open

[bossily]

CHARACTERS: Clara & OPEN
LOCATION: kitchen, sunlight room, common area, sleeping quarters
DATE: First half of December
CONTENT: General catch all for December.
WARNINGS: nothing yet, will update as needed!



Kitchen
I am the boss.

[Clara's voice chimes out in the otherwise quiet kitchen. She's tall enough to see over the counter maybe, but not so tall that she isn't almost nearly eye to eye with a jar. With one arm in a sling and the other on her hip, she's scowling over at the jar with every ounce of sass she can muster toward an inanimate object.]

I am the boss, and because I'm the boss here, you're going to do as I say.

[She reaches over with her one good hand and tries to open the lid. Tries and tries again, failing each time. There's something close to a frustrated huff as she finally pushes the jar away.]

Fine, be that way. I didn't want to eat you anyway. It's not like I haven't eaten all day. Not that you would care.

[Yes, she is looking and sounding petulant while talking to a jar in the middle of the kitchen. Don't mind her.]


Sunlight Room
[Some evenings she wanders into the sunlight room with her tattered notebook and pencils. She can lose track of time sitting in the grass off somewhere and waiting for her stars to appear. They're not real, she knows this. But they're beautiful to her all the same, and she's captivated by the sight of them no matter how many times her insomnia leads to her being here alone.

There's snow on the ground now, and she likely isn't properly bundled up for it. But she takes the time to find a decent enough rock to sit on.

She has her notebook open and sitting before her, the map of the simulated stars drawn out with loving care. She's still working on it even now, her good hand put to use sketching slowly. She's so focused on her star maps and writing names for each star and made up constellation that she doesn't notice someone approach.

Whether they stand nearby or sit right near her, her attention isn't torn away so quickly. It takes a moment before she glances over. Her eyes are so dark in the lighting in the room that they seem to reflect the stars she can't pry her gaze off of. ]

Give me a name. Any name, quick as you like.


Common Area
[Clara's managed to obtain a small book collection from the random things that come in from the drops. She's a book nerd at heart, and her English teacher side is missing academic discussion. So she heads to the common area and makes herself comfortable, setting out her small collection of books like a lure meant to pull people in for conversation.

Of course, she's just as content curling up in a chair and reading beside someone for a while. You don't have to talk to have a good time, especially when you can go on and on about the things you've just read once quiet time is over.

She also wouldn't mind taking the time to set aside her very worn and ancient copy of Pride & Prejudice in order to discuss her many high opinions of Jane Austen. And if she so happens to mention that Jane is a fantastic kisser, it's only for the sake of keeping the conversation going.

Reluctant engagers that she spots looking her way when she glances up over the top of her book earn a quiet cough, and a shove of one of the books down along the couch in a silent invitation.]

Bedroom; closed to close CR
[Clara's making an effort to be present around the station, to be out and about despite her injury. It's not a major one, and Bones did a brilliant job patching her up. She'll be good as new eventually. But for now she fluctuates between good days and ones where she's easily frustrated and in pain. Those days get fewer and far between as the month wears on. But the first days back see her retreating back to her room after attempts to act like everything is fine out and about with the others.

For those that know her best, it's easy to see the exhaustion in her eyes, even as she acts bubbly and chipper with everyone around her. She didn't have any control over whether or not she hurt her arm. She still doesn't even remember how it happened. But what she can control is her attitude after the mission, and she's determined to make this down period be as good as she possibly can.

Which means occasional catnaps or hiding away in her room to sort through the assortment of hats and belongings that the Doctors are starting to pile up. She organizes things into whatever containers she can find, labeling each box simply with Doctor and leaving them to figure out the proper owner. Her bowtied Doctor's hats are arranged in a neat little row on his bed. She's not even going to get into the weird bed beef or brick she found that presumably belong to her other Doctor. They're just left where they are, like a dirty secret she'll never bring up and hope he never wants to talk about. And her own few belongings are meticulously re-organized as if she actually had left anything a mess. She may have a broken arm but that isn't any excuse to have a messy room.

Her door is always open to those close to her, without their needing to knock or ask if it's okay for them to pop by. When anyone does happen to stop by, she's quick to offer them a dimpled grin and toss them one of her dresses that she's just picked up off the floor. Yeah, she's just about done here.]

