ximilialog | open ; catch all for October

Entry tags:

open ; catch all for October

CHARACTERS: Clara Oswald & OPEN
LOCATION: Around the station
DATE: 10/17-10/21
CONTENT: Clara pops back onto the station after a canon update
WARNINGS: Mentions of death

I. Twice Returned
[Time is such a funny thing, really. In her time spent traveling with the Doctor, she's come to understand that it can be such a meaningless thing. Except for when it's important. And in the series of events that have just unfolded for her, time feels incredibly important. Vital, even.

The thing is, she remembers being on the station before. Remembers her friends there, and the missions. And she remembers the orbs. It had all been one big adventure before. But then she was sent back, gone in a blink of an eye. For those close to her, it's not likely they even will notice she's gone. For her though, time passes more slowly. Hours turn to days away, and days to week. Before she knows it, years have passed. Time spent aging and growing, developing into a different person. Clara Oswald has a home on Earth maybe, but she no longer feels the same sort of attachment to it that she once had. With the loss of Danny Pink and the intensity of her connection growing stronger with each adventure after, Clara's left more and more of her life on Earth behind.

Sure, it's fine to tap in and out of London to check in on people like Rigsy. People who are friends. People who -

Well, people who Clara's willing to die for. Her reckless streak has finally caught up to her in the form of a chronolock. One that's recently taken her life. Or maybe it took her life billions of years ago, things are a bit fuzzy at the moment. She recalls coming back, recalls learning the Doctor spent billions of years in a personal hell because of her dying. She recalls stealing her own TARDIS, recalls making the one person she loves more than anyone forget everything about her.

She had done it for his own good, and the good of the universe. It's a bit hard to justify staying together when you know an entire prophecy was written as a warning to keep you apart. It won't do to have their relationship bring on the hybrid.

Which is exactly why she's confused as she's pulled back into the station and has to try and sort things out. Is the Doctor still here, she wonders. Have billions of years passed here too? Only a few days? Weeks?

Time had started to feel meaningless for her.

That was before the raven swooped in and changed everything.

Now it feels increasingly important to pinpoint exact moments in time. Her fingers press against the inside of her left wrist as she slowly navigates the hallways. There's a heartbeat there. But there shouldn't be. When she bumps into someone as she walks she owlishly blinks up at them, her fingers slipping away.]

How long has it been since the last mission?

II. Sunlight Room
[For those that know her well enough, it's easy to tell that something is a little off. She looks a little older in her face, her eyes holding a maturity that she had previously been lacking. She's seen and been through so many things in her time away that being back here almost feels surreal. It doesn't feel like it should be possible.

But she's the impossible girl, or at least she once had been. She knows from experience that anything is possible. Usually she's the one forcing the impossible to happen. There's almost something comical about the fact that she finally was in full control of her own destiny. She had the ability to be the Doctor in her own right, traveling whenever and wherever she wanted. She could face her death when she was ready and go back to it the long way around.

She finally had all the control she wanted, only to have it torn away from her again. But she knew now she had a distinct purpose for being here. She couldn't remember her regret from before, but knew that it couldn't be as important as the one she wanted to undo now. She would do whatever it took to protect the Doctor. Even if it meant rewriting time itself.

She stands in the sunlight room, head tipped so she can peer up at the artificial light. It's almost like she's looking for something. She hears the sound of someone walking past and reaches out to grab hold of their hand. There's no words at first, no sign of what she wants. Really, she's just desperate for some kind of contact right now. A reminder to anchor her to the reality of being back and having a purpose again.]

Do you think this station had a purpose before we all arrived here?

III. Kitchen

[Apparently coming back to life and getting her heartbeat back means that the threat of being caught between her last heartbeat and death doesn't have to be an immediate threat. What is the immediate issue is that no amount of food seems to be enough. Clara's typically anxious over the amount of supplies on the station and worrying about whether or not everyone has enough. She started her hydroponic garden to help ensure the children have plenty to eat. But now that concern is far from her mind as she camps out in the kitchen and eats.

She spends hours grazing her way around the kitchen, only pausing when she catches sight of someone else entering. Her mouth is usually full when this happens, and she swallows what's in her mouth to try and awkwardly smile.]

Right, so...I can explain.

[She still thinks supplies are an issue and she should apologize for just stuffing her face this way.]

IV. Personal Quarters - closed close CR
[Clara spends as little time as possible in the room she shares with the Doctor. She finds herself not really wanting or needing to sleep those first handful of days back, only getting some catnaps here and there around the station. But when she finally feels disgusting and in ready of freshening up, she makes her way back to her quarters at long last.

After cleaning up and getting a change of clothes, she spends an extraordinary amount of time looking in the small mirror hanging on the wall by her bed. Typically her ego doesn't see any issue with admiring her reflection. Her purpose for looking today has little to do with how amazing her hair looks or how on point her eyeliner is. No, she's far more concerned about something else. It's easy to pretend like she hasn't been gone at all with the others. When it comes to the Doctor...well, she has her concerns. He'll be able to tell she's different immediately, just from the look in her eyes.

