I did mean to do the whole transformation in this chapter but my brain apparently had other plans for the rest of the story. :| I'm happy with the scene but may go back to edit it...
Dusk was falling like a blue and purple sheet over Yavos, and the steady hum of excitement as preparations for the ceremony began, rose gradually in pitch.
Rose had no idea as to what this ceremony was for, but hell if she was going to miss a good party.
So a confused but elated Rose and a rather quiet Time Lord were lead out of their dingy, claustrophobic cell to be gawked at by Yavos children, and then separated to be 'prepared'. Of course, being a female and catching the speculative eyes of the handmaidens brandishing clothe and brush, Rose understand the phrase. The Doctor, however, was stock-still, looking more than a little worried, and it took some coaxing on her part (with some hushed giggling at his poor bemused face) and, well, some assertiveness on one of the women's part to get him moving.
The Doctor, speechless and ganged up on by women: priceless.
For her, girly moments were rather a rarity. She loved travelling with her Time Lord by herself- just the two of them- and preferred it that way...but sometimes she wouldn't mind the additional female company. Because the Doctor's leisure time often involved him and technobabble -if they weren't holed up cosily in the library watching a film or something or other. And the evening had consisted of things she did miss back home - dresses, makeup and general light-hearted, giggly conversation.
One of the women, Tria, who was about her age, spun round the marble corner brandishing a light pink dress. The folds near the hem frilled out towards her as Tria held it against herself, eyes sparkling.
"I think this is perfect. Sure to catch the eye of your gentleman." Tria then lapsed into a melody of giggles, swirling the dress about as the others chatted merrily and looked at Rose.
Well, this was something she encountered daily- if not more. Despite what she wanted inside, her defence of who they were sprung up and she became guarded.
"No -you see, the Doctor and me, " she stuttered, biting her lip and looking away, "we've never -we're not like that."
And everytime she admitted it, oh how it stung even more that it was true. But as usual, the women exchanged looks and the eldest did a little hand-motion and rolled her eyes.
"Sure..." They all exchanged looks and now she felt the one being ganged up on.
"No, really," she urged.
"Maybe so," Tria replied with a soft, but sad smile directed at her.
"And if not," another quipped with a giggle, "then we can get things moving!" A bubble of simultaneous laughter broke through her thoughts and Rose jumped as Tria laid a hand on her shoulder."
"Come. Let me do your hair," she smile, lightly brushing one of her locks, "and you can tell me about this Earth of yours..."
The Doctor, on the other hand, had less fun. He was deemed dirty, much to his indignant snort, and then barely managed to escape a through scrubbing by a rather matronly Yavos in order to keep his dignity. His speedy exit reminded him of Jacob's encounter with Potiphar's wife...in that he ran out the washing quarters having left his shirt behind. Not wishing to bear any more ill-feeling on the population he'd then reluctantly accepted the traditional outfit from the giggling women who took Rose.
They barricaded the entry to the women's quarters as he approached to collect his clothing, hugging it to his rather exposed chest when he got it. But his attempts to see his companion were thwarted - even just standing on the balls on his feet to peek over their heads nearly earned him a slap!
"Aw, come on now! This isn't a wedding!" He protested, nearly tripping up over his own feet.
One of the younger Yavos -probably an apprentice or maidservant or the like - came to the front of the wall of women and met his gaze with the most shocking blue eyes - the sort one could swim in and forever be lost. He couldn't quite place her expression.
"A...wedding?" Her brows criss-crossed, so all her features scurried together in the middle of her youthful face. It kind of reminded him of Rose, in a roundabout way.
"Er, a ceremony, back on Earth. Two people form a...an intimate arrangement of sorts, pledge their life to one another, that kind of thing."
"Oh. I see." The girl looked downcast in thought for a moment, then came a lot closer to him, hands behind her back. Then she looked at him with those eyes again.
"On Yavos we have something like this...but secret. It is the Bond, elu'thhawai." That last part the Doctor couldn't translate. It was probably derived from an ancient, impossibly old language. And that was saying something considering how many languages he did know. Despite this something about the unknown word was almost magical.
"And we show it publicly with a tying ceremony." She smiled wistfully into the distance, walking over to a nearby window and reaching into a small pocket in her tunic to pull out a strip of ribbon.
"This was my mother's, before she..."
Ever the empath the Doctor would have picked up on that last bit instantly. However he was still reeling from her words about the tying ceremony. It had also been a custom on Gallifrey...and he too had been bound. The evidence, although, he no longer had, for it perished with the fires of Gallifrey's destruction.