On a scale of Clara, you're an organization genius; and how sad you're rooming with a hoarder, how do things look? Be honest.

Wildcard
[the choose your own adventure & write your own starter option]

Comments

kitchen!

[blackfire]

（ he hasn't made a habit of being routinely in the kitchens. mostly he arrives, takes a meal's worth of food and leaves again, silent as a ghost. he comes at odd times, the early morning witching hour when most of the other denizens are sleeping. but today he is — in search of something with just enough sweetness to take the edge off a craving, and it's drawn him out of his room at something approaching a normal time.

to encounter a woman engaged in what appears to be a battle of wills with a jar of some substance he does not immediately identify.

itachi does not mean to sneak up on her, truly — it's just that he should probably wear a fucking bell, which is why he clears his throat politely a short distance away. ）

May I?

（ no ninja has ever been defeated by a jar, okay. ）

[bossily]

[Typically she would be all over standing up a little taller and doing this herself. But normally she doesn't have a broken arm in a sling. And also normally, strangers don't see her talking to her food. It's all horribly embarrassing really. Her cheeks turn red as she shrugs her shoulders.

Yeah, way to play it cool, Clara.]

Wouldn't say no to someone that's good with their hands right about now.

[blackfire]

（ he recognizes the embarrassment, but does not Get It in any traditional sense. there is no shame in injury. he simply steps past her, reaches for the jar and in a quick twist of its top has it undone for her. ）

It requires no especial skill.

（ local man takes things too literally and responds in kind — 'good with his hands' he may well be, but that talent isn't needed here. ）

What were you intending to make?

bedroom, hoarder edition;

[kovach]

Still looks like too much shit.

[ if clara ever wants honesty, there's probably really never going to be anyone else who'd offer it so bluntly. and when he steps inside, catching her dress in his hands when she gives it a toss, his brow quirks up in observing her attempt at making things at least a little bit tidier in a space that had begun to look more like a storage closet than an actual bedroom.

he'd already begun to stay over, always steering away from the doctors' side of things, even if he occasionally side eyes the cluster of miscellaneous items that seem like the result of blind shopping through the station's occasional supply drop. it hasn't necessarily bothered him, not when clara's proven to be plenty distracting anyway, giving a lot more to give his attention to than the abundance of hoarding, but it does catch his eye whenever he comes around, like he's trying to decide if it's worth asking about or if he's better off without the knowledge of what goes on in the doctor's mind.

tossing her dress to hang over his shoulder as he moves further inside, he at least gives the room a careful look since she's apparently worked herself towards the effort, broken arm and all. ]

Can't you just toss half that crap to the trash? Would they even notice?

[bossily]

[She knew she could count on him to be bluntly honest. At first she's a little dismayed because she's just spent hours working so hard to clean and it still looks like a mess to him. So she's frowning as she looks over her work, thumb on her good hand pressing up against the corner of her mouth as she surveys the area.]

Not only would they notice, they'd likely never let me hear the end of it. And in turn, I would never let you hear the end of it.

[She goes to grab a few more of their things to gently place them in the little boxes and crates she's made up for them. Typically she'd already have gone to greet him with a kiss by now, but she's distracted by an urgency to exert control over the mess. It's got to be taken care of.]

At least my side is as tidy as usual?

[When she says it, it's done in a cute suggesting tone, one that implies she knows the mess is a problem and she's trying her best to take care of it.]

[kovach]

Why? It's not my garbage.

[ but then it'd be his encouragement of throwing it all away that, inevitably, she likely would have reason to give him an earful. not that he'd likely feel guilty over it, as long as the trash is gone.

but she's using that voice with him, the kind that just seeks to lure out the positive affirmation, and he sighs, rolling his eyes in a plenty endearing manner. ]

Your side's fine. [ it's his "good job" spoken the kovacs way.

silently, he gives her working hand a nudge away as he starts to take over for her, grabbing items and just tossing them in to give her a bit of a break after how much she's likely exerted herself all afternoon. ]

Shouldn't the slobs at least be the ones cleaning after their own mess?

Common Room

[droide]

[ Elthree has a book of her own to read-- or rather, a datapad that she's borrowed from Roger, which contains his first memoir, From Trenches To Wrenches: The Roger Story. Since the memoir is in digital form, it's impossible to tell its length like one would a printed book, but those are far more rare in Elthree's galaxy than datapad versions. It's a long one, anyhow, covering over sixty years of her galaxy's history, from the perspective of a lone battle droid.

