westwhere | every life is a pile of good things & bad things

[ There's a peace and stillness in the air after a blizzard, a quiet that settles over the land blanketed in snow. How much of his life has he had time to appreciate these moments? Snow is nothing new to him and he's always loved it, but rarely when he's standing out in it, is he afforded the opportunity to do anything at all with it, dashing from one thing to the next as he so often is.

Lately, the Doctor has been acquainted with the strangest feelings of serenity lurking deep down on quiet occasions like this. It's enough to have developed an unfamiliar fondness for these moments, such that he even seeks them out for a short while.

Of course, he wouldn't be the Doctor if he just stood there gazing out at the snow. The peace of a tranquil morning can only last so long with a fidgety Time Lord lurking about. Realizing that a member of their group is just passing by next to him, the Doctor won't hesitate to turn, smile, and make an offer he assumes can't be refused. ]

You weren't going to do something boring like lurk around inside all day? Come on, let's go out! [ He nods to the grounds surrounding them. ]

Build a snow-shaped person or...creature. A dinosaur, perhaps! Something different. I'm open to ideas, though. Let's crack on, shall we?

[ For anyone who knows the Doctor at all, it's almost entirely expected that he was bound to be locked out of the Inn after curfew at least once. He has multiple watches on his person, it should be an easy enough thing, but working against him is his tendency to get distracted and fascinated by one thing or another. They've been here for days and yet he's still finding so much to explore. He'll never tire of that.

Unfortunately, it means that he's ended up locked out of the Inn. Not the ideal situation, but it won't incite any ire on his part; it was his fault, after all. ]

Okay! Fine! Fair enough, that one's on me. Do lose track a bit sometimes...

[ He glances at his wristwatch, more out of habit than anything else. It's quite a bit later than he even realized. The Doctor's unique physiology means that he can tolerate more extreme temperatures much easier than a human body, so he doesn't feel the chill quite as much. More than anything, he's just worried about being bored through the night.

So it's with absolute delight that he reacts upon seeing a member of their group there with him when he turns around. ]

A turn of good fortune, I'd say, the pair of us out here together! Excellent. Not to worry, I know just how to pass the time.

[ There are, perhaps, many things to worry about when one is trapped outside in the cold and the dark at night, but this hasn't crossed his mind at the moment. ]

[ The Doctor doesn't have much reason to cook often in his travels, his TARDIS providing everything he needs. Or his psychic paper, when he's planet-side and needs something in a pinch, but he experiences hunger much differently than his human companions so it's not generally a concern of his. But he's dabbled with cooking and fancies himself quite good at it.

If they're going to be stuck here for a bit, he's eager to stay busy and be helpful, and what could be more helpful than contributing to the provisions shared amongst their group? He works quickly, meals made swiftly alongside others in their group toiling about in the kitchen. But for anything the Doctor has personally made, there's no guarantee that there aren't some strange flavor surprises awaiting when taking that first bite.

When there's a moment of downtime, the Doctor wanders out of the kitchen to make conversation. In the upper left corner of his waistcoat, on a small bit of paper he's managed to find, he's scribbled his name The Doctor - along with a smiley face beneath it. Tree sap is helpful for keeping it applied!

Seeing a member of their group approaching a table in the dining hall to sit down and, presumably, begin to eat, the Doctor takes it upon himself to interrupt. ]

Hello! Good to see you - [ He points to his name badge, in case you don't already know him. But even if you do, it's worth a look. He's proud of it! ] Hungry, are you? You can't go wrong with anything here, really, but I can do a custom order just for you.

[ It's quieted down enough, so why not? ]

Tell me what you fancy - small snack, big meal, something savory, something sweet? Both?

Edited 2022-12-13 21:29 (UTC)

[ The Doctor doesn't grasp the concept of downtime as a general rule, but though their time spent at the Inn thus far has been positively sedate in comparison to recent adventures, he's finding it not altogether unpleasant. It's a chance to catch his breath a little, to think and sort through so many things on his mind lately, so much more than he'd ever let on. Still, even with the relative calm, there remain adventures lurking about and he's been just as eager to find those. The nightly salting of the corridors, in particular, has him intrigued rather than concerned.

