Eva's not quite sure what barometer the Doctor uses to determine 'interesting', given that they've already found a shoe tree and been attack by malevolent plants, but it's certainly not hers. She finds the entire forest rather interesting, but then again she lived in Southern California. Snow is relatively unusual to her.
That said, she would agree with the Doctor. There is a vague sense of foreboding lingering around the periphery, like something she can't quite focus her eyes on but knows is there. Like it exists in the blanks between objects, the very invisible air, the negative spaces between the trees and their spidery frozen branches.
She called this place the Phantom Tollbooth because it was a book she read Marco, at first, and because the blue box reminded her less of a police object than of a tollbooth. She insisted on keeping the name because it proved to be a more accurate representation than she'd imagined. A magical, nonsensical world that, though its sense of wonder, imbued the rest of the world with similar beauty.
She'd thought that would be the one upside to seeing space, but she was so locked into her own despair at the time - and despair is too kind a word for it, but for all humanity's pain, they've never found a phrase to describe that sort of absolute hopelessness - and she couldn't see any of the glory of space travel and other worlds.
She didn't see the stars. She saw the blackness between them. The negative space.
"A boat!" Eva's face lights up a little. Enthusiasm shines through her expression, which has been getting gradually more pensive and melancholy as they walked. Maybe that's how the forest will kill them, with melancholy and the loneliness of walking beside another person lost in their own head. "It's finished enough for me. Where do you think we're taking it to?"
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That said, she would agree with the Doctor. There is a vague sense of foreboding lingering around the periphery, like something she can't quite focus her eyes on but knows is there. Like it exists in the blanks between objects, the very invisible air, the negative spaces between the trees and their spidery frozen branches.
She called this place the Phantom Tollbooth because it was a book she read Marco, at first, and because the blue box reminded her less of a police object than of a tollbooth. She insisted on keeping the name because it proved to be a more accurate representation than she'd imagined. A magical, nonsensical world that, though its sense of wonder, imbued the rest of the world with similar beauty.
She'd thought that would be the one upside to seeing space, but she was so locked into her own despair at the time - and despair is too kind a word for it, but for all humanity's pain, they've never found a phrase to describe that sort of absolute hopelessness - and she couldn't see any of the glory of space travel and other worlds.
She didn't see the stars. She saw the blackness between them. The negative space.
"A boat!" Eva's face lights up a little. Enthusiasm shines through her expression, which has been getting gradually more pensive and melancholy as they walked. Maybe that's how the forest will kill them, with melancholy and the loneliness of walking beside another person lost in their own head. "It's finished enough for me. Where do you think we're taking it to?"