When she hears a small inviting cough, Elthree looks up from her reading, her optic narrowing. ]

...Yes?

[bossily]

[This must be the other droid that Roger mentioned. Clara's more than curious to speak with them, and is pleased that her attempt at initiating contact is well received.]

I noticed you were reading something.

[And she, too, also happens to be reading something. Which clearly means they should discuss whatever it is they're reading. Like a proper book club.]

I was just trying to offer you a seat. [Awkward pause.] Assuming that sitting is something you like to do. While reading. [Another awkward pause.] Wait, is that a Kindle? Amazon really does get everywhere these days.

[Yes, she realizes what a loser she sounds like right now.]

[droide]

[ Elthree turns the datapad over in her hands, somewhat confused. ]

It's... a datapad. I wouldn't use it for kindling. It wouldn't burn especially well.

[ Not to mention then you would lose all of Roger's hard work.

But, the invitation to sit is appreciated. Most organics (where Elthree comes from, at least) wouldn't show such courtesy to a droid. She comes over and sits in the seat the young woman indicated, expressionless face impassive as ever, but her posture seems to indicate a relaxed feeling. ]

I'm L3-37.

Sunlight room

[bindsthedead]

[The snow is a nice change of pace, and Sabriel, like many of the Ximilia's crew, is something of an insomniac.

The snow probably isn't real, but the sound it makes beneath her feet is a remarkable imitation. And when Clara asks her question, Sabriel pauses before responding, settling herself down on the rock next to Clara, and looking up at the stars. They're probably a simulation of the night sky somewhere, but the constellations are utterly foreign to her.]

Touchstone.

[He might not be here, but he's still the first name to come to mind.]

[bossily]

[That makes her take pause and stare for a moment, if only because that word means something to her. Not as a name, but just for the simple fact that she recently had a discussion on the fact that she's the Doctor's touchstone.]

Touchstone it is.

[She's quick to turn back and jot it down, before using her free hand to hold up her notebook.]

I've been mapping the stars here. Even if they're not real, it felt like they deserve to be known the same as any other constellation where I come from.

[bindsthedead]

Well, they're not real, but they're probably a copy of someone's sky. Perhaps the commander's?

[It's Sabriel's best guess. He's the one who's been here before all of them, after all. Wouldn't he miss his home too?]

Not a bad idea, at least. Do you need help with your arm?

[Do you want me to heal it? is the unspoken offer.]

Wildcard

[morethan084]

[Daisy shows up at Clara's door a good five hours later, whiskey in hand as well as two glasses and a bag of popcorn tucked under her arm. Okay, so maybe not the best thing to go along with whiskey, but it's better than nothing? Daisy uses her elbow to knock on the door twice, since her hands are kind of full at the moment.]

[bossily]

[The door opens, and Clara's quick to grab the bottle of whiskey right from Daisy's arms. She's not necessarily eager to jump into drinking, but she also doesn't want to see perfectly good alcohol go to waste. So she ushers Daisy in and nods over toward her bed.]

I'd keep to my side of the room. I just spent hours tidying up, but the Doctors tend to not keep their things very...organized.

[Aka: they're a mess]

[morethan084]

Hey.

[Daisy says, laughing at Clara's almost urgency as she follows her into the room.]

Wow. You room with the both of them?

[Sitting on the edge of her bed, Daisy remembers Leonard's reaction to her shoes and toes them off so she doesn't get scolded, again.]

That's gotta be...

Interesting.

Kitchen

[anthropophagite]

[ he isn't entirely sure what he is doing in the kitchen. Mostly because there is nothing for him to eat in this place - well, he really hopes there isn't, all things considered - but he is curious nonetheless and is exploring the ship, so why not.

While he glances around, he watches Clara struggle with the jar and eventually approaches, smiling a little at her ]

You can try to tap the lid, with a wooden spoon, or against the edge of the table. [ it's an easy enough trick and works most of the time ] Or apply heat to the lid.

[ OR - and kaneki reaches out with his hand ] - or I can do it. [ he has super strength. He promises he won't break it, though ]

[bossily]

Heat might wind up with my good hand being burnt.

[She laughs in amusement at the idea, a reckless sort of sound that says she's definitely considering the option just because it would be fun. But he's offered his help, so she passes the jar over toward him.]

