You may. It's a silent little acceptance, visible only from the quirk i the corner of her mouth and the way the tension leaks out of her brow, the way that small '11' of crinkles on her forehead vanishes for just a moment.
"It's not pretty, though," she warns. There's blood and guts in there. There's the memory of biting Ammit's head off and swallowing it, of hacking her way through Sobek's faithful as if they're vines in the jungle, of Sobek pouring all his many, many legacies of hate and despair into her head. It's almost too much ugliness for her little body to carry, so it feels like it's seeping from the corners of her body. Her sweat is brutal, her spit violent, all this awfulness that can't be contained in skin and bone just dripping from her.
The Doctor is old, she knows. The Doctor's seen ugly, but there is some part of her that still wants to impress him. Not to be his human, obviously, but to be his equal. Someone he'll stand by with respect and say "you were wrong, you are more than the sum of your species and genetics" to. How will he ever see her that way now?
Re: Eleven and Eva
"It's not pretty, though," she warns. There's blood and guts in there. There's the memory of biting Ammit's head off and swallowing it, of hacking her way through Sobek's faithful as if they're vines in the jungle, of Sobek pouring all his many, many legacies of hate and despair into her head. It's almost too much ugliness for her little body to carry, so it feels like it's seeping from the corners of her body. Her sweat is brutal, her spit violent, all this awfulness that can't be contained in skin and bone just dripping from her.
The Doctor is old, she knows. The Doctor's seen ugly, but there is some part of her that still wants to impress him. Not to be his human, obviously, but to be his equal. Someone he'll stand by with respect and say "you were wrong, you are more than the sum of your species and genetics" to. How will he ever see her that way now?
She rests her cheek in his hand.