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

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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. ]

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His door -- meaning their door, but Anduin doesn't correct her on that one. Especially not if Wrathion had not given her that little piece of information. Everything between them is still new, and he respects Wrathion is a private person who tends to hold his cards somewhat closer to his chest than most.

Might it bother him that they are talking about him now? Perhaps. But Anduin isn't planning on revealing anything too personal about his companion. Or about himself, necessarily.

"For... Five? Six years now?" he replies, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he considers it. "Our friendship has been -- rocky, at times." Like that one point where Wrathion had released a war criminal and thus started off a cascade of events that resulted in a demon invasion, Anduin's father's death, and him inheriting the throne. "But we have both been through quite a lot, over the years since. And grown from it."

He flicks a glance aside at her, his smile widening slightly as he continues, "I can tell you with confidence that he always has had a flair for the dramatics. If anything, it has probably tempered itself over the years, if you can imagine." Likely as Wrathion's decisions came back to bite him and he learned the hard way what he should and should not do.

It appears to be, yes. Convenient for you, if it adapts to your abilities.

[But even as it changes size... Moran runs a hand along the blade, giving a tap that rings out.]

It's good steel, at the very least, even if I've never seen steel that could change shape in this way.

Do you have any experience at all fighting with a blade.

Clara cackles happily and turn it around they do. Which is good, because her size in general means her tolerance isn't all that high. Now, she's just easy to laugh, happily flushed.

"I dunno about you, but I happen to think we make an amazing team. A-plus at drinking games."

[ Clara likes to think she's more than just a good teacher. She enjoys learning too, and doesn't shy away from much. ]

If—I mean if you wouldn't mind, just because of the nature of this planet, do you think you could teach me more than just this? What if we go somewhere with no markets, no kitchens?

[ There are other people who could probably teach her too, the Doctor for one, but she likes Vanessa. There's something about her, she seems determined but sad, and besides. She needs to add to her 'succinct speakers' collection.

Clara's kneeling, looking at the trap. ]

Your friend sounds smart.

[ It's such a sincere request that Vanessa knows there's no way she can deny it, but the idea of passing on such knowledge has honestly never occurred to her. Joan would probably put her through a test before daring to use her precious time on any further lessons.

Though the memories are painful, there's fondness as she thinks about Joan. She often wonders how her friend would react to some of the insanity presented in this world. ]

She was.

[ If she can find another trap that's caught something, then Vanessa can show Clara how to set it back up. The next one is likewise undisturbed, though, and Vanessa doesn't want to leave more of her scent than necessary. Prey animals don't seem to like her much. ]

What else would you wish to learn? [ She'll glance back to Clara, remembering that she mentioned a sword, although Vanessa can't see one... ] Do you know how to skin animals? Repurpose their skins and hides?

I'm sorry.

[ Talking about people in the past tense, Clara's default is to assume they died. It seems to be the tense she talks about the people she loves. Her mum was. Her best friend was. The Doctor—her Doctor—was. She doesn't ask what happened, deaths are so personal. Clara's careful who she tells what, exactly, happened to her mother and Sabine, because thinking about it makes her feel like the world is collapsing in on itself.

Letting out a breath, Clara shakes her head and can't help but let out just a small laugh. It isn't at Vanessa, just the thought of anyone in her family teaching her anything like that. ]

No and no, but learning would be good. I can cook pretty well, so I think I could make decent food out of the meat and vegetation. What I'm rubbish at, is gardening. My green thumb doesn't exist, like, at all. I've tried to will it into existence so many times and each time I leave a sad, dead plant in my wake.

"Oh. Yes. Well. We were teenagers, and I hardly had anyone to compare her to at the time." And hardly anyone to compare her to now, but no need to advertise that. "But it was... certainly enjoyable." That's the most discreet way she can think to put it.

"My parents had spent the evening trying to foist me off on 'eligible matches,' but every one of them was insufferable. So I abandoned the gala to spend time with someone whose company actually seemed agreeable. I thought she might like to see my firearm collection, and one thing led to another."

