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. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"She's from the undercity." Caitlyn sighs. "The city we're from is divided in two by a river. Topside and the undercity, colloquially. There's always been... tension. There was even a battle when I was eight or so; I remember seeing the smoke from the fires they set on the bridge. Growing up, I heard all sorts of stories about how dangerous it is down there, that it's overrun with criminals and violent gangs. But it isn't."

She says it earnestly, but then pauses to think about it for a moment.

"I mean, it is, I suppose. But the people aren't any different than topside. Not really. Most of them are good people who just want to live their lives."

She frowns around at their company - who seem to have largely forgotten about them and moved on with the game - before continuing. "Just because we're from opposite sides of the river, I don't see why we can't be together."

Serthica wasn't actually all that different from what I am used to. The death puppets were really the one big deviation from it, and some of the technology I suppose. For the rest, nothing that a good faction was in court cannot reproduce.

[But that doesn't answer her question.]

It's nice to have some personal space again.

"West Side Story," Clara whispers under her breath before paying attention again.

"Listen, love doesn't know about divisions or tension. The heart wants who it wants." There's a far away tug of sadness in her chest but she ignores it, inebriated enough to keep going.

"I completely agree with you, there's no reason. Although I'm guessing parents think otherwise? You're an adult. If you make them happy, you'll never be happy. If it wasn't for all of that, do you enjoy being with her? Would you be hanging out with her more often than not?"

Elbow room and fresh air are things I didn't mean to take for granted, but Serthica made me realize I have.

[ She tilts her head just a little. ]

But I've met good people, so death puppets and ghosts aside, it hasn't been all bad.

"You never want to get married again after getting out."

Especially after Patrick. Getting married to another man was not on her agenda. In fact, all she cared about was getting her daughter back and finding a way to screw him over massively. Landing in the sixties didn't really help those feelings, when all she wanted was to get home.

But then she met Ray.

"But then you meet someone who makes you go...maybe it won't be so bad this time around."

Clara's quiet for a few seconds, long enough to be noticeable but not long enough to get awkward. In those seconds, she pictures two different Doctors. Maybe it won't be so bad.

"Was it? Better, I mean. I've heard people get divorced for all sorts of reasons that haven't got anything to do with not loving one another."

She takes another pull from the bottle, enjoying the moment away from the party to have what feels like a normal conversation. Everything revolved around Serthica for so long, so this is a nice change.

"Oh, yeah. My second husband ... he was the guy, you know? But even when things are perfect, it's not always meant to be."

Part of her had hoped that he would still be alive in 2019, but she had missed that too. Went back to her own time and had no home, no daughter and no husband. Lila isn't wrong when she said she lost all her anchors.

"We both were in different places, you know?" Yeah. That's a light way of putting that she had to time travel fifty years into the future to find her daughter.

Clara smiles a little and exhales. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that," she admits, dragging her foot in the snow on the step below them. She's pretty sure she can explain most of her situation with the Doctor without actually revealing he's here with her. She doesn't want anyone to know these things if they meet him.

"There's someone I—well. I love him. But our timing was off in the worst way. It can't work anyway, he's immortal, I'm not. The age difference is astounding," Clara tries to joke.

Caitlyn picks up on a hint of sadness in Clara's voice, and files that away. It doesn't seem right to pry, though she is quite curious now.

"I'm sure my parents would come to like her, if they got to know her. I'm more concerned that she herself believes that we're... oil and water." She huffs softly. "I enjoy being with her more than anything." She glances around, somewhat surprised Vi isn't here right now, drinking half the bridal party under the table and arm-wrestling the other half.

"She's... she's brilliant. Strong, and brave, and kind. She's been through so much--" And Caitlyn's sure she doesn't even know the half of it. "--and she would have every right to turn her back on the world completely. But she hasn't. She only wants to help people, to protect them. I've never met anyone like her."

Caitlyn's words land on Clara's heart with more force than the other woman could know. Now, all she wants to do is help. "Wait, is she here?" Has her memory gone out the door already? Did she know this? When a loud burst of laughter comes from the bridal party, Clara looks around and decides the conversation deserves more than her distracted attention.

"I wanna keep talking, let's go someplace we won't be pulled back into drinking. This party doesn't seem like it's gonna end anytime soon. There has to be a quieter common area."

"Yes, she--" Caitlyn's cut off by the sudden laughter, and quickly agrees that they ought to go somewhere else.

She stands, only for it to become apparent that she must have had more to drink than she realized as the room spins. But she shakes her head to clear it and nods towards a door.

"I think there's an antechamber where we might find some privacy."