He doesn't sleep much, doesn't need to, though he's tried to improve on his lack of it recently by actually finding an hour or two to drift off in his room. While he certainly isn't eager to potentially experience an evening filled with nightmares, he's also too curious for his own good and he assumes that if he's troubled by the Salt Breaker, he'll simply be able to outsmart it as instructed. There's a hint of uncertainty and danger, but the kind that he's more than used to and doesn't fear. Everything will be perfectly fine, after all.

Not entirely comfortable stretching out flat on his mattress on this particular night, the Doctor falls asleep with his head propped up against a pillow in the corner of his room. When he wakes abruptly and a chill sets in, he feels initially intrigued and doesn't move as swiftly as he should. He's not afraid and not necessarily excited, but there's a certain inexplicable thrill in this and he wouldn't deny it. Still, he'll most certainly do everything he can to avoid having his mind tampered with again. There's been far too much of that lately. Just barely a whisper, under his breath, he speaks to himself. ]

Well, better me than anyone else tonight. Let's have at it, shall we?

[For Xie Lian, it's just his usual bad luck, plain and simple, that saw him locked out. He's been doing chores all day, so he would have liked some hot food and rest, but honestly, in the realm of things that have happened to him in his long life, one night locked out in the cold with no food barely even registers. It's happened before, it might happen again, who knows.

He too does not really register the cold. Not that he doesn't feel it, but given that it will not kill him, it's one of the many aches and pains that just barely registers for him these days.

He's still only wearing his thin white robes - although layered - and his bamboo hat, but with two notable additions : the ribbon holding the hat is now red, and he is also carrying a sword.

And he gives a small, embarrassed laugh.]

It was just a matter of time before it would happen to me, really.

... And I don't think you need to be worried about passing the time. We're not alone.

[ The Doctor's last protracted encounter with his fellow time traveler, Number Five, had been that delightful little Tower with its assortment of charmingly harrowing...adventures. Charming and adventure might perhaps be generous descriptors for what was most certainly anything but a delightful day on the whole. But, a particular and slightly unhinged Time Lord has rather perfected the art of compartmentalization and denial through the long years in order to manage some tenuous grip on his sanity. His grip on it is questionable at times, perhaps.

In the weeks since the Tower, he's been quite busy, of course, and happy to forget certain events ever happened. But they did, and they can't be entirely ignored. Nor can Five. The Inn is a small place, after all, and they're bound to run into one another eventually. While he has no interest in speaking directly about what happened, the Doctor feels he owes his younger counterpart (in a manner of speaking) a token of gratitude. Or a series of them. Why ever speak again in person when one can communicate well enough through written notes and various offerings of food?

The few instances he's glimpsed Five recently from the fringes and shadowed corners of the Inn, the Doctor has - remarkably - taken notice that the younger man doesn't appear to be entirely well. Certainly, he could, at the very least, do with a few hearty meals and tasty delights. Who better to provide?

So as the Doctor busies himself in the kitchen, cooking for their group at large, he takes it upon himself to set aside special meals just for Five. The first day, it's simple enough: a peanut butter sandwich with a few berries smashed down into the peanut butter, along with an extra layer of crispy potatoes that will no doubt be soggy by the time the sandwich is enjoyed. But! It's the thought that counts? The sandwich is wrapped and dropped off at Five's door with a note - Everything in this world is either a potato or not a potato. - All the best, D

The next day - Another sandwich is made, this time some sort of thinly sliced meat and cheese, a pickled something-or-other, more potatoes (though not fried, just salted, boiled, and mashed into the bread), and a condiment he wouldn't be able to name, but would taste like the combination of mayonnaise and cranberry sauce. Another note is left with the sandwich - Always take a banana to a party. - Warmest regards and stuff, O

The third day - He decides to make something on the sweeter side. He's attempting a creation halfway between a muffin and a scone and it only sort of loosely holds its shape as a brown-ish blob. Flour, sugar, cinnamon, ginger, all go into the concoction. He decides to add some salt as well, then more sugar. When he tastes a bite himself, he gags a little at first, adds more sugar to the rest of the mix, and decides that should be good enough. All things are improved with more sugar, after all. So this strange pastry-like blob gets wrapped up carefully but also terribly, and another note is left - There are no apples in this because apples are rubbish. Never forget that. Sincerely - oh fun word! - C

Because the blob isn't holding its shape very well and starts to escape the wrapping - possibly it's not baked through entirely - the Doctor kneels down to try and herd it back in. This means, of course, that if the door is opened or Five might be coming around the corner, it would be impossible for the Doctor to avoid him this time. ]

[ It's mid-morning and the breakfast crowd has mostly dispersed. The Doctor, of course, enjoyed himself because he loves to stay busy. He's just cleaning up the last of the dishes when Clara pops by to ask if they need any other herbs or various ingredients to prepare for the midday meal.