Clara knows that Wrathion and Anduin know one another, but she doesn't know anything else. She'd be delighted, if she did. She may have tucked her own heart away, but she's still a cheerleader for others finding their person. Anduin's words strike a chord, and she thinks about the Doctor, the things they've been through together. Maybe she can ask a few very specific hypotheticals. About friendship, of course.

"Does he remember everything between you? Are you from the same time, I mean. Those rocky moments and all of your favorite time spent with him."

I kinda love that I have a magic sword, dunno what made me want to pick it up. Because the answer to that question is a resounding 'no.'

[ Clara smiles at him sheepishly. She knows she needs work. ]

But I'm serious about learning. I've already been through so much in this place, I think I need to adapt.

[ She'll pass a glance of somber acknowledgment for Clara's consolation. It was long ago now, and there's no reason to talk about it. She understands that Clara has known loss, though, and there's almost a sad smile of appreciation before moving on.

She clutches her skirts in one hand whenever she's forced to take larger steps. ]

I know plants, but I have no skill at growing them. I suppose that most of what I've learned tends to favor the value in something's death. There is always something beyond its initial purpose.

[ Is she talking about drying herbs, or something else? It's anyone's guess, going by her cryptic expression when responding. Any hint of an earlier smile is gone and her pale gaze is only focused on their surroundings and where they're next headed. ]

Well, the first lesson is, this pointy bit [he points at it with a smile] goes into the other person.

[Okay, that might not be his best joke, but he's used to bantering with people who have known him his whole life and would find it hilarious.]

Until you've learned to be more comfortable with it, if you need to use it, aim for the gut. Gut wounds are very painful, they're extremely disabling, and hard to heal.

Clara laughs in delight, but then she wrinkles her nose at the arranged marriage part.

"You were right to show her the guns, would've worked on me, totally. But that's rubbish of your parents. Is it a cultural thing or a royal thing?" Either way, it doesn't sound great. She can't imagine having to marry anyone for less than love, or at the very least, not having a say in who she's marrying.

[ Fortunately for Clara, she's started to get used to the crypticness because 90% of the people she talks to seem to thrive on it. It's like the opposite of the Doctor, although at least Vanessa says more at a time than Wangji. She's much more generous in the size of her puzzle pieces. ]

Well, suppose we'll have to stick to foraging which is fine by me. Hate vegetables anyway. Except for potatoes.

[ But she keeps thinking about her words and glances over, trudging along beside Vanessa. She seems different than the time they met at the dock and the time they spent together at her home. Clara wonders if something has happened and bites at the inside of her lip before daring to ask. ]

I know you don't know me very well yet, but I think I'd be a rubbish person if I didn't ask if you're alright. Granted, neither of us was at our best last time we crossed paths, but you look—[ She grasps for the right word and nearly says exhausted, but changes her mind. ]—heavy.

"My family is..."

Caitlyn really hates to let on just how wealthy and powerful House Kiramman is. As much as she misses home, the one nice thing about being away is that nobody here can possibly recognize her or her surname. And nobody can judge her for it. So instead of trying to explain that her mother sits on the ruling council of a city-state that controls most of the world's trade, and therefore her parents have a lot of opinions about the type of person who should marry into the family, she simply says:

"...traditional. My parents would never approve of someone they didn't deem suitable. And they'd rather find someone themselves than risk leaving it up to me."

"Drinking games happen to be my favorite sport," Allison smirks. "Though honestly that may just be drinking. Life is shitty, you do what you have to to cope."

And as long as she doesn't swing too far to the Klaus side of things, she figures she's doing okay. Granted, there's an entire canyon between what some people would consider normal alcohol use and where Klaus prefers to live, and she's just about climbing up the other side.

Anduin has always been good at reading people. Reading situations. The question could only be a hypothetical. But there's something in the way she's asking it that reads otherwise to him. Understanding of course, from Wrathion, the fact that she and the Doctor are here from the same world herself.

