OPEN ● ● ● Every Christmas is Last Christmas

[lateness]

CHARACTERS: the doctor (12), the doctor (11), clara oswald, river song, and all of you
LOCATION: the mess hall, the kitchens, the simulation room
DATE: december 24th, 25th
CONTENT: team tardis throws a big christmas party for the station
WARNINGS: none for now, will warn as needed (no fires!!!)

PART I
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ...

1.0 Inside the kitchen and mess hall, Orbers will find the entire place decked out to the nines (Or elevens! Hohoho). No one knows how this all came together, but you will find almost everything Christmas related decorated along the walls and tables.

Hanging all around the walls are blue Christmas stockings! Each stocking will have the name of Orber etched in gold knitting. Inside each stocking is an array of personalized treats (if your character is a smoker, for example, then they will find a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, etc.)

On the tables at each place setting there are various coloured paper crowns for Orbers to decorate on their head – courtesy of Clara Oswald and her assistant, the Doctor (the chinny one) – and Christmas crackers to share with friends. Go on, then! Pull that cracker, see the assortment of sweets and surprises you’ve received. As far as refreshments go, there is plenty to share amongst everyone! There is eggnog, "naughty" eggnog, cookies, cakes, candy canes and sugar gumdrops. It is a downright delightful spread of treats to indulge and tide you over for before you feast with your teammates.

2.0 Before the main feast is prepared, there are plenty of activities to keep you (or a friend or two) occupied. Do you see those Christmas trees on almost every corner of the station? Yeah, the Doctor(s) got awfully distracted (something about if a hot dog is a sandwich) and these bare trees could use some decorative love. Or perhaps you can express your creative talents in the kitchen, where you may want to test out a new recipe to share with the rest of the class. Whether it be a savoury or a sweet dish, there is sure to be at least one person who might like it.

There is also a magician’s kit lying around if you want to take a crack at learning a few new tricks to show off to others! Or if you wish to partake in any group activity, there is a stack of board games and a deck of cards to play a friendly game of Go Fish! Who knows? The game-world’s your oyster.

3.0 By evening, the mess hall will be set up with napkins and plates and cutlery of varying Christmas-y colours. It isn’t perfect, but nothing ever really is, is it? Especially after the Doctor (the cross Scots one) might have very nearly burned the kitchens down a little earlier – something about improving the heat for the roast. Still, it’s finally time for the Christmas feast! And oh, what a smell there is wafting through the large space. There’s plenty of delicious food to go around – especially using much of the ingredients that had come in through the last supply drop. There are varying plates of savoury and sweet dishes, some recognizable, some a little more ... eclectic (you use what space ingredients you’re given, after all), but all of what the hosts have prepared look ... surprisingly edible, some of it even delicious. Roast veg, gravy, stuffing, biscuits, gingerbread, hot cocoa, marshmallows, something mulled, and sweets!

Of course, the more food, the merrier! If you’ve taken part in the cooking and baking from earlier, arriving with your own special Signature Dish, the Doctors (yes, both of them!) will be so pleased to see it join the rest of the feast.

And for those who might have run across the Doctor’s enthusiastic ramblings on Jammie Dodgers at one point will finally get a chance to try them. They’ll be stacked up to resemble a tree on a plate, sprinkled with (edible) glitter in blue and silver.

PART II
SIMPLY HAVING A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME

4.0 Christmas Morning finds everyone with an open invitation to the simulation room to attend a very merry Christmas morning. Step inside and be taken away to a warm and cozy living room that is elaborately decorated for the holiday. You’ve been decorated for the occasion too, decked out in pajamas and a robe. With slippers to match, everyone that’s a part of Christmas morning will look like they’re ready to play their part in the festivities. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace, the smell of cinnamon and clove in the air, and the distant sound of traditional Christmas songs playing on an antique radio over in the corner of the room. There’s also a tree, of course, one that almost seems too large to be in such a quaint place. It’s fully decorated, absolutely covered with a variety of kitschy ornaments like Santa Claus on a T-Rex or bears in tutus. There also happen to be ornaments of every single orber present on the station, presented in the form of ridiculous looking little elves.