He has no idea what he's making yet, it's too far in advance. Don't ask him to decide already! He does his best work on the fly, after all. But, he has to give Clara at least some guidance, so he offers a bit of structure rather than sending her off with a vague, Get something leafy or round. ]

Anything that resembles an herb of some kind. If you're not sure what it is, don't taste it or anything of the sort, just bring it back here.

[ Once she's off and ready, he gets to work preparing a light snack for himself, and anyone else who might happen to stop by the kitchen. ]

[ It's days since their outdoor adventure, and Clara wanders in with a bouquet of roses in her arms, the petals all tipped with gold. It's beautiful, but she doesn't understand it, and she wants to get the Doctor's opinion. She waits until he's finished up with someone who seems to be pleased (relieved?) the first bite is palatable.

Once he's free she pops into his line of vision. ]

Can you chat for a mo'? Something weird showed up. [ She nods toward the roses, cradled in her arm like she's a pageant winner. ]

[ Despite sleeping almost as little as the Doctor, River is prone to missing (or skipping) breakfast. In fact, she skips most meals, often wandering in at odd hours in search of snacks instead.

Today, she's just in time to catch the last of his instructions. ]

Why? So you can taste it yourself?

[ She barely glances his direction, but her tone is faintly teasing. ]

[ The stillness draws Sarah out, red hair wild around her face and cup of coffee in hand. She's always been loud, but she appreciates the quiet, the calm. And it beats the hell out of the last few weeks. ]

You aren't serious.

[ For all she might look like River Song's somewhat older doppelganger, her accent is American, and she's looking at him like he may have hit his head recently.

She's too old to play in the snow. ]

[Wanda, trailing in to see what might be going on in the kitchen, blinks in surprise at such enthusiasm. It's simultaneously jarring and refreshing.]

A doctor that cooks? Talented.

[ She can't believe the Doctor just told her not to put things in her mouth, as if he doesn't do that all the time. She, she jokingly decides to grab the first bunch of things she sees and walks back into the kitchen. ]

What about this, can I shove this in my mou—

[ When she sees River, Clara drops her sentence and wonders if she's intruding. Although, it is the kitchen, and she was going to come back sometime, so she shrugs off the hesitation. It's the first time she's actually seen River in the same space as the Doctor since she's arrived and she feels slightly awkward but smiles anyway. The fact that River's here at all should be as impossible as Clara exiting over time. ]

I was coming back to tease him, but looks like you beat me to it.

[ The Doctor levels a glance and a small smile in the direction of his companion. It's good to see him again, after everything that's happened. He does, at least, notice that Xie Lan is a bit under-dressed by the standards of most in their group, but then again, neither one of them are quite like many of the others in their group, either. ]

Quite right! It was only a matter of time for me, too. No great bother, really, being out here, though perhaps not as comfortable as our accommodations.

Have you been alright?

[ Well, there are a few things about both her and her reaction that don't surprise him at all: people often look at him as though he's hit his head recently, and he has, of course, seen her face before on the network. The great big universe, people are bound to have doppelgangers running about. Romana had even appropriated Princess Astra's face when she regenerated. Obviously, this is different, but not enough to give him any sort of pause. ]

I'm always serious. I do take off on Tuesdays, though. And sometimes every third Friday.

[ He's busy cleaning and prepping for his next round of meals, but he'll always take time for Clara. Of course, he's not expecting the large bouquet of...flowers? And no ordinary bouquet, either. ]

Showed up when, exactly? Just now?

[ As if nothing is at all unusual or unique about this, the Doctor barely misses a beat before responding. ]

What sort of Doctor would I be if I didn't? I'm a doctor of practically everything, I should hope it includes cooking. Though I haven't had a need to in a long while, admittedly. You're in good hands, though, not to worry. In the mood for anything in particular?

