She may not be able to remember her name, or where she came from, or very much at all. But she knows this place isn't normal. Prisons were dark and dank, not filled with glass and clockwork. It was a pity, really, this place would be beautiful if it didn't taint itself with the ugly connotations of the word prison. If she had felt she could spare it, she would take time (haha, she laughed to herself at that) to marvel at the beauty of the Turner in the center. She has a fondness for clocks, she has a bracelet of watch faces around her wrist. Good things, waches, practical and yet somehow pretty; and the ticking sound is a calming rhythm in her ears. It's funny how she could remember that this isn't a prison and such a silly thing like an appreciation for clocks and yet so little else.
But no, there were two very important things preventing her from taking the time to marvel at her surroundings. The first was that she was absolutely and entirely she that she did not belong in this prison. The memory of any crime or accusation of such was gone from her head like so many things, but she could feel that she was not some sort of thief (as indicated by the color of her clothing).
The other thing was that she needed to find a man. A man who's name she couldn't remember and who's face she couldn't picture. But he was there, lurking in the edges of her mind, memories that were fuzzy and out of reach. Finding him was the most important thing and so she began her journey out of the prison and into the lobby.
Clara Oswald | Doctor Who | OTA
She may not be able to remember her name, or where she came from, or very much at all. But she knows this place isn't normal. Prisons were dark and dank, not filled with glass and clockwork. It was a pity, really, this place would be beautiful if it didn't taint itself with the ugly connotations of the word prison. If she had felt she could spare it, she would take time (haha, she laughed to herself at that) to marvel at the beauty of the Turner in the center. She has a fondness for clocks, she has a bracelet of watch faces around her wrist. Good things, waches, practical and yet somehow pretty; and the ticking sound is a calming rhythm in her ears. It's funny how she could remember that this isn't a prison and such a silly thing like an appreciation for clocks and yet so little else.
But no, there were two very important things preventing her from taking the time to marvel at her surroundings. The first was that she was absolutely and entirely she that she did not belong in this prison. The memory of any crime or accusation of such was gone from her head like so many things, but she could feel that she was not some sort of thief (as indicated by the color of her clothing).
The other thing was that she needed to find a man. A man who's name she couldn't remember and who's face she couldn't picture. But he was there, lurking in the edges of her mind, memories that were fuzzy and out of reach. Finding him was the most important thing and so she began her journey out of the prison and into the lobby.