm not sure, sir. She came running out of the cavern there. I was going to detain her when…" He looked at the bullet-ridden statute he'd shot at as more people started rushing over. "I thought it looked at me."
The older man scowled, throwing a finger at the statue. "We know what the Angel looks like. Is that the Angel?"
"No, sir," the cleric murmured.
"No, sir, it is not. According to the Doctor, we are facing an enemy of unknowable power and infinite evil, so it would be good, it would be very good, if we could all remain calm in the presence of decor."
"Calm?" Nel squeaked out, looking at the soldiers like they were crazy. "W-Who could be calm in this place! I don't even know where the hell I am, and he just, just went and shot at things! What is going on! Who are you!"
"Nel?"
Nel whipped around to the person who'd called her: a young-looking man with a tweed coat and bowtie. He smiled brightly at the sight of her, bounding over like an eager puppy.
"Ah! It is you! How are you, Nel? In the middle of painting again?"
Nel looked him up and down, absolutely lost. "Who are you? How do you know me? Have we met?"
His smile fell immediately but bounced back, though a bit more forced. "Well, you could say I've met you, yes. Come on. On your feet."
He helped her up and lightly dusted her off as she looked at the few others who were with them. A young redhead eyed her in equal confusion, but the woman with the bushy hair offered a small smile and wave in return.
"Now then," the man hummed, grabbing Nel by the upper arms and drawing her attention back to him. "Things are going to be a bit confusing for a while, but I'll explain them to you as best I can, okay?"
Nel nodded mutely, mind spinning and confusion settling in along with fear. She didn't know what was happening, who these people were. She'd just been attacked by a statue she painted, dropped off in a cave, then nearly shot at. For once, she wanted nothing more than to go home to her tiny flat and sleep in the hopes that she'd imagined all this.
"Nel, look at me," the man encouraged and her drifting gaze returned to his blue-green eyes. "I can't tell you everything now, not with this situation, but I'll do my best, okay? What's the last thing that happened to you?"
"I-I, um…" Nel lifted her easel a bit, giving it a glance. "I was painting. It was a commission for, um… for a statue at a church, but… but it came to life." She looked at him, desperate for answers. "It was a-an angel from a show. How is that possible? How could it be real and just, just crawl out of the canvas like that?"
"It's called a Weeping Angel and its image is an angel itself," he explained. "It was probably trapped in your universe and you painting it gave it enough energy to transport you here."
"But how?" Nel pressed. "This doesn't make any sense."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but things are going to be a bit unbelievable for a while, Nel. I'm going to need you to trust me."
"I don't even know you," she argued, getting a wince from him before he plastered on another smile.
"That's alright. You'll get to know me in time, but for right now, I'm the one person with answers, okay? Can you trust me long enough for me to get you safe?"
Nel stiffened at that. "Safe from what?"
He sighed. "Right. Um, River? Would you mind explaining our current situation to Nel while I have a quick talk with the clerics?"
"Of course, sweety," River said; the bushy-haired woman Nel had spotted earlier.
Nel hesitated though, getting mixed messages. "Hold on. Trust you and trust her?"
"It would certainly make things easier, Nel," he quipped with a smile. "Now, I promise to answer your other questions once she explains things, okay?"
Nel went to argue, but he was already bounding over to the clerics, leaving her to tighten her grip on her easel and begrudgingly head over to River, who smiled pleasantly.
"Well, things certainly got tipped on their head, didn't they?"
Nel hesitated but nodded as River continued to smile to try and keep her calm.
"What do you know about the Weeping Angels, Nel?"
"Nothing, really. Just that they're statues that come to life."
"They're quantum-locked," River explained. "So, as long as someone is looking at them, they can't move. You look away or you blink and they can move very quickly. They touch you and they displace you in time about a decade in the past, feeding off the energy of what your life could have been."
Nel frowned. "But I didn't get sent back in time."
"You're a special case, Nel. The angel that touched you was weakened and in the wrong universe. Our best guess is that it used what energy you gave it by painting it and tried to get back to its universe, dragging you with it."
Nel brought a hand to her head, a headache settling in at this. "B-But I don't… Traveling between universes? And how do you know all of this? Who's 'we'?"
