For a moment, the TARDIS looks at Gabriel as though she doesn't know whether to answer his question in the positive or negative. But then she pulls herself together, schools her features into something a little more contained, and nods faintly.
"I'm sorry," she says, addressing both of them equally, too shaken right now to remember her intense dislike of Peter. There's no telling what her powers could do to others if they went unchecked in the telepathic current, so for once he had every right to be scared. "On the real Caerdroia, I used the cow bells to relay part of a message to the Doctor, because I was barred from reaching him directly..." Somehow she feels the need to justify herself, to rationalize what happened to herself as well as to the others. But her explanation is disjointed and non-linear, partly due to her underlying distress, and partly because she can never tell which details of a story might be more important than others.
"The entire world is always the labyrinth; that is why it is so difficult to dismantle its dimensions, because removing one wall simply reveals another. But it was hidden behind projections taken from the minds of the Doctor and his companions. The cows weren't the only thing I influenced..." Recalling the whole thing in detail really isn't helping her composure, or her ability to think linearly. The sound of an incongruous cuckoo clock tower rings across the hills, much closer than the view of the town would suggest.
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"I'm sorry," she says, addressing both of them equally, too shaken right now to remember her intense dislike of Peter. There's no telling what her powers could do to others if they went unchecked in the telepathic current, so for once he had every right to be scared. "On the real Caerdroia, I used the cow bells to relay part of a message to the Doctor, because I was barred from reaching him directly..." Somehow she feels the need to justify herself, to rationalize what happened to herself as well as to the others. But her explanation is disjointed and non-linear, partly due to her underlying distress, and partly because she can never tell which details of a story might be more important than others.
"The entire world is always the labyrinth; that is why it is so difficult to dismantle its dimensions, because removing one wall simply reveals another. But it was hidden behind projections taken from the minds of the Doctor and his companions. The cows weren't the only thing I influenced..." Recalling the whole thing in detail really isn't helping her composure, or her ability to think linearly. The sound of an incongruous cuckoo clock tower rings across the hills, much closer than the view of the town would suggest.