...A cat indeed, an old cat with time claws, subtly brushing somewhere beneath her skin. A cat had those mysterious haughty eyes. And that TARDIS may not have eyes, but she had stared Clara down all right, blue and glowing, dripping into the night like something eternal standing there. Now, inside, those lights flashed accusing, blinding her for seconds at a time. The Doctor danced in the gleam, at ease...

This was my favourite part of this story, a really interesting way of describing the TARDIS because in a way she's almost indescribable, but you totally catch her here.


I also really like the rushing of Clara's thoughts, like a kind of rushing of the rivers coming together, how your writing just weaves in and out of the maelstrom of her mind.

I found this a really well executed portrait of Clara :)