Who: Jenny Noble What: Time Lord - still cooking! Where: The ground. She's got new legs, ready to staaaa- wait, a minute, wrong fandom. When: Tuesday, March 3. Morning. Warnings: Low. Moody Time Lord. Status: Open!
Vortex manipulators are not a kind way to travel, but she's never known the luxury of a Tardis. This is the best she's got, and at the moment, she's in a considerable bit of a lurch. She needs to travel fast and far from this place, and she's on fire. Literal fire. And also, regenerative fire. Red, orange, yellow fire - stop, drop, and roll. But golden fire, oh, that's a whole other problem entirely. She isn't even looking as she types in random coordinates. She needs to be somewhere. /ANYWHERE/. She doesn't care.
. . . you know, later, she's going to care a lot.
The initial explosion of regenerative energy happens just as she pops out of one place and into another. The entire process is unkind, and she's fairly certain she puked in the momentary vastness of time of space. Good job, Jenny. Top marks. When she lands in the domed city, it's disgraceful - face down, on the ground, and she groans, allowing a golden bit of energy to escape her lips. She feels a bit like that time she and Jack tried to test their personal limits of hyper vodka then decided neither of them wanted to die that way. She attempts to prop herself up, just to get a look around, but everything is too much of blurry haze and she settles back down to the ground with another pained groan and subsequent release of golden energy.