He raises his eyes to meet her own, his light blue eyes soft and terribly knowing. There could only be one reason she would ask such a thing, after all.

"He did not, at first," Anduin replies. "He was... There was a great evil we had faced, where we came from. That he would face. When I first came here, he did not know. That he would survive. And I did. Because I had already lived through it."

Pointy end, other person. Got it.

[ Clara smiles, appreciating the joke because she's beautifully nerdy. But she does look more serious and nods slowly. ]

On anything, right? I'm hoping it doesn't come down to people or a person, but if it's an animal, also the gut?

Clara wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Because you, as a fully grown person, can't possibly know what you like." She's more interested in their conversation than the game, not paying attention to the other women for now.

"Are they at least open-minded about the whole kissing a woman thing? Some of my family, the people that mattered most, were pretty alright with it. My dad was..." She wobbles a hand back and forth in a 'so-so' motion. "But he's alright with it now."

"Been there. Think I still have one foot in that door, actually."

There's only one shot left, but between them they've easily won, and one of the women in the bridal party downs the final glass.

"Think I've had my fill of games for now. How about a real drink, something a little less...chaotic? A bottle of something on the porch?" That way, they can make it inside before the doors lock. Alcohol and snow and moonlight seem nice. "No pressure, but I think it'd be better with company."

Her breath catches a little and she looks down at the water as if there's an answer to a question she isn't even sure of yet, floating just beneath her fingertips.

"Did you tell him?" She asks it as she looks up again, and it's clear from her own expression that this isn't hypothetical anymore. She needs to know how she's supposed to navigate all of this, and so far, Anduin's the only person who seems to truly understand.

It's actually more difficult in an animal. They will instinctively protect their guts because they know it's vulnerable. Go for the face and eyes instead. Although if you get an opening for the gut, absolutely.

[He hasn't gone hunting in a while, and he prefers bow and arrows when hunting, but he remembers that.]

Depending on the animal you might get better luck scaring it away with loud noise.

"Your dad didn't like you being with other women?" At least that had never been an issue for her. "My parents asked me whether I wanted a husband or a wife, and then set about finding me one."

Somebody gives another prompt, something about kissing multiple people in a single evening or at the same time. Nothing Caitlyn's ever done, so she ignores it.

"I suspect my mother has a book full of eligible heiresses and merchant's daughters, ready to pull out every time there's a gala or a ball." She sighs a short, sharp little sigh. "All any of them ever want to talk about is politics or trade, and most are only interested in stabbing each other in the back or manipulating each other for profit."

[ Clara nods and remembers something she heard somewhere once. ]

Make yourself big and loud? I thought that was just for bears, but good to know. I'm not that big to begin with, so good luck to me.

[ She smiles in good humor though, obviously hanging onto his words and intent on actually learning things. ]

"He wasn't angry just...confused? He was ready for a son-in-law or something to talk about football or something with. As if a woman can't. Maybe it's a generational thing? At least on Earth."

If her granddads had been alive, she's pretty sure they'd have more of an issue than her actual dad.

"It sounds like your parents want you to be dutiful and bored instead of happy and passionate. It actually sounds like we're talking about the Queen. Elizabeth, back home. Now there's some drama." Her features soften just a little, and she reaches out to rest a light hand on Caitlyn's arm.

"In the end, if you try to make everyone else happy, you'll be miserable," Clara says gently.

Anduin's expression remains soft, and he wishes suddenly that he were not quite so naked so that he might be able to be a bit more... Supportive? Than he feels he is able to be at present.

"I did," he says. "I -- did not wish to lie to him. So when he asked, I told him the truth. As much as I felt I could."

He wonders whether it's crossing some unwritten rule to admit that he recognizes she is asking for herself, and decides he's going to do so anyway.

"How much time is missing?" he asks, gently.

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the snow falls down, it's a magnificent signt

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