The Doctor swallowed down the lump in his throat and padded slowly away with his clothes, clasping the bundle close to his hearts like a lifeline.
There was something magical in the fire as the tongues of flame seized up and danced. Well, apart from the fact that the Yavos had a way of changing the fire colour - the sponge colour that they lit or something. They had asked the Doctor to choose and, well, he picked up the yellow sponge and turned it in his hands for a moment with a lost look on his face before handing in back to them.
Said Doctor was now leant up against one of the walls edging the large fire pit, arms folded, out of the crowd and and excite commotion. Rose sat, legs crossed, watching him as he stayed like that for five minutes, staring up at the sky. The fire lit up his skin with a dazzling orange-yellow glow and made him look enigmatic.
Also adding to this was the baggy cotton shirt and trousers that cut down to mid-shin. They made him look quite strange, and to be honest, rather silly. Rose had told this to his face and he had protested indignantly about actually trying to not piss off the locals.
Rose also tried not to notice how the flames illuminated his body underneath said clothes. They were made of a rather sheer blend of whatever passed for cotton on this planet...She wondered if that was a deliberate move on the matchmaking women's part, actually.
The ceremony eventually took hold. She and the Doctor were vocally welcomed -much to embarrassment on both their parts- and then the feasting and dancing began. Everything was eaten by hand and shared along the crowd as they sat in a large circle. It was first a zingy salad with red and yellow leaves followed by some kind of paste. Still, it was different -and that was what she loved about travelling.
The children, which has long since disappeared, flocked back out as the music ramped up. Rose was not normally a stranger to joining in -but sometimes she just liked to watch, observing the not-so-different-from-Earth-really goings-on. After what felt like three or four hours, the children were hushed away and things began to die down.
Rose was staring into the steadily dying fire, transfixed by the glowing embers when Kylos dropped himself to the ground next to her. She turned and grinned, feeling buoyed by the bubbly concoction she'd been given earlier (which was definitely some kind of alcohol). Despite his odd-coloured skin, Kylos was rather attractive. Some time earlier in her life, Rose would have scoffed at the mere mention of aliens, let alone her falling in love with one. And the Doctor-
Kylos' words merged into her thoughts and she blinked. He frowned for a split-second, then repeated himself.
"The Doctor? Have you seen him?"
She opened her mouth to say yes, she had. He was in this very crowd, also probably a bit intoxicated (did Time Lords even get drunk?) and flirting with everybody. She was also about to see she'd danced with him not long ago-
But Rose was let with her mouth open, no sound issuing forth.
She hadn't seen the Doctor. Not once, not during the ceremony. Only before. And that had been hours ago.
Kylos nodded, patted her on the shoulder and got up to leave.
The world was now a blue-purple-yellow haze before the Doctor's eyes as he stumbled through foliage, ripping his shirt on a awry branch and scuffing his knees. He then tripped over a gnarled root and crumpled to the floor, his stomach roiling and the nausea so intense it was almost blinding. The top layer of his skin, hair follicles and all, felt like they were trying to rip of him -his arms, his legs, everywhere. He couldn't think or even clear his system, even block the effects for one minute to comprehend what the bloody hell was happening to him.
But, oh, he knew. Weeks and months had warned him of this. The Doctor doubled over and vomited what little he had eaten onto the grass beneath him. It was dark and he couldn't see his hand in front of his face and could be crawling in anything right now. But little else seemed important as his body racked him with painful spasms, forcing him to keep dry-heaving until he could barely breath.
When the awful retching stopped, he collapsed fully, taking greedy gulps of air, even face down in the dirt but he too weak to even move his head. The Doctor then shivered, the sweat from his exertion cooling, but making him feel no better.
He thought the Universe might have mercy and that he might somehow beat this. But, no, he was doomed to become a snarly horror to end him and Rose. His skin began to prickle again, differently this time, and he just lay there, defeated, as the pain began in a manner that he had never experienced -not even in all his years, in all his nine pathetic lives.
The agony began softly, practically mocking, at his very core, almost at the center of his bones, like a leg-ache. Then it felt like someone had snapped them, taken his body and molded him into a different shape, one for a brutal purpose. He briefly registered that his bones were not lengthening rapidly, just hideously cracking. And then were none of this instantaneous fur-sprouting happening. But none of that matter as he writhed about in the harsh bedding of the woods, and screamed where nobody could hear him, the jovial upbeat tunes and pounding bass covering over his shame.
He was the Doctor.
But he was also very, very afraid.