Song and sounds, motors and whistles. Mechanisms unknown to all but very few were what she was made of. Complexity beyond measure, a living sentient creature housed in a machine, and she was old. Very, very old. Older even than her Thief, the quirky Time Lord, estranged from his own species, who wanted to run away and see the Universe as much as she did.

Old and clever. Old, clever, and with a rare opportunity. While she and the Thief had been traveling, she had detected an unusually strong source of energy; a deep rift in time and space. She was only a little low on energy, but an idea sparked in her thoughts, her dreamy golden thoughts deep in the heart of the impossible machine.  She pulled herself off course to land on the rift. Her Thief muttered and mumbled, making some excuse as to why he didn’t land where he meant to. She was amused by this, and attempted to console him with her song, playing a gentle little tune of apology around his ears, knowing very well he could hear it even if he chose to ignore her.

He knew he would be stuck there for awhile. She told him so, in no uncertain terms, with her song, but she didn’t give a hint as to why. He was used to that. He assumed. Oh, my Thief, you are in for such a surprise…