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. ]

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Caitlyn's not entirely sure how she ended up here or why people keep shoving drinks into her hands. A couple of the drinks have smelled decent, but they all taste like fruit or the aftermath of a fire. Neither is to her taste. Nor is a room full of loud, excitable, drunken people. She's trying to extricate herself from the party when she feels someone grab her wrist.

"I. Um."

No. The answer is no.

"Caitlyn!" Clara recognizes her and grins, letting go of her. "That's alright, probably a good thing, right?" Addressing the rest of the group, she waves them all off, deciding this is as good a time as any to cut herself off. She feels the right amount of drunk and happy without being worried someone might call the Doctor and tell on her.

"Let's go then, can I walk with you?" she leans in and whispers with a small grin. "They keep pulling me back in. I'm too small for this."

"Yes, of course. I--"

Someone else comes up to her and holds out yet more drinks, insisting that they're playing something called 'never have I ever' and that Caitlyn and Clara simply must join.

Caitlyn begins to say, "Oh, no thank you," but she's already being dragged along towards the frivolity.

Clara can't say she's disappointed, but she was fine with leaving, too. Still, they've been dragged in and once they're settled, she leans over to Caitlyn. "Sorry, I didn't realize they'd be this insistent. I'm gonna stumble out of here at this rate. They can't physically keep us here, right?"

Right?

But then the first prompt comes: Never have I ever climbed a tree—nude!

"Who has?"

"Certainly not," Caitlyn responds with a level affronted indignation that only someone with an absurdly posh accent could manage.

But before she can think about trying to leave again, a drunk girl drapes her arm around Caitlyn's shoulders and pushes yet another drink towards her, insisting that the game will be oh so much fun, and Caitlyn's not entirely immune to the charms of pretty girls. So she sits there while the stranger idly brushes some of Caitlyn's hair behind her ear.

"I certainly haven't," is her response to Clara. But a surprising number of people around the table take a drink, including the girl who's wrapped herself around Caitlyn.

The next prompt: Never have I ever said the wrong name during sex!

"Who would do such a thing?" She glances over at Clara again. "Perhaps you won't leave here stumbling after all."

Well...

Clara at least has the capacity to look sheepish before taking her shot. "In my defense, I'd been running on no sleep for two days, caffeine, and not much else. Finals week doesn't count. It was just a fling anyway, if that makes it better?"

She looks at Caitlyn, cringing a little even while she laughs in slight embarrassment. "I promise, I'm less of an arse than that. Most of the time."

"Oh." Caitlyn at least manages to wipe the astonished look off her face relatively quickly. "It's just... I didn't think that..."

Perhaps it isn't that uncommon to say the wrong name, after all, judging by the number of people who take drinks.

She clears her throat and looks down rather abashedly, worried that her reaction is giving away how completely inexperienced she is.

The girl clinging to Caitlyn pouts and points out that Caitlyn hasn't taken a drink yet. That changes with the next prompt: Never have I ever lied about kissing someone!

Caitlyn makes a face, but she takes a long sip from one of the drinks in front of her before glancing sideways at Clara, feeling that she ought to offer an explanation. "She was a server at a gala I was attending. I didn't want her to get in trouble for sneaking off."

Clara's eyes light up; she has no shame in her last confession and doesn't take the next shot. But she appreciates the explanation and her eyes soften a bit.

"That was sweet of you, really. Was she a good kisser though? That's the real question."

Call her nosey, but that sounds like a meet-cute if she ever heard one.

"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 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.

"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."

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."

"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."

"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.

"At least he's come around."

Caitlyn doesn't know what football is or who Queen Elizabeth is, but 'dutiful and bored' just about hits the nail on the head.

"I'm sure my parents will too, eventually. They may kick up a fuss about it, but I've no intention of marrying someone based on whether or not they approve of her."

"Good for you. You shouldn't. And neither do I. If you spend all your life trying to make others happy, they'll be pleased and you'll be miserable. Can't have that, you're too kind. At leas you were to me, and I think you deserve to be happy."

Everyone does, but she's in passionate drunk mode now, and there's no stopping her.

"You're strong, and very smart, and anyone would be lucky to have you."

Caitlyn isn't accustomed to this sort of effusive praise. And it doesn't help that not everyone would agree with what Clara's saying.

Clara may be tipsy, but she seems like she has experience with relationships. Moreso than Caitlyn, in any case. So, with an awkward little fidget of her fingers against her glass, Caitlyn works up the courage to ask for advice on romance.

"Can I ask you a question?" She lowers her voice and leans closer to Clara, as though the attempt to be discreet will work when they're surrounded.

Edited 2022-12-24 23:33 (UTC)

Clara matches Caitlyn's tone. In the relationship category, she's had her fair share, and she's happy to disperse some drunken wisdom.

"'Course you can. Anything." And she means it; she does like Caitlyn a lot, she was one of the first people she went through something with when she arrived, and since then, she's tried (and mostly failed) to check in with her every now and again.

Caitlyn leans in a little closer, ducking her head down and raising a hand to block the others' view of her face. In case they can read lips. Or something.

"There's. Someone. A girl." She frowns miserably for a moment before pressing on. She's never actually told anybody about her feelings before, but Clara seems both kind and trustworthy in addition to experienced. "I... care for her a great deal, and I think she cares for me too, but. She said she wasn't interested, that we were too different, and I don't want to push her for any sort of relationship she doesn't truly want." She sighs. "I can't stop thinking about her, though, and I've no idea what to do."

Clara's eyes widen. "A girl," she breathes out in excitement before listening intently. Her expression is serious and she nods along, thinking. It's been so long since Sabine died, she forgot how fun having these sorts of talks could be. Fun and helpful.

"What about you is different? And do you feel like it's too big a difference?"

"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."

"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?"

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."

drinking game

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the season was too much for my rp brain, sorry for my slowness!

no worries!

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