Around the tree and scattered around the floor are opened gift boxes, wrapping paper strewn about. Toys from the boxes are discarded on the floor and around the room, plastic dinosaurs and robots that come to life when you wind them up. There are ridiculous looking squeaky alien toys, marshmallow launchers, and even a giant stuffed giraffe. Who could all of these toys belong to?

There also happen to be gifts beneath the tree for everyone. There aren’t any labels on the gifts so feel free to choose whichever one you like (but only one, there won’t be any greedy Scrooges here on Christmas!). No matter what size package that is chosen, big or small, there’s a sweater inside: an ugly Christmas sweater for everyone. One that can be put on over your pajamas to take part in an ugly sweater contest once everyone has unwrapped their gifts.

And of course no Christmas morning is complete without some sort of breakfast. Set up in the corner of the room is a small table with pastries and cocoa, with a big bowl of mini marshmallows. There’s coffee present too, for those that prefer their breakfast with a little less sugar. There’s plenty of seating around the living room to grab a leather chair or a spot on the fluffy couch. Or maybe sit in one of the red velvet chairs over by the windows to watch the slow and steady snowfall over a picturesque view of the British countryside.

5.0 As the events of the morning slowly come to an end, the simulation shifts to a quiet little town. There’s snow on rooftops and colorful lights lining buildings that manage to glisten and glow even in the daylight. The entire street is completely over the top with decoration; fresh garlands that smell of pleasant pine, miniature christmas trees decorated from top to bottom, and vibrant red bows are just about everywhere. There’s no hustle and bustle here, just a relaxed afternoon in the most Christmasy town ever.

The smell of cider and gingerbread baking are in the air, brought on by a bakery that’s open for a visit. Want to make a gingerbread house? There are materials set out to do that. There are things for gingerbread people too, if that’s more your bag.

There’s a bookstore filled with all kinds of books. If you’re not from Earth and are curious about Christmas, there’s plenty of children’s books on the matter waiting for you to enjoy. They’re set up on an elaborate display up front, though anyone is free to browse around and look through what else they have to offer.

A toy store, magician’s shop, and a boisterous pub round off the shops found on the street. There’s street vendors selling chestnuts that have been roasted over an open fire, wassail, and marshmallows for roasting. There’s also a band playing live music, Christmas carols of course. Join in and sing along or don’t. No one’s going to judge you either way. Take your time to enjoy everything or rush through because it’s too much Christmas, all in your face at once. Either way, the marketplace is present for hours in the afternoon and leading into the evening hours.

6.0 As night falls everyone is guided out of town and down a candle lit path that leads to a frozen over pond. It’s been set up for ice skating, with skates set aside for anyone that wants a pair. There’s baubles of lights set out all around the area, and the moon hangs high overhead. No seriously, the moon looks incredibly huge tonight. It’s blue glow reflects on the ice along with the warm yellow glow of all the lights. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, inviting anyone that’s brave enough to put on skates and take part.

The band from the Christmas market earlier are back to play throughout the night, playing quieter songs mixed in with lively pieces that are meant to get people speed skating around the ice.

Set a short distance away from the ice is a long table, with plenty of mismatched seats. Fairy lights twinkle overhead, and are also glowing from inside glass canisters that make up the centerpieces on the table. There’s dark blue galaxy dinnerware at every place, and a small feast spread out so no matter where someone sits there’s plenty within reach. It always manages to stay warm, and nothing ever seems to run out. It’s a perfect place to take a break and grab a quick meal, or just sit and chat with someone while you both enjoy a drink.

The area around the pond can be explored, so go crazy playing in the snow or whatever it is you want to do there. Just don’t wander too far off from the group. There may or may not be razor-toothed snowmen keeping you from going too far. They may hiss or blow snow in your face, but they probably won’t try to bite anyone.

🎄 After all of that is said and done, Orbers may find themselves drawn towards a small bonfire billowing from the center of this quaint little town. But it isn’t just the scent of warm Maplewood dancing underneath your nose. There sitting on top of a milk-crate is The Doctor (12) playing a jaunty little tune from his electric guitar. Orbers are more than welcome to sit around the bonfire and reflect on these past few months and where they might find themselves in the future.