"The Doctor," River said, gesturing to the man who'd spoken to Nel first as he now spoke to the cleric soldiers. "He knows more about you than any of us, but only because he's met you already."
"I don't understand. How could he have met me when I haven't met him?"
"Wibbly wobbly time stuff!"
Nel jumped. The Doctor had overheard and returned, startling her when he came up behind her.
"It's all a bit complicated, isn't it?" He chirped, looking pleased despite this. "Did you explain what we're doing?"
River sighed. "It's kind of hard to explain when her knowledge of angels is little to none."
"Sorry," Nel apologized, but the Doctor waved her off.
"Nah, don't do that. What's there to apologize for? They don't exist in your universe, so how could you know?"
"They were in a show," Nel muttered.
"And you were busy," the Doctor shrugged. "It's fine, really. I understand."
Nel was a bit embarrassed though, knowing that it was a show all about him and her not watching it seemed almost like an insult now.
"So! We're here because an angel escaped a ship and we need to get to it before it hurts anyone."
Nel eyed him for a moment. "But how do you capture something like an angel?"
The Doctor opened his mouth, closed it with a furrow of his brows, before turning to Nel and smiling again. "Very carefully."
Nel's expression dropped into one of disbelief and uneasiness as he pat her back and started leading her forward through the large cavern full of statues.
"Hold on," the redhead said, catching up to them with River. "Who is she? What's this about another universe?"
"Nel is… a friend," the Doctor replied, offering her a smile as Nel eyed him in confusion. "There was an incident with a Weeping Angel and she ended up here from another universe. Probably through one of those cracks like the one in your wall, Amy. That's all I really know thus far. How's the head, Nel?"
"What? My head?"
The Doctor nodded with a hum and Nel frowned.
"It's… fine? I mean, maybe a bit of a headache but—"
"Good! Well, not the headache, but still," he chirped, lowering his voice. "It's early."
"Sorry?" Nel questioned, having missed what he said.
"Hm?" The Doctor played off and before Nel could question it, Amy cut in.
"Isn't there a chance this lot's just going to collapse? There's a whole ship up there."
Nel looked up at the hull of said ship and paled, mind spinning at the thought of the cavern collapsing. She stopped for a moment until River pushed her back lightly, getting her moving again as River answered Amy.
"Incredible builders, the Aplans."
"The who?" Nel asked.
"The Aplans," the Doctor replied, smiling. "Had dinner with their Chief Architect once. Two heads are better than one."
"What, you mean you helped him?" Amy questioned.
"No, I mean he had two heads."
Nel frowned at that, glancing at the statues around them as the Doctor spoke to River about a book on the angels.
"Doctor?" Nel called out.
"Oh! You called my name. Lovely," the Doctor chirped. "What is it?"
"The… The Aplans. Are they… aliens?"
The Doctor gave her a dumbfounded look. "I assumed the two heads explain that."
Nel flushed in embarrassment, giving the statues a hesitant glance again. "I-I mean, do they do… human things? Do they have art and culture and stuff? I don't…Aliens aren't a big thing in my universe, so I don't really… understand what they do and are like."
"Well, I'm an alien."
"Y-Yeah, but you—We look like you a-and you act like us. Two heads is… different?"
"Hm, different is a good word, but aliens are just like humans. Well, not exactly, but they have culture and art—" He gave Nel a wink, making her shrink a bit with a flush to her cheeks. "—and laws and buildings and golf like everyone else."
"Golf?" Nel shook her head before she could think about that tangent. "W-What I mean is, if we're looking for an angel, couldn't one of these… or all of these statues be… be angels?"
The Doctor frowned, confused as to how the talk of Aplans and aliens was connected to the statues and angels, but waved off Nel's concerns anyway. "No, no. They look nothing like them."
"But…" Nel flinched away from a statue near her with a grimace, still uncertain. "Do the Aplans… Do they like other cultures?"
"They're mostly into themselves, really. Oh, but they love a good song."
"So, they don't… they don't borrow things from other cultures? Like we do with the Greeks and Romans. They don't use other styles in their… their art? Their buildings?"
"Nope! Make up their own stuff. Although, they do have some buttresses that are reminiscent of the Sontaran early post-war period."