[ A teacher. Such a calling would never appeal to Vanessa, and she's impressed that Clara's held onto her passion through such a strange trial. Children are...fine. Daily? Hm. Perhaps if it depended on the child.

The mention of Frost draws out a bit of a soft smile. She recognizes the name thanks to the Doctor, though this poem is indeed new. Vanessa takes it in quietly, and her smile does dissipate the more she listens.

It's times like these that Vanessa wonders if she really is so transparent, or if she merely has a habit of late to stumble upon perceptive individuals. She gives it a moment to sink in before responding, though not for the personal impact. Vanessa would so often rather keep that to herself. ]

Perhaps you can teach me something, then. Any poetry from beyond my own year? It would lend me the opportunity to surprise the Doctor, if only once.

[ He would probably already know anything she might recite, but he might be surprised it isn't from before her time. If nothing else, perhaps she can discover something new that he likes. ]

[ Clara's always been drawn to working with kids in some capacity, so much so that when she split into pieces, every echo managed to work with them too, at least at some point. ]

Can't pass up an opportunity like that. Let's see.

[ She'd taken a contemporary art class in college, after uni, and she thinks back through all the Mary Oliver and Maya Angelou she read. But she settles on neither. ]

Langston Hughes was a brilliant American poet. He wrote mostly about issues regarding race, but all of his words were impactful. I remember one poem that I made a copy of and stuck in the edge of my mirror so I could see it every day, called 'Dreams.'

[ She hasn't recited poetry in a long time, it feels like a muscle being stretched for the first time in a while, and it takes her a few paces to be sure she remembers the entirety of the short poem. ]

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

That's from somewhere around the 1920s. Can't remember the exact year, though.

[ She exhales so that she can see her breath, watching it fade to nothing. ]

Dreams have always felt fragile to me, you can never hold onto them as long as you want. But I like this poem.

Clara doesn't fare much better, she was already drinking by the time Caitlyn married. Steadying herself, she lets out a breath of fortitude and leads the way out. The air is noticeably cooler just outside the room, but it feels nice after being in the company of so many others.

There is indeed a small place to duck in and sit, and Clara sort of flops into a chair, legs draped over one armrest, her head on the other.

"So, she's actually here with you. Have you spent any time together? I know this place hasn't made it easy," she notes.

Allison snorts, because she can imagine that. She's pretty sure her father was immortal, even if she doesn't exactly know why. But Allison can understand missed timing, and how how painful that can be.

"Well, I'd say age ain't nothing but a number but men use that to be gross so ... I won't." Allison leans back, making a face. Technically Ray is sixty-one years her senior, even if they were physically the same age when they met. She tries not to think about it that way, but it's true. "Technically my husband was sixty-one when I was born, but time travel got involved, and we both met in our thirties."

She knows that might not be Clara's situation though. "I guess ... in my opinion, if you both are in the same place, and are both ready to take on what that relationship means, then why not shoot your shot. I think that happiness gets squandered when people get too focused on the logistics. And in my opinion, that's one of the worst things you can do. Waste your happiness because you're too focused on something else. It's too rare as it is."

Edited (forgot to finish a sentence) 2023-01-17 01:58 (UTC)

Caitlyn sits primly next to Clara. For her, she's relaxed: leaned back in the chair, legs crossed, head resting sideways on her hand. But even slightly inebriated, her posture is still impeccable.

"Yes. Well. No, it hasn't. But we have spent some time together." She frowns miserably. How can she miss Vi this badly when it can't have been more than a few hours since she last saw her? "Just earlier today, she was chopping wood, and I was..." Watching appreciatively. "Helping. She brought up a play she'd been told about, something to do with a young couple on opposing sides of a conflict who kill themselves, and I. I tried to say that I thought love could overcome such obstacles, but she. She reflected on the tragedy of the lovers' families reconciling only after their deaths, got flustered, tried to recite a poem, and left."

Edited 2023-01-17 05:26 (UTC)

Everything Allison says registers in a different way: she's got a really good opinion, and she understands in a way no one else really does. "Time travel," she begins with a small smile. "So's he. And I travel with him, so me too, I s'pose."

Clara sighs softly and leans against the railing after taking another swig of alcohol. "You're not wrong. But if you die for someone and they still don't get it, then what?" She pauses and looks over at Allison.

"I'm not dead anymore. I mean, he brought me back. But what else does a girl gotta do?" she jokes.

She doesn't mean to laugh, and she's quick to wave her hand. "Sorry, drunk me can't help it. I'm not laughing at you, but it's just such a normal thing. I don't know anyone who hasn't had awkward moments with people they like."

