Clara Oswald (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bossily) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2021-12-04 07:27 pm
bossily) wrote in ximilialog2021-12-04 07:27 pm
open
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]
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]
no subject
A groan catches in her throat as she loses herself in him, a heat and desperation to her kiss that echoes his need for her. She always wants him, finds herself craving him when she least expects it. It's like he's taken root within her, the connection steadily and surely growing as he makes her feel like she's made of sunlight.
This isn't just sex, she knows. It's fueled by emotion and this consuming connection they share. In the back of her mind, she realizes this could be dangerous. They're both diving into this without looking back, not thinking of the consequences. When they're this close and he can make her feel this alive, consequences can be damned.]
We should -
[She manages to get out the words, her lips still against his. The hand on her broken arm touches lightly at his chest, just so she can check and make sure if she's getting his heart racing as well as he's doing with hers. Even the anticipation alone is enough to leave her wanting.]
My bed.
[If they're going to keep going, they should probably relocate over to her side of the room.]
no subject
when he finally nods, he draws back, peering down at her broken arm against his chest. taking her other arm, he lifts it to wrap around his neck, urging it to hold tight before he reaches his palms beneath her thighs, lifting her up as he stands on his feet. with his support and strength, she won't need to us both arms to hold on, nothing but one just to keep herself from tilting back. it isn't a far walk anyhow, just a short walk to the other side of the room, and far from the first time he's lifted her.
it's similar only to that first time with how he carries her, with how the intentions of what they plan to do is obvious; everything else feels like they're miles ahead from where they were then, his emotions pulsing with a different kind of frantic beat for her, like he knows there isn't anyone on this station he'd rather be with right now than with her. ]