"But then, why are the statues—"
Amy cut her off, tired of the rattling on of questions. "Are we there yet? It's a hell of a climb."
Nel looked between the people in the group, uncertain how they couldn't see what was so obviously wrong with this picture. The statues couldn't possibly be the Aplans and the only other explanation was one that terrified Nel. Yet, they were so convinced that wasn't a possibility. She chewed on her bottom lip, eyeing one of the statues they passed and starting to doubt herself now too. They… They don't look like angels and they said angels move really fast when you're not looking, right? Nel stopped at the back of the group, eyeing one of the angels and grimacing. What she was about to do was stupid, but if the Doctor was right—he seemed as though he knew what he was doing better than she did—then nothing would happen. So, Nel closed her eyes hard.
"Doctor, there's something. I don't know what it is," River muttered, frowning as something in the back of her mind nagged her.
The Doctor too frowned. "Yeah, there's something wrong. Don't know what it is yet, either. Working on it." He turned to Nel, only to find her missing from his side. "Nel?"
A jolt of fear and concern flickered through him before he spotted her near the back of the group.
"Ah, there you are. Rule number one: don't wander off." He paused, realizing again that this was her first time meeting him. "Right. I'm going to have to remind you of those, aren't I? Anyway, you were interested in the Aplans! They're definitely a strange species, not that I can talk. They started having laws against self-marrying. I mean, what was that about? But that's the Church for you. Uh, no offense, Bishop," he apologized to the man standing nearby who seemed to have a consistent scowl on his face.
"Quite a lot taken, if that's all right, Doctor. Lowest point in the wreckage is only about fifty feet up from here. That way," the Bishop declared, starting to walk off as the Doctor shrugged.
"D-Doctor?" Nel breathed out then, having not turned to face him in his earlier ramble, eyes fixed on the pathway behind them and the statues on the path.
Thing was, the Doctor could tell she was scared. The tone of her voice, her quivering shoulders, the slight step back she'd taken. Something had frightened her, and he needed to find out what.
"What? What is it, Nel?"
"T-The statues."
The Doctor frowned, looking at the statues and back to her. "Yes. What about them?"
"They're angels."
"No, no. Impossible," he argued, but she grabbed his arm and tugged him back with her, grip tight.
"N-No. No, they are. I-I don't know how. I don't know them like you do, but… but they moved. I-I saw them move."
The Doctor looked back at the statues, cautious now because he knew Nel. Older Nel, young Nel, it didn't matter. One of the things that stayed consistent every time he met her was she never lied. She was honest to a fault and when there was a possible threat to herself or to anyone, she didn't joke, didn't lie to make you feel better. She told the truth because no one's lives were worth the risk of a small white lie.
"The church had a point if you think about it," Amy commented then, having come over to edge her way between the two once more. "With the whole self-marrying thing, I mean. The divorces must've been messy."
Something about that rang that alarm bell that had been going off in his and River's head the whole walk up as they discussed the Aplans, but it was still just out of reach.
"What's wrong?" River asked, coming over as well upon seeing they'd stopped for this long.
Amy frowned. "Yeah, why've we stopped? Nel scared of the dark or something?"
The Doctor turned to Nel, who had yet to turn away from the statues in her fear, her eyes starting to water but refusing to blink. "Nel," he said softly, moving closer and taking her hand in his so she wasn't forced to just grip his sleeve.
She needed his support because all of this was new and she was uncertain about everything. He needed to be that support for her because otherwise she would run… and never stop running.
"Nel, why do you think the statues are angels?" He asked, drawing River's attention and making her swing her torch around at the statues as well.
"T-The Aplans," Nel breathed, finally looking away from the statues to look at him with fearful eyes. "They have two heads."
The Doctor sucked in a sharp breath, immediately shining his own torch at the statues. "Oh."
"How could we not notice that?" River hissed out, tucking Amy behind her as the Doctor did the same with Nel and they backed up towards where the Bishop and his men were waiting.
"Low-level perception filter, or maybe we're thick," the Doctor bit out. "Nel's the only one who noticed. Either it doesn't work on her or the level of detail she looks at is just that good at spotting what's wrong. An artist's mind is a curious thing."
"What's wrong, sir?" The Bishop asked, seeing that the group had become overly cautious.
