clara "why are you booing me i'm right" oswald (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makemeasong) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2022-12-10 07:36 am
makemeasong) wrote in westwhere2022-12-10 07:36 am
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
β π΅π’π π¦ π‘βπ βππππ
β π΅π’π π¦ π‘βπ βππππ πΌπΌ
β π‘βπππ’πβ π‘βπ π€ππππ
β πππ‘ββππ’π π
β ππ¦π π‘πππ¦ ππππ
β ππππππππ ππππ
β π€πππππππ
WHEN: December
WHERE: Around the inn and the grounds
WHAT: Shenanigans, direwolves, bathhouses, and more
WARNINGS: Will change if needed, but for now none
β π΅π’π π¦ π‘βπ βππππ
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?"
β π΅π’π π¦ π‘βπ βππππ πΌπΌ
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.
β π‘βπππ’πβ π‘βπ π€ππππ
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.
β πππ‘ββππ’π π
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."
β ππ¦π π‘πππ¦ ππππ
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.
β ππππππππ ππππ
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?"
β π€πππππππ
[ 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 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."
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"In this place especially, you should fight for it if you can. That's to just drunk me giving advice either. I'll stand by it in the morning."
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"If there's ever a way I can repay the favor, you need only ask."
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Clara smiles, even though she hates admitting it. She'd be great at writing love letters to the Doctor, probably.
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"There was someone. I was working my way up to it, you know? Because it felt so obvious to me after the things we went through together. But I said it, and he doesn't feel the same way, not exactly. It doesn't feel great, but at least I know now. And you might be right, never know who shows up."
She isn't holding her breath, but she doesn't want to mope, either. She just helped a friend, she should be happy!
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"Clara, you're brilliant. You're kind, and clever, and resourceful, and you're a very good friend." She offers what she hopes is an encouraging smile. "I'm sorry he didn't reciprocate. But you'll find someone, either here or in your own world, once you get back to it."
She can't help but wonder who it is Clara's talking about. Someone here? Someone Caitlyn's met? Or someone back home? Despite being a bit drunk, she can't help turning questions over and over in her head.
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"Thank you. Really, really thank you. Do you hug, are you a hugger?"
Because Clara is, and she could use one.
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"Your girl's lucky. You're a good hugger, even with things in the way. A good hug is so underrated."
She feels better for sharing but mostly for helping, or at least trying to help.
"I always forget how sleepy I get once I stop drinking," Clara admits with a laugh before yawning.
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"We ought to turn in, you're right. It's been a long day." She stands - slowly - and takes a few paces towards the door.
"I'll walk you back to your room, if you like." There are ghosts and things about, after all. No sense walking alone if it can be avoided.
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Clara holds onto furniture the entire way to the door, until she's sure she's steady. "Can you fight with swords or anything? Is that something fancy people learn?"
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"I have my rifle here with me. In my room. It's a custom-made lever action with a folding stock."
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"I've no clue what any of that means, but what I get from it is you can hold your own. Did you get a sword or a shield?"
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She's so eager to show off her gun that she's completely forgotten that this same invitation was what led her to kissing that waitress, and that she's told Clara that story.
Of course, her invitation at the time hadn't had any guile or ulterior motive behind it - she really had just wanted to show off her guns, and one thing had led to another. There's no guile or ulterior motive here either, no sneaky intent to turn 'come look at my gun' into a snogging session. Especially as all of her thoughts are completely preoccupied with Vi. She really is just excited to show off her rifle.
"You could even have a go at firing it if you wanted to take it out tomorrow."
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She does bounce a little at the idea of tomorrow's plans. "Always wanted to know what it was like to shoot a gun, but I'm not what I'd call a...a weapons person. But I always thought shooting at targets could be fun."
It would take a lot for her to pick up a gun even in self-defense, literally life or death, probably.
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"We can find somewhere to set up some bottles for targets, and I'll show you how to use it."
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"That'd be brilliant. You're a good friend, you should know that." When they finally make it to Clara's door, she smiles brightly at Caitlyn. "Guns and coffee. That sounds like a good morning, yeah?"
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Caitlyn's planning to spend the night writing a love letter, and then wake up bright and early to go shooting. It all sounds altogether brilliant.
She smiles again before turning to head towards her room.