westwhere | the snow falls down, it's a magnificent signt

Entry tags:

the snow falls down, it's a magnificent signt

WHO: Clara and you + any closed starters as requested
WHEN: December
WHERE: Around the inn and the grounds
WHAT: Shenanigans, direwolves, bathhouses, and more
WARNINGS: Will change if needed, but for now none

❅ 𝐵𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠

Once Clara finds a routine at the inn, a fair amount of time is spent in the kitchen. It's the warmest there, and she promises to go out and gather things for their meals. A sudden influx of people is no small thing, and Clara's nothing if not helpful. Keeping busy helps her thoughts stay focused instead of wandering toward feelings about her time with the Doctor. She never wanted him to know how he died, but at least Red's assured her that he shouldn't remember. That's enough to keep Clara from worrying the Doctor might try and do something to stop her from saving his life, because she knows he would if he could.

In the kitchen most mornings because it's easiest to gauge what might be needed, she's glancing over the list and hums, calling out to the last person to add something.

"I don't see a number on the black trumpet mushrooms. How many, or should I forage with my heart?"

❅ 𝐵𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝐼𝐼

Red-cheeked from being outside, Clara bounds into the kitchen with her basket overflowing, setting it on the counter to let the cooks pick through. There's a hearth with a fire and a stool which seems quite cozy, so she helps herself. A bucket of beans is thrust at her and she's asked to shell, so she does, happily. Some of her favorite memories with her mum were in their kitchen, and Clara starts humming a tune to herself from home, a random one she used to sing to Artie to help him sleep.

There's a second stool for company and she doesn't hesitate to smile softly when someone drops by.

"Feel sort of like a happier, better-taken care of Cinderella, sitting here." She knows it's 50-50 on if the story is known or not, but she's happy to tell it.

❅ 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑠

Clara's found the wooliest of scarves and borrowed it for her trips out during the day. She's vaguely aware of the danger of wolves, but she has her new sword with her—not that she knows how to use it properly—and it's tucked in her pocket. She didn't understand at first, but it's convenient that it's only large when she puts the hilt of it in her hand. The rest of the time, it's pocket-sized.

When she hears the crunch of snow behind her, Clara stops and turns her head to the side, listening.

"Hello?"

If it's wolves, her plan is to just sort of...run, but she's also betting wolves aren't so loud if hunting. Fingers crossed.

❅ 𝑏𝑎𝑡ℎℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒

Quietly thanking the ancient Romans and Greeks for this idea, Clara sinks into the warmer waters of the bathhouse after taking a quick dip in the cold. It's the first time she's truly relaxed since before she was even pulled into this place. She'd begged for the Doctor's life, been granted her wish for him to live, and after a few minutes of relief, the man she knew was gone. A new face, a new set of rules that included pushing her as far away as possible without actually telling her to go. Then Clara was here, no time to breathe in between. River's assured her it gets better in time, but if people really don't remember anything about this world when they go back to their own, then what? She'll lose the hope she has now.

It's much easier not to think about it, though her aura's a little more hued toward a pastel blue, just the slightest tinge of sadness. So much happened in Serthica that her mind wants to shut it all out, box it up and ignore it.

Hair messily pulled up in a ponytail, she's up to her neck in the water when she hears footsteps and opens her eyes. Finally, her chance.

"Do you know they charge an insane amount of money to use the bathhouse in Lancashire? Of course, they call it a 'spa' and offer massages, but still. It's water. No need to try and make it something fancier than it is."

❅ 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑘𝑒

Has she ever been great at skating? No. Is she attempting it anyway? Yes. She's not wobbly, but she isn't that fast either, taking her time making loops around the hard ice. The last time she'd skated was with an ex who'd literally skated away after she'd dumped Clara. It's funny now, in hindsight—she can't even remember why they broke up it was so long ago.

She's smiling at the memory when she's suddenly knocked off her feet, not by someone bumping into her, but because something hit her feet from below. Struggling to get up, her eyes widen in alarm as through the opaque ice she just barely sees a shadow.

"No, not today."

She absolutely is not getting involved with anything terrifying, but she can't quite get her feet under her again. Managing to make it to her hands and knees, she doesn't look up; instead, she's still staring at the ice as the shadow continues, making her wonder how big, exactly, it is.