"Nobody move. Nobody move. Everyone stay exactly where they are. Bishop, I am truly sorry. I've made a mistake and we are all in terrible danger," the Doctor said seriously, leading Nel over to River and hooking their hands together instead so he could eye one of the statues nearest them.
"What danger?"
"The Aplans," River explained.
"The Aplans?"
"They've got two heads."
"A-And don't incorporate anyone but themselves into their art," Nel expanded, giving him a look. "S-So why don't the statues have two heads?"
The Bishop's expression fell as understanding dawned on him and the Doctor started barking out orders.
"Everyone, over there. Just move. Don't ask questions, don't speak. Okay, I want you all to switch off your torches."
The group that was now huddled under an alcove hesitated.
"Sir?"
"Just do it. Okay. I'm going to turn off this one too, just for a moment."
"Are you sure about this?" River questioned him as the lights were all off except his.
"Nel's already done it," he replied, standing tall. "Reckless—and we'll definitely have a talk about that later—but she's still here and she said she saw them move." He glanced back at Nel as she gripped her easel uneasily. "And I trust her."
River sighed but nodded as he turned back and flicked off his torch for just a moment, revealing the statues were indeed moving.
"Oh, my God. They've moved!" Amy breathed in shock as the Doctor took off down the way they came to check the other statues.
Amy and River hurried after them, but Nel stayed put. The angels were dangerous. She knew that first hand. It was how she ended up in this place and she wasn't about to mess around with something she didn't know. If it was a risk, she wanted nothing to do with it.
"They're angels," the Doctor called out, easily heard even from a distance. "All of them. Nel was right."
"But they can't be," River argued poorly, seeing for herself that they were.
"Clerics, keep watching them and keep Nel safe, please," he said, bounding off further back the way they came and speaking to Amy and River behind him. "Every statue in this maze, every single one, is a Weeping Angel. They're coming after us."
They hurried back to where the others were; the Doctor moving right up to Nel and despite the urge to pull her into a hug and make her feel safe, he held back and just gave her arm a squeeze.
"I'm not going to ask if you're okay because I know you're not, but can I ask something of you, Nel?"
She looked at him uneasily but offered a small nod.
"Stay close to me and you tell me whenever you need a break, okay? I just don't want you wandering off. Not here. Not like this. I'll keep you as safe as I can, I promise, but I can't do that if you run away, alright?"
Nel nodded slowly. "I-I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking," he sighed, giving her one more squeeze of reassurance as River spoke up in a bit of panic herself.
"But there was only one Angel on the ship. Just the one, I swear."
"Could they have been here already?" Amy offered as the Doctor took a few steps away from Nel—glad when she trailed after him to stay close as he'd asked.
"The Aplans. What happened? How did they die out?"
"Nobody knows," River replied, sounding unsure of herself with the situation they were in now.
"We know."
"They don't look like angels," The Bishop argued.
"And they're not fast," Amy countered as well. "You said they were fast. They should have had us by now."
"Look at them. They're dying, losing their form. They must have been down here for centuries, starving," the Doctor noted as Nel spoke up.
"A-And the image of an angel is an angel. They're like the statue I was painting. I-It didn't move either, just the painting."
"Their image is their power!" The Doctor understood, cheering almost. "Power!"
"Doctor?" Amy questioned, confused like the rest.
"Don't you see? All that radiation spilling out the drive burn. The crash of the Byzantium wasn't an accident, it was a rescue mission for the Angels. We're in the middle of an army, and it's waking up."
"We need to get out of here fast," River pointed out as the Bishop went to try and contact his men that were left below.
"Bob, Angelo, Christian, come in, please. Any of you, come in."
The comm finally crackled to life. "It's Bob, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Bob, are Angelo and Christian with you? All the statues are active. I repeat, all the statues are active."
"I know, sir. Angelo and Christian are dead, sir. The statues killed them, sir."
The Doctor took the comm from the Bishop in his shock, tense. "Bob, Sacred Bob, it's me, the Doctor. Where are you now?" He asked them, ignoring the Bishop trying to interrupt.
"I'm on my way up to you, sir. I'm homing in on your signal."
"Ah, well done, Bob. Scared keeps you fast. Told you, didn't I? Your friends, Bob. What did the Angel do to them?"