If you find yourselves by your lonesome fear not! The Doctor (11) will be there offer you a hug (or smooch if you’re feeling saucy).

No matter what strife you have been through this year, just remember ...

Each and every one of your lives is a story. So best make it a good one.

Comments

[bossily]

[Alina's reassurances serve as a reminder that it's impossible for her to remain neutral. Not that anyone is in a situation where sides are being taken, or that they'll ever be escalated to that point. But in the back of her mind, she shelves Alina over with Takeshi. He needs her. She's still important to him.

The sting of knowing that she'll no longer be of importance only brings on more tears. So she listens to Alina's whispered words and nods in understanding. These are all things she'd tell someone else. It all makes sense, and the rational part of her mind knows these things. But her heart feels like it's not likely to ever be mended, and it's worse knowing it's all of her own doing.]

You have to promise that you'll be there for him. He won't...

[He doesn't know how to be kept without losing everything because of it.

Clara doesn't need to explain that she wasn't trying to keep him. That the weeks where they were together made them both feel safe. Gave them a sense of purpose, a happiness to cling hold of.

When she wipes away her tears, she lies and tells herself she won't ever let them fall over love again. She had told herself that with Danny, and again when she lost the Doctor. And she'll tell herself that again and again, because she's unable to keep herself from loving quickly and completely. ]

He won't be as willing to let people in. Not after this. But you have to promise not to give up on him.

[Time has a way of changing things, even if they never fully heal. She'll give them both time. This ending of one part of their relationship could be a pathway that leads to something new. Something solid, even if it's not the same as it once was.

She leans completely into Alina, finally letting her comfort warm her as best as possible given the chill that's settled into her bones.]

[peasant]

[ silently, she wonders to herself how many promises she'll make. clara's request is another to add to the collection, asking alina to forge it in fire, wrap it in the steel of her conviction. for clara's sake, for takeshi's sake, she can't afford to make it brittle and breakable. i'll be there to remind you, she had vowed, and now that she knows what his heart had been protecting —

i'll be there to save you, she thinks, bumping her nose against the top of clara's head. saints, what a web she's woven herself into, endlessly tethered to the oaths she's made to two divided hearts. ]

I already made him that promise. If he thinks he's stubborn, I'll be worse.

[ that mumble muffles itself in the tawny curtain of clara's hair. deliberately so, in her uncertainty over clara's reaction. it feels wrong to speak of her friendship with him when clara's still bleeding out fresh heartbreak in her arms, like — like alina's taking up space she shouldn't. a hole in takeshi's life that should be occupied by clara, instead. don't be angry with me, part of her wants to beg, irrationally afraid of that possibility.

but there's no fury inflaming clara's voice. only what sounds close to defeat, like she's the one close to giving up — on herself, maybe. her head dips toward clara, forgetting at the last moment that the other woman likely doesn't want her hurt on open display to alina's eyes. she settles for peering at the fire, instead, chin perched atop clara's head. ]

But Clara ... [ she trails off, a soft waver. ] Who's going to be there for you?

[bossily]

[The question makes her suck in a sharp breath of air, the cold filling her lungs and making them burn even more. She appreciates every little gesture Alina is deliberately choosing right now, the attempts to reassure her not necessarily working but are still appreciated all the same.

Time is something that she's become used to going through sloppily. Backward and forward, wherever she and the Doctor like. He is time's master, and by extension, hers to manipulate alongside him. Having to move through things in a linear fashion, ever so slowly, adds to her pain.

She thinks back to the day in her kitchen, shortly after Danny had died. The universe doesn't owe her anything, but she feels she is owed more. In that same aspect, she feels that Kovacs is owed more. That Alina is owed more than having someone years older than her crying her heartbreak out like it's going to solve anything.

Sinking a bit further into herself, Clara goes silent and rigidly still for a while. She honestly has no honest answer to that question. The Doctor is always there for her, but she can't let either Doctor that's here in the way she wants. There's too many spoilers she can't tell them, and too much hurt she's recently suffered that she can't possibly tell them about. Secrets no longer keep them safe, but she suffers through the weight of them by herself out of necessity. Her eyes remain fixed on the fire, attempting to stare through it like she may absorb its warmth and keep them both warm.]

