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

[ Vanessa is out checking on the rabbit snares that she's set up when she catches sight of Clara ice-skating. She steps back behind a tree so that she can peek around, not wanting to interrupt the other woman's peaceful solitude, but not in a hurry to look away, either. She's never been able to help herself whenever someone catches her interest.

It's a strangely beautiful sight, almost calming, and she's quiet while appreciating the picturesque image Clara makes when she loops around the lake. Perhaps not the most graceful skater, but Vanessa doesn't have many to compare to. She's never been skating.

Seeing her fall sends Vanessa into a mild panic, though, as all she can suddenly recall is the not-so-long-ago image of Clara dropping out of sight into the watery depths of the sea. She drops her rabbit hide and races over to the edge of the lake, nearly slipping when she reaches the end of the snowbank. Vanessa anxiously paces along the edge when she sees that Clara hasn't actually fallen through the ice.

She's a bit nervous at the idea of crossing the ice, but she's considering it. As close as this, Vanessa doesn't need to use her eyes to tell that something dangerous lurks below. She keeps her gaze on Clara. ]

Miss Oswald, are you all right?

[ For a few seconds, Clara is paralyzed with fear, even after the creature beneath the ice disappears. Then, Vanessa's voice snaps her out of her fog and she looks up. ]

No one told me getting up takes more core strength than I'm willing to exercise for.

[ She's a comedy show, but she also doesn't want Vanessa to come on the ice, not if something might be testing the strength of the ice to break through. Like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, except ice instead of electric fences. ]

I'm alright, but I'm never skating here again. There's something big under the ice.

[ Clara winds up wobbling back to her feet, but she does reach out for Vanessa's hand because she's too close to let her pride get the better of her. ]

[ Vanessa nods when Clara mentions something under the ice, though she has yet to look down to try and appraise its physical size. Her gaze stays on Clara, watching for any subtle tremble that might send her falling again. Keeping her feet wedged in the snow, Vanessa stretches out both hands as far as she dares without losing her balance, and the strain to her stare relaxes a touch once one of Clara's hand grabs hold of hers.

It's when the woman's nearly to safety that another bump on the ice sends a tremor even to the edges. As soon as Clara's boot slips, Vanessa grabs with her other hand and yanks to grab her close, but the momentum sends them tumbling back into the snowbank with a frozen flurry.

At least they're off the lake. ]

[ Clara only manages a loud fu—before she's tumbling again, and despite her best efforts not to land on top of Vanessa, it's the only place her momentum takes her.

She does, however, manage to brace herself with hands on either side of Vanessa's head to keep from slamming their faces together. The last thing either of them needs is a broken nose. ]

You know, this would be a meet-cute in a romance novel. Maybe minus the lake monster.

[ She smirks, then pushes herself up carefully, reachin gout to help Vanessa this time. ]

[ The terminology may not be the most familiar, but all the words are known and Vanessa can appreciate the joke, even if the smile offered when sitting back up is so fleeting that it could have been imagined ]

Unfortunately for romance, the lake monster would turn it into a penny dreadful.

[ She pauses before taking Clara's hand, quickly tapping her pockets, then feeling for the new bracelet on her wrist, and finally content that nothing seems to have been lost in the tumble, she'll reach to grasp for Clara's wrist in a more secure grip, though she moves slow so as not to put all of her weight on the smaller woman. ]

[ Clara lets out a soft laugh under her breath and once they're both upright, she brushes snow off of her coat. ]

I'm gonna choose to believe the ice will hold and we won't have to fight an eldritch horror before we inevitably leave here, because I haven't learned how to use my new sword yet.

[ Tiny but somewhat mighty, she looks around in the snow after clocking the other woman trying to be sure nothing was missing. ]

Missing anything? I don't see anything, so hopefully not.

[ The optimism garners a raised eyebrow, and Vanessa shakes her head to Clara's question. Though, now she'll offer another little glance around in case Clara might have dropped something.

There is something Vanessa left behind, but it's over by a small tree, so she'll cautiously trek back to fetch the dead rabbit from where it was abandoned moments prior. ]

You ought to request lessons in swordplay. I suspect we have a few masters in our company.

[ Her optimism was missing for a bit there, but she's decided to take it back as long as she can. Clara's nodding in agreement when she realizes Vanessa's holding a dead rabbit, and she forgets all about the sword. Because it's a dead rabbit. ]

Did you do that without any sort of tools?

[ She doesn't see any that are obvious but then again Clara's own sword is magically small and tucked in her pocket. Lest Vanessa think this is the beginning of a criticism, she quickly adds: ]

It's impressive. I think I'd probably starve to death out there on my own. [ Clara nods toward the woods in general. ] It's a good survival skill.

[ That would be something, wouldn't it? Technically, perhaps she could hex a rabbit to death. How far to the dark side would one have to travel to be that reckless with their soul? ]

A snare.

[ She doesn't consider herself the type to be any kind of teacher, but she knows what to do and they have been thrust into a world of unknowns. It can't hurt to know. ]

I can show you. I have three more to check upon.

[ Though, Vanessa's gaze does linger in the direction of the frozen lake. It is captivating, even from here. ]

Please?

[ Clara's eager to accept; the more she knows how to do, the more prepared she can be. Maybe she can't, especially the mental things, but she has no idea what could happen next, which means anything is possible.

Looking back out over the ice, she glances up at Vanessa. ]

It's not...speaking to you or anything is it? In your mind?

[ The second-to-last thing they all need. ]

What?