"Snapped their necks, sir."
Nel stiffened at that, a bead of cold sweat trailing down the back of her neck. This isn't right. They're supposed to put you back in time. Would they have killed me too earlier? Could I have died? Would they really have just… She took a frightened step back away from the Doctor, breaths coming out a bit short and sharp.
"Bob, keep running. But tell me, how did you escape?" The Doctor questioned, realizing what was wrong.
"I didn't escape, sir. The Angel killed me, too."
"What do you mean, the Angel killed you?"
"Snapped my neck, sir. Wasn't as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something."
Nel felt sick to her stomach, mind conjuring up images of stone hands wrapping around a throat and twisting it with a sickening crack.
"So when you say you're on your way up to us…" The Doctor continued hesitantly.
"It's the Angel that's coming, sir, yes."
"No way out."
The Bishop started handing out orders to get them moving up towards the wreckage, but Nel was immobile. She couldn't move or think, could barely breathe with the information that had just been given to her. The stone angels were snapping people's necks. They were coming for them. They had no way out. She was trapped. Worst than trapped, she was stuck in another world, another universe with nothing but a bag of paints, and here she was running with strangers she didn't know away from some mythological being trying to hunt them down and kill them.
The panic was settling in now. She wasn't sure she could keep going, or if she did, it would be an all-out panicked sprint as far away as she could get from those angels. But then what? She wasn't anyone special. She was an artist. A plain-old, boring, normal human being in an impossible situation with no idea how to even start looking for a way out of this cavern. She had no choice but to stick with the Doctor and the others. No choice but to try and pretend that someone she didn't know would somehow keep her safe just because they knew her, or they knew the angels, or whatever other excuses her mind could conjure up.
She was curled over her easel now, eyes pinched shut and half-gasping for air. I'm scared. I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared. Someone tried to get her moving but she didn't budge. Hands touched her face and she flinched away, opening her eyes to see the Doctor watching her in worry. His fingers brushed her temples and some of the haze in her mind cleared, pushing away the pounding of her heart in her ears and letting her focus on him.
"Nel. Nel, I know this is hard—"
"T-They're going to kill us."
"No. No, they won't. I won't let them."
"Y-You said they put people back in time."
"And normally, they do," he said, trying to explain it to her. "These Angels killed those men because they needed their voice. They'll probably transport the rest of us so they can get stronger and feed off the energy normally."
"You don't… Y-You don't know that."
"I don't. I'll admit that, but we can't keep standing here thinking about all the 'what ifs,'" he urged, nudging her into walking. "I know you're scared and uncertain, and I'm sorry you couldn't have appeared at a time when things were calmer so I could explain better, but I need you here, Nel. I need you present and focused. If you want to get out of here safely, then you need to listen to me and do your best to stay close and hold back some of that fear, because if you don't, you'll run off, and then what?" He questioned her, sparing her a look as he tugged her forward by her hand. "You'll run right into a pack of them, and I know you don't want that."
He was right and she knew that. It didn't make it any easier to accept but there wasn't much else she could do but listen to those who appeared to have a better understanding of what they could do to escape. So, she hesitantly nodded and he gave her hand a squeeze and offered a small smile.
"It'll get easier, Nel. I promise," he muttered, confusing her as they passed Amy and he paused. "Don't wait for us, Amy. Go, run!"
"I can't," she said, making the Doctor glance at Nel.
"Can you go up there and stay with River for me?"
Nel nodded, only a little reluctant before taking off up the path while he dealt with Amy, who was convinced she was turning to stone.
Nel caught up with River and the clerics, making River pause as the clerics split up to check nearby tunnels.
"Where's the Doctor?"
"With, um… the other girl. The redhead."
"Amy," River reminded her, nodding and keeping her gaze fixed above.
Nel followed her eyes to the metal dome shape above them. "What's that?"
"The Byzantium. It's the ship that the angel was on that crashed. Our exit."
"Like a, a spaceship?"
River turned to her in surprise before realization kicked in. "Right. I forgot how innocent you were young."
"What does that mean?" Nel asked, confused.
"It means I know an older Nel who's a little more experienced in these things, but yes. It's a spaceship." River smirked at her. "Wait until you see the Doctor's."