It's not stuck, for the record. It's just a pain to do one handed.

[Her arm in the sling raises upward as she gives a shrug of her shoulders.]

sunlight room.

[construing]

—what? Uh—

[ it's a straightforward question. but being abruptly put on the spot wipes gwen's brain of every name she knows, including her own.

for fuck's sake, gwen, just say a name.

text at the bottom edge of her vision catches her attention. she looks down at her shirt, proudly splashed with the band's name. ]

Mary Jane.

[ of all the names… ]

[bossily]

[Clara pauses to take a moment to write the name in her notebook. When she's done, she holds out her drawings of the star projections to show her the star she's labeled and named Mary Jane.]

Is that your name? If so, congratulations, you're immortalized in the stars.

[Which is either going to be a charming or a completely overwhelming thought. Clara's found there really is no in between among the people here. Then again, the way she's just paused before answering? Clara would expect that's not her name at all, and it might hold more meaning.]

sunlight room, wildcard??

[spoilers]

[ River loves the stars, too, even if their unfamiliarity threatens to overwhelm her with a sadness that would be difficult to explain.

Insomnia (or simply having little need to sleep) is a common problem on the station, especially among time lords and their companions. She's noticed Clara more nights than not sitting out under the stars with her open notebooks. Usually she leaves her to her star mapping, but the stars seem especially bright tonight. ]

It's nice, isn't it?

I miss the stars. [ She laughs lightly; the change of tense isn't accidental. ] I missed the outdoors.

[bossily]

[Clara glances up to greet River with a smile. She's always glad to see her around, and tonight is no different.]

Which stars are your favorite?

[She very clearly doesn't specify if she means the stars projected here or ones she's seen with the Doctor. Given her feelings for the Doctor, and the fact that River is married to him, it feels intrusive to bring him up. Besides, given the sort of woman River is, Claras fairly certain she's seen nebulas the Doctor hasn't even caught wind of.]

Sometimes I find myself missing the ones you can see from Earth.

[But not often anymore. that sort of sentiment is rare for her.]

kitchen

[petsthedog]

[Ah, this sure is a scene he has walked in on, isn't it. Shinjiro is kind of gruff and awkward at the best of times, so he doesn't really ask her if she needs help, he merely walks up beside her and reaches for the jar, only then announcing his intention--]

Here. I got it.

[Unless she has an objection very quickly he is popping that lid off!]

[bossily]

[She has no objection at all. In fact, she's looking his way much like he's her hero. Because inside that jar is an ingredient she needs to bake something. Something she's definitely going to share with him once it's done.]

Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with jars?

[She grins as she takes the jar from him, curling it in close to her chest to carry since she's only got one useful arm at the moment. It's with a small nod of her head that she motions for him to follow her over toward the stove.]

common area

[shadysided]

[Ziggy's... not so good at actually hanging out with people. She hadn't even been very good at it back home, not with the bullying and the strange looks, and most certainly not with how jaded she'd become in life — enough that seeking out company wasn't really her thing, not anymore, not like it'd been when her and her sister ran Shadyside with an iron fist in their youths. Getting into trouble, feeling invincible, not realizing how shitty things really were... You don't realize a lot when you're really young.

Anyway, it's — it's not like she's trying to avoid people. But she certainly isn't making herself all that known. She just creeps into the common area sometimes to fish around for books. Seeing Clara, she almost considers just leaving before the other can see her, but...]

I'm not — [She speaks up before she can stop herself, holding an already used book in one hand.] Really. Big on romances. That's what Jane Austin writes, right?

[She's also sporting an injury like Clara, but hers is a little easier to endure; it's just a bandaged leg, one that covers some stitches given by Peter Quill, and the most you can see of it with some random space jumper on is a slight hitch in her steps.]

[bossily]

[At first, Clara's taken off guard by seeing another child here. A child that's having a bit of trouble when she steps down, which means she's injured. She's a teenager, but still only a child. Barely older than her students. Without even knowing her name, Clara feels a protective streak. It feels like she hasn't taught in years. But she'll always have a duty of care to keep children safe.

And to get them to read, too.

Which is why the girl's response makes Clara take a casual approach.]

She was big into romance, yeah. I have a few others here if you'd like to take a peek. Jules Verne may be more your speed.