[ Blessedly, he pauses to allow her to speak. ]

[She lifts a brow. Strange. Not the strangest thing she's heard anyone say, but...]

Something warm.

Why else?

[ He hears River, of course, so he casually tosses the words over his shoulder, smirking as he does, before he goes back to what he's doing, opening up the refrigerator and looking around as if in deep thought over which ingredients he wants to work with next.

Before he can do much of anything else at all, though, Clara comes back - already??

Teasing him?? The nerve, Clara! ]

What've you got there? [ He moves closer, just helping himself and taking the bunch of green herbs from her hands without warning. ]

Mint! Excellent. You're better at this than you thought.

[ He pauses to tap Clara's nose and then taps River's nose for good measure, before he goes back to looking through the refrigerator for ingredients that will pair well with the mint. ]

Edited 2022-12-19 04:21 (UTC)

[ A few days after the most recent blizzard, when the snow isn't thick and impenetrable, the Doctor decides that they're due for a bit of a day out. They being, of course, the Doctor and Vanessa. Naturally. So, here they are together, after the rush of this morning's meal, enjoying a bit of crisp air and a chance, he hopes, to see her smile again.

He's kneeling down in the snow, gloveless, letting a fistful of it fall through his fingers as he examines it, deep in thought over what they should build. As though this is the most important thing to be in deep contemplation over right now. ]

What do we think, eh? Not a snow-person, that's boring. Typical. We're not typical, we need something...different. A dragon, a dinosaur, a penguin, a bear, a lion. Too ambitious?

[ Although she enjoys feeding off of his enthusiasm—if her prone lurking isn't an obvious clue—Vanessa is flustered at the thought of actually helping him build anything. He's more the architect, isn't he? For now, her hands are staying in her pockets, but she can at least let her thoughts wander across possibilities and linger near to watch over his shoulder. ]

A creature of the sea? Something grand.

[ River smiles and shakes her head in return. Of course why else. Honestly, he acts like a toddler sometimes. She'd say that will get him into trouble one of these days, but it already has, more than once, so she doesn't bother.

She's still watching him rummage through the refrigerator, but her words are clearly directed at Clara. ]

You know, you could have brought him back a handful of grass, and he still would have had to try it. And would you believe his last face was worse?

[ If anything, her expression sours. He'll have to forgive her; she's only on her second cup of coffee and still the only thing she particularly likes about this place are the ghosts. She doesn't really mind staying in a haunted house. It's familiar, if the spirits aren't exactly the friendliest around. ]

Maybe you've got your days mixed up.

[ Turning away from him to look back out over the blanketing of snow, she takes a drink. Case closed. End of discussion... ]

Unless today's Tuesday.

[ He pays little mind to whether or not she cares to join him, at least for the moment. She's here with him, that's all that matters. As though he's doing some very thorough and calculated research, he picks up another handful of the snow, then smashes it between his hands, testing how compact it is or isn't. ]

Good bit of moisture in this. We're in luck today! The wetter, the better. [ He grins, pleased at his little rhyme, before he drops the misshapen snowball to the ground and then stands up again. ]

A sea creature...as ever, the very best ideas. Oh, what sort of creature - something grand, you said. The Leviathan, perhaps? I'm sure we can manage it.

[ Her eyes light up a little at that. She wonders if it's possible he's seen the Leviathan in person. Some otherworldly version of it, perhaps? She'll have to ask. ]

With its many heads bursting from the waves?

[ She uses his shoulder for support while crouching down next to him, then reaches out to push at the snow to create tiny weaving piles. Like little waves. ]

Oh, I'm making do as always. I did a bit of actual exorcism back in Serthica. It had been a while, but it was sorely needed.

[Ghosts, at least, are familiar and people he enjoys speaking to. Which is good, because there's many of them here.]

The people here are also used to having spirit around. No wonder they do all these things with the salts to keep them outside, or it would be difficult.

every life is a pile of good things & bad things

( open ) the grounds - build a snow-shaped...thing?

( open ) the grounds - trapped outside after curfew

( open) the inn - proust's madeleine

( closed ) lan wangji - pass the salt

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( closed ) five hargreeves - omelette fines herbes pour deux

( closed ) river song & clara - store bought is just fine

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( closed ) vanessa ives - a moon that's made of actual honey

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