A cleric came running back into the area with a report then. "The statues are advancing along all corridors. And, sir, my torch keeps flickering."
"They all do," the Bishop said as the lights in the cavern flickered.
"So does the gravity globe," River pointed out, gesturing up at the floating orbs for Nel's sake.
She stared up at them in wonder as the Doctor returned with Amy.
"Yeah, it's the Angels. They're coming. And they're draining the power for themselves."
"Which means we won't be able to see them," the Bishop concluded.
"Which means we can't stay here."
"Two more incoming!" A cleric announced as River brought Nel over toward the Doctor.
"Any suggestions?"
"The statues are advancing on all sides. We don't have the climbing equipment to reach the Byzantium," the Bishop informed them.
"There's no way up, no way back, no way out. No pressure, but this is usually when you have a really good idea," River added, her words making Nel grip her easel tightly until the Doctor spoke confidently.
"There's always a way out. There's always a way out," he said before Bob the Angel came back over the comms.
"Doctor? Can I speak to the Doctor, please?"
"Hello, angels. What's your problem?" The Doctor asked, mind working a million miles a second to figure out the best way to get up to the ship.
"Your power will not last much longer, and the Angels will be with you shortly. Sorry, sir."
"Why are you telling me this?" The Doctor said shortly, seeing how Nel started to fidget and look around for ways out herself.
"There's something the Angels are very keen you should know before the end."
"Which is?"
"The angel is laughing."
"I'm sorry?"
"The angel within your companion. It's laughing. It will torment her in every way possible until its escape and when it does escape, it will snap her neck as well, just to make her scared."
The Doctor went quiet, a dangerous sort of silence that put everyone on edge except those who were oblivious to it.
"What are they doing?" Amy asked River, who looked angry herself.
"They're trying to make him angry."
"I'm sorry, sir. The Angels were very keen for you to know that. You and Nel."
Nel stiffened at her name being mentioned, looking at the Doctor's back as he refused to face her, lifting the comm back up.
"Well then, the Angels have made their second mistake because I'm not going to let that pass. I'm sorry you're dead, Bob, but I swear to whatever is left of you, they will be sorrier for even thinking of scaring Nel," he bit out with such venom that Nel suddenly worried about who he was and how safe he claimed to be.
"But you're trapped, sir, and about to die."
"Yeah. I'm trapped. And you know what? Speaking of traps, this trap has got a great big mistake in it. A great big, whopping mistake."
"What mistake, sir?"
The Doctor went over to Amy and River. "Trust me?"
"Yeah," Amy nodded.
"Trust me?"
"Always," River smiled as he turned to the clerics.
"You lot, trust me?"
"We have faith, sir," the Bishop replied, then the Doctor turned to Nel.
Nel was hesitant and uncertain. Could she really trust him? He was hiding something he knew about her since the angel had mentioned her name. She didn't want to think that it was talking about her having an angel inside her; that she would be tormented. And the way he reacted was… terrifying. He must hold a power or something that she didn't understand because just the way he spoke back to the angels—even the silent pause he'd had—made something in her quake. So when he said those words, asked if she could trust him, her immediate response would've been no… but in this situation, she had no choice. Trusting him meant surviving, and surviving was the only thing she wanted from this.
He seemed to know that too, hearing her hesitant, stuttering "yes?" and accepting it, though there was a silent pain in his eyes. She'd noticed it because that's what she did. As an artist, she noticed things and drew them, painted them into portraits and images and drawings. Her fingers twitched around her easel, wanting to just set up and paint him, but there was no time. This was not the place. Instead, she would hold the image of his sad eyes in her mind as best she could until they escaped… if they escaped.
"I'm about to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous. When I do, jump!" The Doctor ordered, taking the Bishop's pistol.
"Jump where?" The man asked.
"Just jump, high as you can. Come on, leap of faith, Bishop. On my signal."
The comm crackled to life once more.
"Sorry, can I ask again? You mentioned a mistake we made."
"Oh, big mistake. Huge. Didn't anyone ever tell you there's one thing you never put in a trap? If you're smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there is one thing you never, ever put in a trap," the Doctor said with a smirk.
"And that would be?"
"Me."