That remains to be seen.

[It's what she finally chooses to say, the words carefully selected and spoken with practised indifference. It's honest, almost to a fault. Time will tell what path she and Kovacs wind up walking down, and whether or not those paths will ever intersect again. And she will pick herself up and keep going, the same as she's always done.

When she leaves here, she's destined to immortality that was forced upon her by the Doctor. She's no less grateful for it, even with the shock of being given it in the first place. She has the abilities to go on her adventures, and choose her own companions. But she refuses to sink much further than she has tonight, unable to allow fear and darkness to make a companion out of her.

She clears her throat, moving to sit up. Her hands wipe at her tears to rid herself of them, and she wears a mask that speaks of a perfected charade of being calm.]

You're here now. That's all I need.

[peasant]

[ are you sure? it sticks in her throat like syrupy molasses, sluggish and slow to rise to the surface. her uncertainty has so little to do with clara herself, and everything to do with alina's expectations: that she has so rarely been enough for anyone, as she is. not without fingers wanting to mold her into a different shape, a different woman — more powerful, more useful to them, like malleable clay molded into their ideal version of alina starkov. not without directly serving a need, made into a servant to some unseen whim.

ravka's desire for a savior. mal seeking a new purpose in protecting her. aleksander leeching her power away. no one has turned to her and settled for what she has to offer — to the point that alina is not so convinced she has anything to offer. certainly not enough to mend the fissures halving clara's heart. certainly not enough to dry the dam of tears the other woman swipes away — unsubtle, much as alina tilts her head away, to gift her the illusion of privacy.

the crackling fire fills in the hesitating gaps in her silence. speechless, fumbling for the right words to say — some magic phrase that might stitch together clara's wounds, set her right again. but if there were such a power ... wouldn't alina herself have found a way to fix the grief she nurses like an old friend, that looming shadow she hasn't yet learned to live without? ]

I'll still be here tomorrow.

[ and the day after, and the day after that. a promise brought to life as the bonfire's flames cast them in hazy flickers of desert-orange. it's not a grand or sweeping vow like those found in storybooks — but significant, still, in its sincerity. maybe it means more, to present clara with such a simple oath — and not impossible odds, filling her head with the soft fluff of starry dreams. ensuring, in alina's own way, that the other woman knows she means to keep it.

an awkward pause follows for a heartbeat, all of the hesitation of someone debating what fork in the path to take. in the end, she thinks clara might appreciate the distraction, as alina latches onto the bag of marshmallows at her feet. the bag crinkles a little as she waves it, in offering. ]

Christmas isn't over yet. [ the corners of her eyes crinkle, soft. ] Would a marshmallow salvage some of it? I have to warn you, I don't share sweets with just anyone. Be rightfully grateful for my sacred offerings.

[bossily]

[The reassurance that Alina will still be there tomorrow is sweet. Clara almost is tempted to point out that she couldn't possibly know that. But it feels rude and cruel to deny someone such a simple and straightforward promise. Especially when the words are spoken to soothe and calm her, not to lead her into another grand fantasy of something she can't possibly obtain in the end.

At the offer of a marshmallow she tries smiling. It falls flat and doesn't meet her eyes, but she tries. The effort of it feels extraordinary right now. But for Alina, she's willing to do whatever torture is necessary to make her feel light. She does so much for other people here, this is the least she can do to try and salvage what's left of her first Christmas.]

Oh, I'm eternally grateful.

[The words hold some of her usual playful lilt, as she yoinks the bag right out of her hand. The bag is opened and she takes out two. One to pop into her mouth now, and the other to try and find a stick laying around she can use for roasting. She's a monster that likes her sweets charred, okay.

She hops up to her feet, eyes scanning around the area until she finds something suitable.]

I'm not sure how I'm meant to repay you for this, though. What sort of price are you putting on sacred offerings like this?