❅ 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒

Clara didn't even have a chance to register what was happening before it was, pulled in by a group she doesn't know and given very loose rules for a drinking game. 'Where's the water?' is new to her, shot glasses full of clear spirits, and some with water. It takes her a few tries to pull out a convincing lie, but by then her throat is numb anyway. After four shots, she's pleasantly warm, and her laughter cuts through the air. Her eyes light up and she reaches out to pull in someone simply walking by, a light touch on a wrist, dimpled smile beaming upward.

"Can you bluff, and can you bluff well?"

❅ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑑

[ ooc: hmu with anything your heart desires. CR comment is here. I'll match prose or brackets, whatever you're comfortable with. Reach out on discord @ lifewasawillow#5524 or PM! Quite willing to do a ton more, but if I keep writing prompts you'll all have a novel to pick through, whoops. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anduin has been spending -- a great deal of time in the hot springs, if he's being honest with himself. He supposes it isn't a bad thing. He is supposed to be relaxing here, and he's promised himself that he will actually relax.

It's just something about the heat of the water on the aches of his body. Discomforts he has gotten used to healing away with the power of the Light, or simply just ignoring. They had said that these springs have healing properties though. And while he knows that there are some things that they will not be able to do in the way of fixing him -- it certainly is nice to just feel better, for a time.

Understandably, he is not the only one who shares such sentiments about the springs. It takes him a moment to recognize Clara, given these circumstances are quite different from their last encounter. He offers her a smile in return to the words, hugging his robe more tightly around himself in a vaguely self-conscious gesture.

"I cannot say I know of this place you speak of, but I am familiar with such business practices," he offers. "Trade Prince Gallywix is rumored to have a 'Pleasure Palace', in western Azshara, in the world where I am from. Though I have never been there, I have heard there is a luxury pool, a sauna, and... A golf course?" He raises his eyebrows at the thought.

((ooc: let me know if this is okay or if you want me to change anything! i didn't get to toss a comment at you on the cr meme but i loved their earlier thread and i'd love more cr between them ;3; ))

Clara recognizes his voice before she recognizes him, but once she does she smiles warmly before sighing and closing her eyes to give him whatever privacy he might need to get into the water. She's comfortable and respectful, and wants the company.

"'Pleasure Palace' means something very different in my world. I'm assuming. Still relaxing, though, I bet." She snorts a little in laughter, opening one eye to look at him again before closing them.

"You lost me at golf. That's any world's most boring sport. I would, however, happily swim in the pool and sweat in the sauna." Pausing, she thinks back, trying to remember his name.

"...Andowin?" she asks, not quite right, but maybe close, opening both eyes in hopeful confirmation as she looks up at him.

[ ooc: absolute perfection! ]

It likely means something very similar to the goblins, but Anduin is not of the Horde and therefore has never been invited and will never know.

He's grateful for the privacy offered to him. Not because he's particularly ashamed of himself. He is... Physically fit. He has to be, to wear the decorative plate armor required of his position. And to wield Shalamayne. It was his father's sword, but since the throne is his now... So is Shalamayne, and the expectation that he know how to fight with it.

No, it's the scars that trouble him the most. And there are quite a few of them. Injuries that even the Prophet Velen could not heal away entirely. Setting his towel aside, Anduin sheds his robe and uses the moment she has given him to slide into the water himself. The heat of it shocking against the cold, but forcing himself to submerge chest-deep even so. Concealing the worst of it.

"Ah, Anduin," he corrects gently, with a smile. "But you were close. It is good to meet you again under much more pleasant circumstances than before."

"Damn. I won't forget again," she promises, though she's smiling in good humor. She's glad to know, and considering their last meeting was stressful, she appreciates his correction. How embarrassing if she'd gone on forever saying his name wrong.

"And likewise. Here's hoping all of this is a good sign of less chaotic times to come. Less dead things and more solving things, please. Could do with less mental manipulation while we're at it."

Serthica had been an intense experience, to say the very least. "We've all earned this."

Anduin waves off her mistake with a gesture of his hand. It's really no bother to him, and honestly she was close! He appreciates that she made any effort at all to remember him, really.

Sinking back into the water, he offers her a smile.

"We have earned this," he agrees. "Though I'm a little surprised that the Merchant has recognized as much. Given previous experiences..." He winces slightly, supposing he may be saying too much. Maybe one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth as they say. All the same. "If I'm honest, it's a little too good to be true, winding up here. Maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time relaxing here. Or... Maybe I just don't know how to relax anymore."

Either could be a possibility really.

❅ 𝑏𝑎𝑡ℎℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒

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drinking game

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through the woods

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Through the woods

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❅ 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑘𝑒

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