Burning Cosmos {A Torchwood Story Three} [COMPLETED]

23. Fires Of Pompeii

Evelina's POV

With a burst of golden smoke I fall to the ground, my lips pressed into gritty dirt. The first thing I do is groan in pain - an arm-worn time travel device may be an impressive thing to create in one afternoon, but there's never enough time to invent a soft landing.

I stand up as soon as I feel my legs. Right, where am I? Away from Cardiff, I hope; I need to be somewhere else for a while, to process. Learning that your entire family died for you is a heavy thing to get over. Perhaps here I can find something that lifts it enough to be bearable; a glimmer of hope that humanity is good, despite it all.

A typical ancient Roman street, by the looks of the simple stone walls and traditional clothing. Where in Rome, and when in time, though? I find myself grinning maniacally, the way only Time Lords do. Questions, questions, and all for me to find! Goody goody!

But as soon as I put one step forward, the ground beneath it starts to rumble. Dirt jumps in sprays across the marketplace as shop owners and customers alike stumble to save wares. The expressions on their faces display routine and exasperation - this isn't their first rodeo.

Once the earthquake is more stable, I walk further into the market. Dodging wanderers and disregarding offers, I spot a high ledge and grip onto the lip to hitch myself up. On the highest point of the area, I stand up on the rock and look out into the town... to see something I really shouldn't've.

Pompeii. It's Pompeii, before the volcano. How long before, I don't know, but I know that I can't be there when the day comes, otherwise I'll never get home.

Panicked, my mind immediately turns to the people. Can I save them? Just a few? I couldn't save my family, but I could save these unsuspecting civilians. In a mad thought, I look to my time armband, as if I could take ancient Romans to another timeline. Yeah, right: I can't even get it to plot coordinates before it sets off; maybe it's something to do with the difference to other Gallifreyan-made technology?

I lower myself to sit on the rock, my legs swinging over the edge. I need to think, but the overarching panic of volcano day is scrambling my brain.

WHOOSH!!

Someone runs under my legs, causing them to bend back and send my flying back down to earth. Once again I get a faceful of dirt, and as I spit it out I shout after the hooded figure, "Oi, come back!"

The person doesn't pause or turn, keeps running, so I pursue them, dashing through streets and jumping around stalls and customers. Hell nah are they getting away with toppling me; if I were a human, that might've killed me!

We run through most of Pompeii until the cloaked silhouette disappears, leaving me stopped in confusion next to a stall. The owner offers me a crate of chickens but I wave him away, concentrating. If I were running away in a cloak in Pompeii, where would I go?

Aha!
In a flash of inspiration I turn a corner round the back of the marketplace and scan around for a crack in the wall, where one might be lead somewhere possibly underground. I quickly spot it and squeeze myself through to find myself in a large dark decorated room. It's made to look like a boudoir, a private chamber, with a long table in the centre and a massive bed swathed with netting. If I squint it looks like there's someone underneath the material, but I can't be sure until I look closer.

My ears pick up footsteps, before I turn around and make out the swish of a cloak identical to the one I saw. Even in my Time Lord-y powers, I can't move fast enough for the brown-haired girl to lower her hood and stare at me.
"Who are you?" she asks. "You are not promised to the Sibylline Sisterhood."
"The Sibylline what-now?" This isn't the Pompeii I'm just now remembering from trips with my family long ago; what kind of people run under a red cloak to a smoky chamber with eyes painted on their hands?

Before the girl can reply, another set of footsteps come nearer, and so by instinct I take the girl's arm and hide us both in a side room curtained off from the chamber. She immediately lets go of me like I'm made of fire, and I frown at her wrist covered in gold cloth.
"God, what's under there, pure bone? Your wrist is hard as..."

My voice falters as I unsheath her forearm and it comes into full view. Half of her arm is solid stone, yet the rest of her including her hand is soft white skin. What could do this? I've certainly never met such forces.

She snatches her arm back. "I am promised to the Sisterhood," she whispers, carefully rewrapping the cloth. "The Sisters say that I must breathe in the vapours from the ground for strength, and the marks I bear-"
"Marks! These aren't marks; you're turning into stone!" I protest. "How did vapours turn your arm into stone? What's making these vapours?"
She frowns, some kind of sickness visible in the dark circles under her eyes. "You do not question the Sisterhood; they take care of me. Why are you here?"
I look around in alert wariness. "It appears that I was brought here to help."

I look to her again after drinking in the surroundings, and her hands are pressed to her eyes. The eyes painted on the backs of her hands stalk me eerily as I ask the girl, "What are you doing? What are the eyes for?"
She's silent. I'm not even sure if she's listening to me. Should I leave her here? But as soon as I think of moving, even more women in the same makeup and clothing file into the room. I stick my back to the curtains and peer round the sides, watching. Deducing my next move.

The women kneel to the cobblestones, their mauve robes placed around them in a circle. A knot forms in my stomach at the sight of so many red cloaks, but I push the memory aside to focus on them.
They all mimic the girl, placing their hands over their eyes to show the stencilled eyes on their hands. What are they for? Oh no... Did I stumble into some kind of ancient Roman cult?

The woman in the front speaks, with all the grandiose of a performer. "High Priestess! Our sisters have news of infidels, appearing from the air and intent on knowing more of us."
"Then let them." A rasping voice comes from the covered longue, and my eyebrows dip further. No human can have a voice that low. No, that silhouette may look human, but whatever it is it spells even more trouble for the citizens of Pompeii, I'm sure.

The raven-haired leader speaks again, a desperate look on her face. "But Priestess, they are after us! There is one already in our chamber!"
My eyes open wider, and my whole body freezes as my head turns to the girl standing next to me. She still has her hands over her eyes. The pencilled eyes must be some way of communicating!

Well, I'm fucked then.

As soon as I hear footsteps I bolt, dodging the ladies' lunges and sliding under the high table in a mad dash the way I came. I hear a shout to follow me but I'm past caring, focused on getting out of this place and getting the citizens of Pompeii outta here.

I emerge underneath a stone bridge next to the marketplace, completely discombobulated. Frantic footsteps follow me and I start running again, through the stalls, turning ever corner I see to throw them off the scent.

But I never thought that one of those corners would take me to them.

I stand, a cloud of sand spitting around me in my sudden stillness, staring at the Doctor and Donna Noble placed only a few feet away from me. They haven't noticed my presence, looking upwards instead at Vesuvius - but soon they'll find me.

And after the last time I saw the Doctor, I don't really want him to find me for a while. I know I said I wanted to, but you really should never meet you hero.

I look at my time travel arm device, but somehow it's bashed. I press a button. Nothing. I press more buttons; still nothing, except for a small puff of smoke. I need a few days to fix it - but how many more does this place have?

I'm stuck between a Time Lord and a cult.

How do I keep getting myself into these messes?