[peasant]

[ clara's smile is a dim imitation of light — like the sun going to battle with an overcast sky, and finding that the clouds have won. for clara's sake, alina doesn't draw her pitying gaze to it, doesn't give any hint that she's aware of the dull glassiness that overtakes clara's gaze — but it's a stark contrast, all the same, as though her sun summoning itself can instinctively sense that fading brightness in clara's spirit.

it's selfish, she thinks, not to dismiss clara with a kind word. not to lend her an excuse to nurse her wounds in private. but her worry won't let her release her friend to escape elsewhere, where alina's watchful eye can't follow. for now, she can convince herself it's for the better to keep her here, distracted, surrounded by the reminder she's still wanted — even if it isn't by the man she longs for. ]

I didn't realize I was sharing my sweets with a heinous criminal.

[ her chin softly jerks, gesturing to the fluffy marshmallow she's impaled on a stick. as a suffering, starving ravkan with only pickled herring and rice porridge to last her through treacherous winters, charring what would be a delicacy to her nation — unthinkable. sinful. a scrunch of her nose follows, in all of its playful disapproval. reaching forward, a spark of light flits in her palm, heating its underside until it's gone gooey around its edges.

satisfied, she tugs her hand away, the pretense of innocence hanging over her head like a halo as it falls back into her lap. ]

I'm open to negotiations. What are you willing to trade?

[bossily]

Trade?

[Pretending is something she excels at. It's easy to act like she wasn't just crying her heart out only moments ago, to act like everything is perfectly happy and marshmallows are enough to solve her every problem.

Though she's feeling a sense of urgency to make excuses to leave, she also feels drawn in to stay. Alina has a way of spreading light and warmth and making her feel that there isn't anywhere better to be when she's hurting this way. ]

What I'm willing to trade, Alina, is a kiss.

[She figures Alina will shy away from the offer, will give up roasted marshmallows just to steer clear of such a ridiculous offer. There isn't any intent behind the offer other than to just give the appearance of levity. Of girls being silly and having fun on Christmas, trading secrets and giggling together by a fire.

She leans in as she says her offer, voice barely above a whisper. And she looks a little confident in the moments after, like she's so clever to choose something that will fluster her friend.]

cw: vague refs to racism

[peasant]

[ in another life, she would have shied from it. scurried away as mice were meant to, burrowing into holes to go unnoticed. no good would have ever come from catching the eye of a boy in the first army — or girl, her mind unhelpfully chimes, with the phantom memory of yelena's soft kiss. nothing but the inevitable heartbreak, but her paranoia poisoning every encounter, knowing it would only be a matter of time before —

before they turned away from her in the light of day, like an ugly, shameful secret to be kept in the dark. before they remarked on her face, unable to pretend it was a portrait of beauty, when they had been taught to hate the shape of her eyes. before it became another part of her to mock — a raw piece of herself she had known not to leave unguarded, vulnerable to cruel hands, too fragile to endure being mishandled.

but this isn't another life, and she isn't that girl anymore, bending her head to the ground. praying, against all odds, that she would remain unnoticed — finding loneliness to be preferable to make ripples through the encampment, through the world. all that had ever brought was attention as sharp and malicious as a knifepoint.

rather than flinch, she cocks a daring eyebrow, as bold as the light that dwells within her. and though it's mostly sincere, there's a nagging insecurity lodged at the back of her mind, that whispers this is silly — that it's possible clara, too, has found her worthy of being mocked. it's a stupid little thought, alina tells herself; clara has only ever been as warm as the bonfire that kisses alina's cheeks, that dances shadows across the bridge of clara's nose — and the stripe of pink, there, that alina's eyes target. ]

You must think highly of your kisses. [ her mouth dimples, grin widening, as though it can't contain her amusement any longer. arrogance isn't so unfamiliar to her; rhysand rules over cockiness as though it were his kingdom, a similar charm to clara's — an easy confidence alina finds herself envying. she leans forward like it's a dare that needs to be issued, brazen and reckless. surely clara will be the one to fold with a little laugh of surrender. ] What makes you believe a kiss is a worthy trade?