Clara can read between the lines of the wood cutting and grins. "Sounds like she was talking about Romeo and Juliet. Personally, I think it's too dramatic. They're something like thirteen. Literal kids, still. There's also West Side Story and they're older, maybe your age?" She has no idea how old Caitlyn is, but she looks younger than Clara, in her own opinion.

"Why do you think she got flustered? Because you tried to bring up a point about love?"

Caitlyn smiles awkwardly in response to Clara's laugh before frowning again in thought as she ponders the unpredictability of Vi's mood.

"I suppose that must be it." She sighs, short and sharp. "I'm certain she feels the same way I do, but she won't allow herself to act on her feelings. Should I bring it up again, do you think? Is it best to be honest? Perhaps I could convince her that our upbringings don't matter. Or would it only further upset her? If I were more overt about my own feelings, would she take it as a sign that I don't want to remain in her life if she never reciprocates? But if I say nothing, would the tension drive a wedge between us over time?"

She's trying to think through all the possibilities, as though she can solve her relationship with Vi the same way she would solve a crime.

Normally, Clara would jump right in, but her own 'just say it' advice backfired spectacularly. Even inebriated as she is, she isn't sure that's the best advice anymore. She thinks, because she likes Caitlyn, and wants to give her a considerate response.

"Honesty is always the best thing. Not to sound like a boring teacher, but eventually, the truth always comes out one way or another. And in a place like this...I dunno about you, but I'd rather not be forced to admit things because of some stupid sort of mental manipulation."

Sighing softly, she sits up and has to brace her hand on the arm of her seat to keep the room from moving.

"You should tell her, because even if she doesn't react the way you're hoping, at least you'll know. And you'll never have to wonder what if I'd told her?.

Caitlyn reaches out to steady Clara as soon as she realizes she's dizzy.

She hadn't considered the possibility that something might force her hand, but she'd much rather confess her feelings on her own terms than be manipulated into doing so by some sort of mind control. And she doesn't want to have any regrets.

"You're right. I'll talk to her." Should she do it right now? Caitlyn's never been one to hesitate once she's made her mind up. She'll find Vi, and--

Standing up too fast makes the room spin, so she sinks back down into the chair.

"No, no, no," Clara says when she sees Caitlyn getting up. Luckily, the booze wins out and she reaches out to pat her arm once she sinks back down.

"You should definitely be sober for this. Oh, and you know what might help too? Writing it out. No stumbling or stammering because of nerves. Just exactly how you feel."

Maybe Clara should've done that, but too late now. She should take her own advice.

[ Despite one of the reasons given for her request, Vanessa wouldn’t feel comfortable trying to show off to the Doctor with a poem that Clara kept so physically close for years. She listens with care, and again wonders at how astute Clara might be, or if Vanessa is merely the sort to read too much into every little thing. ]

That one will stay between us, then.

[ She'd rather take care with Clara's dreams, whatever they may become. Vanessa understands well how easily they can collapse and become memories.

They're nearing the final trap, and this time when Vanessa crouches to lift a branch, there lies a rabbit caught in a wire trap. For this creature, dreams are certainly dead and frozen.

It may be difficult for Clara to see from a distance, but Vanessa can tell that the poor animal struggled a bit longer than it should have, given the scattering of pink snow underneath the bush. It must have have noticed the trap a moment too late and tried turning around instead of running through. Better for it to have died in ignorance with a broken neck.

It must have been too choked to call out. Vanessa knows the sounds a dying rabbit can make; it's almost like a small child crying out. Bone chilling. It should have lured a predator, but she can surmise the struggle must have been silent. Poor thing. To die without a voice. ]

It isn't always a clean death. Such is the way of things.

[ Clara sighs softly, sadly at the rabbit. Staring at it, she's more caught off guard by Vanessa's words than the slight gore in front of her. The rabbit, it's sad, but she's thankful that it'll feed others when there are times food has been questionable. ]

No. I mean yeah, you're right. Such is the way of things.

[ Instead of thinking about her mother's death (which is coming up more often on this planet than it ever has in her life), Clara nods at the rabbit. ]

I feel like the next step in the process is skinning? But that's just my best guess.

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. I'll write something out and tell her as soon as it's done."

Caitlyn's stomach is fluttering just thinking about it. She's going to tell Vi how she feels and... and Vi will come around, surely. Vi will see that they can be together, that they can be happy.

"Thank you."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 5 of 6

the snow falls down, it's a magnificent signt

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: dead animal

no subject

no subject