Somehow or other, you'd wound up in a graveyard with the Doctor. You'd been exploring an unfamiliar city on Earth, somewhere in... Where'd he say? Belgium, maybe? You really weren't sure. What you did know was that the architecture was beyond gorgeous. It was old, and it gave the city an old-fashioned charm that you couldn't help but adore.

The two of you had had lunch together (with dessert because why not?) and been around to the least busy spots. You'd taken pictures, bought yourself a souvenir or two, read some plaques, all of that good touristy stuff. And now, you were in the graveyard.

It has been the peace and silence that drew you there. That sort of gentle quiet where only the wind made any sound, seeming to carry with it whispers of the fallen souls whose bodies were buried below. You wondered, offhandedly, whether any of the buried people still had descendants or other family members alive today. You rather hoped so. It was a rather sad thing, the death of an entire bloodline. After all, no two were alike.

You'd been separated from the Doctor at this point in your thoughts, and you'd come to stop in front of a large angel statue, staring up at it like it held the answers to everything.

You blinked, and you felt a horrible rush of air as something lunged toward you. You reeled back, eyes snapping open in terror, and the Doctor (when did he get there? You needed to put a bell on him) caught you in his arms.

"Don't blink, {{user}}," he breathed, staring intently at the not-statue. "Whatever you do, don't blink. That's not a statue."