[ As the ritual begins to wind down to its completion, the chanting becomes louder, the words coming out of her as authoritatively as possible. She's trying to hold onto her control as she feels that last surge of magic, knowing it's almost over. But so does the fear, and it latches on like a parasite, doubling down.
The Doctor lies, the Doctor leaves. He's never believed in you and now he's left you to die; why bother saving a failure? You've let everyone else die, perhaps it's your turn. Nothing about you is worth knowing, worth remembering or keeping. The Doctor keeps telling you and you keep thinking you're better than. You won't die so we will. You'll fail at this like you failed to make a difference in the Doctor's life.
Clara's words feel choked out forcefully, her fear trying to cut her off at the source. It feels like her mind is being ripped apart and she's shouting the words to the ritual, fighting back with her belief in the Doctor. She blocks out the hate, the words she refuses to believe. On another day it might've worked, but today, she's stronger. The Doctor has already made her feel like she can fight back by making her a sonic - he believes in her enough to make a tool no one else has ever had but him. The fear can't win, she won't let it.
As soon as the tower goes down, the fear dissipates and Clara opens her eyes, finding herself on her hands and knees panting. She's done and looks for Tech and the Doctor as a smile of success begins to make its way across her lips. Before it blossoms into anything bigger, she feels a pinch at her waist and looks down. There's an exit wound with smoke rising out of it, and with a delay, Clara realizes something's happened to her after all. Trying to stand, she stumbles and falls instead, legs crumpling beneath her as she falls onto her side.
The Sylphid comes out of the brush to finish the job, weapon out, ready to fire. There's nothing Clara can do, too weak from the ritual to try and fight back. She watches blood stain the grass and waits for the inevitable darkness. ]
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The Doctor lies, the Doctor leaves. He's never believed in you and now he's left you to die; why bother saving a failure? You've let everyone else die, perhaps it's your turn. Nothing about you is worth knowing, worth remembering or keeping. The Doctor keeps telling you and you keep thinking you're better than. You won't die so we will. You'll fail at this like you failed to make a difference in the Doctor's life.
Clara's words feel choked out forcefully, her fear trying to cut her off at the source. It feels like her mind is being ripped apart and she's shouting the words to the ritual, fighting back with her belief in the Doctor. She blocks out the hate, the words she refuses to believe. On another day it might've worked, but today, she's stronger. The Doctor has already made her feel like she can fight back by making her a sonic - he believes in her enough to make a tool no one else has ever had but him. The fear can't win, she won't let it.
As soon as the tower goes down, the fear dissipates and Clara opens her eyes, finding herself on her hands and knees panting. She's done and looks for Tech and the Doctor as a smile of success begins to make its way across her lips. Before it blossoms into anything bigger, she feels a pinch at her waist and looks down. There's an exit wound with smoke rising out of it, and with a delay, Clara realizes something's happened to her after all. Trying to stand, she stumbles and falls instead, legs crumpling beneath her as she falls onto her side.
The Sylphid comes out of the brush to finish the job, weapon out, ready to fire. There's nothing Clara can do, too weak from the ritual to try and fight back. She watches blood stain the grass and waits for the inevitable darkness. ]