[bossily]

[Oh, that didn't just happen. She didn't just get challenged like that. It's strange in a way, how easy it is for Clara to switch between heartbreak and this sort of casual flirting. Both are defense mechanisms, both ways for her to try and deal with the emotions she's processing. On the outside, she always tries to present herself as bubbly and confident. So sure of herself and that she always knows right. And truly, she does always believe she knows best. That's exactly why she went and ended things with Kovacs, because she felt drawing things out further than they already had would be cruel to the both of them.

She was the one who had made the choice to stay and get in his bed that first night. She was the one who chose when things ended. They both knew from the beginning she was always going to be the one with that power. And here she is, hardly any time later, pretending like she doesn't have a care in the world apart from getting a marshmallow.

When really, she doesn't care about the sweets. What she wants is for Alina to continue spending time with her, so she wouldn't have to go back to her room alone and sleep in an empty bed. And this sort of playful banter, the flirtation that she knows isn't going to go anywhere, is safe.

It's another mask she can pull down and wear.

It's something she can hide away in for the time being.]

Oh, haven't you heard?

[She teases as she leans in close, so the tips of their noses brush against one another.]

I'm an expert, when it comes to kissing.

[Clara doesn't back down from challenges. No matter how her heart is breaking, her pride won't allow her to step down. So she stubbornly refuses to sit her ass back down and cry, even though she knows this is a dangerous game to be playing. Someone that's desperate to be wanted and loved shouldn't be toying with the idea of kissing someone. Even if that kiss is simply a sweet gesture between friends.

A gesture that brings her lips to press against Alina's, something chaste and sweet. She's mindful to pull away after a couple of seconds, not wanting to make this awkward. Not when there's sweets to be shared, and potentially more secrets to whisper while the fire is still burning and able to keep them warm.

When she pulls away, there's a lopsided and self-conscious sort of smile on her face. She can't go burning two bridges in one night, so she extends a hand as if to ask marshmallow please?]

[peasant]

[ there's a whisper of a moment before they kiss where she wants to freeze time. where she wants to rush to assure clara that she doesn't have to kiss her, if the thought is too repelling. that she should pull away, if it's only going to crack open clara' heart and invite fresh, new heartbreak to ooze out. in the aftermath, she feels foolish for every comforting word that had crowded behind her teeth; clara oswald is a force of nature all on her won. few obstacles stand in her path without finding themselves uprooted. there's no corner a storm into doing as you will it to — it thunders along its own path, at its own leisure.

it's why alina neither pushes nor pulls away from her. doesn't chase after the soft bed of clara's mouth, or retreat back. instead, she allows her lips to speak for her — a matching mirror of clara's own in its slow, shy smile. the self-consciousness clara wears is too familiar for alina to worsen it with teasing, a look alina herself has worn too many times. one she isn't so certain she's shed, even now, peering back at the woman next to her.

after all, there's been so few people that have had any desire to kiss her, as though she was something sullied. even fewer people have taken that brave leap. if this is a competition, alina's not so certain she isn't the inadequately experienced kisser, between the pair of them.

it matters little, in the end. alina plucks a marshmallow from the bag, as pillowy and sweet as clara's kiss had been, and plops it in her outstretched hand. ]

That was satisfactory, I suppose. [ the little rabbit-like wriggle of her nose says otherwise, light and playful. ] Here. For you. You've earned your trophy.

[bossily]

[Clara laughs as she pulls away, the sound still relatively hollow. But alina's warmth serves to keep her anchored to something close to feeling hope, even when things seem at their lowest. The marshmallow is taken without further argument, though she doesn't seem keen to do anything but simply hold onto it for a while.]

I'm not so sure I've earned anything tonight.

[As simple as it had been to put on the mask and attempt to present herself as happy and carefree, it's just as easy around her friend to let that defense mechanism slip away. Oh, there's still an attempt at a half-hearted smile. Alina's trying so hard to comfort her, it wouldn't be right to let her efforts go to waste. But she also can't refrain from speaking bluntly and honestly, not when the words are cycling through her mind.]

But I'll be glad to accept something sweet from someone as sweet as you are.

[And with that, any thought of roasting the marshmallow is forgotten. It's hastily popped into her mouth so it'll be full and she can't say another thing to ruin a perfectly good moment.]