[ She needs a moment's pause before looking back to Clara, then she slowly shakes her head. Vanessa hasn't tried reaching out to it. She can't say she isn't tempted, but she knows better. The rules of this world are still unknown. ]

No.

[ Gathering her skirts in one hand, she'll turn away to begin heading to where she was originally trudging to. Expecting Clara to follow, of course.

Forgive her, she isn't her usual loquacious self. ]

[ For a second, Clara looks stricken, but then she realizes Vanessa means no to the voices, and relieved, she starts moving to catch up with her. For a few moments, she's content to walk in quiet, but when she does speak, her voice is softer. ]

How did you learn how to do this? I'm going out on a limb, but I assume in Victorian London, women didn't do much of the hunting, and if they did: guns. Definitely correct me if I'm wrong.

[ Victorian London. As if it were something out...of a history book. It's strange to hear that phrase, though Vanessa's expression hardly betrays this.

It's a natural question, but there's a bit of sadness dragging at her answer. ]

Not in London. I told you of the moors— [ A distant crunching sound gets her to pause, but there's nothing off about it so she continues on. ] —of the West Country holding fond memories for me. A friend there taught me this, amongst other tricks of survival.

[ She stalks around some nearby bushes, then crouches down to check. The snare here is undisturbed, but she'll still nod for Clara to come and see the set-up of the wire looping between the two branches. ]

She wasn't one to have anything handed to her.

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ Clara isn't the first person to notice, but Vanessa actually considers a response beyond dismissal for reasons beyond her connections to the Doctor. Vanessa does wonder if he's told Clara anything, but in truth she's noticed the woman's singular persistence in checking on the health of others. There's a sincerity to it that Vanessa hasn't seen often in her life, and even if she rarely offers much of an answer, she knows that can't continue if she doesn't want Clara to give up and flee.

Perhaps she's also a little inspired by the Doctor's own hopeful influence since her return. ]

I don't mean to weigh you down, if that is the case. I suppose it's taking me some time to...find myself again. [ A pause as she realizes Clara might not even know. ] Since traveling through the beacon.

I asked.

[ Clara gently reminds her of that with a soft smile that fades at Vanessa's words. She went through the beacon, and suddenly she has so many questions. And she knows what it is to not know who she is anymore. But none of that matters right now, so she pushes it all to the side. ]

You won't be weighing me down, but I also know the value of having someone to keep your mind off of unpleasant things. I can do that, too.

[ No matter what Clara says, Vanessa feels that 'heavy' is exactly what describes her footfalls on this new path. They drag, even, when the Doctor isn't there to take her hand and spin her into the clouds.

To admit as much to anyone isn't something she can manage, but there are other ways to share in struggles without utterly locking the other person out of your heart. She doesn't think Clara is the type of person to ever knowingly abuse another's heart, but she's also said things that have left Vanessa with her breath suspended—an unease never forgotten.

She's felt the same about most of her closest friends. Every one has carried a dangerous secret. Vanessa wanted to hold their hand, all the same. ]

Through activities like ice skating, you mean? I never did learn.

Edited 2022-12-26 20:51 (UTC)

[ Clara smiles just a touch, but glances back at the lake well behind them now and out of sight. ]

I might've tried teaching you what little I can before I knew there was something lurking under the ice. Now I don't want to take my chances. [ She's amazed that others are, they can't be the only two who've felt it, but people are still having their fun. ]

Barring that, I like stories. Real ones, made-up ones. Both listening and telling. Reading is actually what I really like to do, and from there it's easy to make up stories. I used to memorize short stories or poems and recite them for my family like a proper narcissist. As if they wanted to see a pre-teen dramatically recite 'The Raven.'

[ Clara smiles again, then titls her head as she looks at Vanessa. ] What year is it for you again? Do you know Edgar Allan Poe's work yet?

The year of— [ our Lord, a pause, barely noticeable, before her graveled murmur continues on. ] ...eighteen ninety-two.

[ Vanessa's patience for hearing stories isn't what it once was, but she can understand the sentiment. For reading, she has a certain fondness, and the suggestion that she somehow hasn't heard of Poe might be insulting if she hadn't had to illustrate the year of her arrival. Departure?

The thought of Clara carrying on reciting poetry to others in a fashion that Vanessa herself is fond of is a bit comforting, and not something she should be surprised by. Clara's shown poetic leanings before now. ]

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, and the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

[ Her gaze stays ahead, one hand in her coat pocket while the other lets the small carcass hang at her side, the limp creature gently bumping her dark skirts when they take a steeper incline. ]

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor...shall be lifted—nevermore.

[ Clara's eyes light up and she grins. She remembers thinking once while watching something that she was pretty sure all women were required at one point to memorize poetry. Why, she can only guess, probably to keep gathering from being dull, she isn't sure. But she'd always thought it was an interesting talent, and she loves it. ]

Brilliant. I love teaching that one around the beginning of autumn, it fits with the season. It's always easiest to kick start a semester of poetry with something that keeps them on the edge of their seats. Learned my lesson, never start with the "boring" first.

[ She uses air quotes, because never would she find any of what she teaches boring. ]

You won't know this one quite yet, Frost didn't gain traction until the later part of your decade, but this one seems appropriate for now. [ She gives it a moment, not shy at all, but unsure about reciting the whole thing. That thought doesn't stop her, of course. ]

Whose woods are these I think I know. His house is in the village though; he will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow. [ She recites the poem in its entirety; it was made into a song she had to sing once in school choir for a holiday program, though she hardly remembers how the tune went. Still, it helped her remember the words. ]

[ 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. ]

the snow falls down, it's a magnificent signt

❅ 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑘𝑒

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cw: dead animal

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