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"The estate belongs to an... organization I work for. I've been sent to appraise it," not too far from the truth, "but I was under the impression that it was ...vacant."

Sasha cleared her throat and watched the needles flash, a heartbeat's stretch of time before she spoke again.

"The mistress?" She paused. "Who are you?"

Sasha's eyes widened as she unwillingly took a step back, brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry, I.. I just want to know what's going on here, what happened here. I didn't mean to upset you, I apologize," Sasha's voice broke, the sentence ending with a croak.

She made no move to leave the rectory.

Sasha was torn between rushing towards the old woman's side in order to assist her, or running blindly from the room. In the end she chose neither, instead backing towards the door on unsteady feet.

"I don't understand! I haven't done anything!"

Sasha fumbled for the handle of the door behind her, assuring her escape and yet making no move to actively leave the room. What harm could the old, decrepit woman bring to her?

"I'm not here to upset you, it was never my intent. I'm sorry - je suis désolé, je suis désolé! Please, won't you sit? Tell me, explain to me what's got you so upset, madame."

The woman's screech nearly mimicked Nona's own, the weapon writhing with rage. Sasha was helpless for a brief moment, those claws digging into the skin of her face. It was pure agony, that feeling of utter helplessness paired with the desperate urge to escape.

Sasha lifted a hand to grasp the woman's wrist, and with all of her strength Sasha fought to remove herself from the woman's grasp. The sudden realization that she'd bitten off more than she could chew - that she should have left when the woman first started towards her - hit Sasha like a ton of bricks.

"I don't want to have to hurt you," Sasha rasped roughly, pain arcing through her jaw with each spoken word. "I don't want to have to hurt you, but if you don't let me go..."

Sasha was free, but she didn't move away fast enough. The woman's hand caught her across the face, and Sasha's head set to spinning. She had no idea what the crone was babbling about, and at this point she didn't want to stick around to find out. The only problem was opening the door - she had to move forward in order to slip out, and Sasha was hesitant to do so.

She didn't antagonize the woman further, instead slipping to the side and edging out of the door as soon as there was enough space for her to escape. Backing out of the room, Sasha stumbled, refusing to turn her back on the old woman who spoke in riddles and screeched with great ferocity about the babbies.

Sasha tripped over something that appeared to have once been a pew, crying out softly as she thudded to the ground. Pedaling backwards, Sasha panted, watching the doorway with wide eyes.

Sasha struggled to her feet and swung an about-face, bee-lining for the front door of the cathedral. She hadn't gotten any answers from her small investigation - if anything, she had more questions than anything else. It had been a frustrating experience, not to mention terrifying.

She didn't stop running until she'd made it back to the gardeners shed, and Sasha debated her options.

Scrambling for her phone, Sasha prepared a short text.



She knew that this wasn't the Doctor's most preferred method of communication, but he could respond when - and how - he wished.

Sasha wanted nothing more than to take a shower, but she settled for wiping herself down with some wet-naps while she waited for some sort of response.

It certainly wasn't the response she'd hoped for, but part of her had almost expected it. Grunting in annoyance, Sasha stuffed the phone into her pocket and considered her options.

There weren't many.

Hesitant to approach the house even during the light of day, Sasha contemplated the chapel again. She didn't want to face the old woman again, but there was the other room to explore.

Rubbing her forehead, Sasha let out a low groan before starting back towards the chapel, prepared to run at any sign of danger. She paused before entering, listening for any sort of movement that might indicate a maddened old woman - or anything else.

Moving as quietly as she possibly could, Sasha crept to the door on the left. She tried the handle, and would open it as silently as she could if the door was not locked.