But it's the number that's tattooed on the back of her neck that she's worried about. Is it even still there? Clara gathers up her short hair to lift it up and turn in a way she can look at what she's afraid will be there. And sure enough, the numbers 001 are there, taunting her. There's no escaping the chronolock. Even here in another dimension and possibly even another universe entirely it follows her. It's a reminder of what she has waiting for her. Of what she has to hide from the man that's willing to tear the fabric of the universe apart if it means protecting her.

No matter what happens, the Doctor can never know her fate.

She's so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn't hear the door open at first. Her close friends know they're always able to just come inside, and it's likely the Doctor could pop back in as well. As soon as she realizes she's not alone her hair is dropped, hopefully masking any sign of the fact she's marked with a permanent countdown. She forces a smile, though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's able to keep her tone as fond and teasing as ever, which is a win. Banter is exactly what she needs to cheer up right about now.]

Let me guess. You want me to come see something you've done that shows how amazingly clever you are?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She tries shrugging off his worry, because she can tell from the look on his face that he's concerned. Her arms cross over her chest as she feels a frown overtaking her face. There's a lot of ways she can answer his question, but none of them feel right.]

Whoever's in charge here sent me back home. But then I got pulled back in, and I'm not sure how long it's been.

[The blunt and honest truth is all she can give right now. It's better to ask him than the Doctor. She doesn't want to make him worry.]

[He regards her quietly for a good few seconds, but it feels even longer. She went back?]

On the network, people were talking about a couple of us who vanished mid-mission. Natasha and Shuri. Supposedly it was some kind of mistake that they got sent back.

[But that's not really the same as this, is it? Clara was gone and returned to them. Is that good? Bad? He's glad she's here, but is she?

Well, he's not looking any less worried.]

Yeah, but how do we know for sure that it was just a mistake? No one here knows anything beyond what we little Viveca is letting us in on.

[And she's completely on edge now with not knowing more than they do. She can't believe she was fine simply existing here and going on missions before without knowing more. She understands now what the Doctor had been trying to tell her shortly after his arrival. There's always a catch. ]

I never thought to question it till now. And never wondered -

[She hesitates, but goes to stand in close enough that she can sit beside him and whisper.]

What's the real purpose of our taking the orbs?

Been wondering that a while now.

[He straightens his back and frowns, letting his arms settle over his knees. This is the stuff that keeps him up at night, that kept him occupied during too much of their time in Braccia.]

They're incredibly powerful and incredibly dangerous, and here we are concentrating them all in one place. If I were to guess, the Commander of this station, or someone else involved, has made a deal with them.

And we're just the mules meant to run them from point A to point B?

[She sighs, leaning over so she's resting up against him. They paint a comical picture of an odd duo, and it feels like if he leans over he very well may squish her. But he's solid and she considers him a friend, and so she doesn't mind literally leaning against him for support as she tries to sort through all her thoughts.]

I feel so stupid for leaping into agreeing to get the orbs without asking more questions. We have no idea who the Commander even is, much less what their true motivations are.

I know.

[It comes as a sigh of agreement, an echo of their shared contact. Support, voiced as well as given to her as she leans against him.]

We didn't know what we were getting into at first. And I'm not normally one to settle for something that sounds too good to be true without asking a few questions, but at the time I was desperate to take what seemed like my only option.

[He hesitates briefly, because he hasn't really told anyone this so directly, but,]

I'd be dead if not for this place. Maybe that's part of the plan, though. Pick out easy targets who are too eager to agree.

[His admission hits her like a punch to the chest. Her breath catches, and her eyes squeeze closed tight as she tries not to let the way her stomach sharply twists put her on edge.]

I think I understand how you feel.

[Her words are quiet and resigned. She accepts that death is waiting for her when she leaves this place. This is all she has left. Does that make her an easier target than she was before?]

But I think they're looking for people they know can be controlled by their regret. Someone that's too eager to agree may be initially easy to get on board, but they need people willing to stay as the chess pieces in order to keep things here going.

[He can feel the flinch before he sees it, and glances over at her to see her eyes closed, face tense. That's some shit luck, he didn't mean to bring up anything painful for her as well in saying that, but he's gone and done it. His lips press thin and he reaches up to settle a hand on one of hers.]

So here we are, eager to help, and good at it, too.

[There are problems with this argument also, of course, but rather than launching into how much trust they should or should not grant their hosts straight away, he wants to make sure Clara is hanging in there after what he said earlier. Doesn't feel right to continue on ahead theorizing if she's hurting. His eyes are on her still, sympathetic.]

Some of us more than others.

[She lightly jokes, giving him a nudge. Her hand turns beneath his so their palms can touch. She knows that she's good at helping and is always eager to do so if she can. But right now, he's doing an amazing job at helping her stay centered.

She goes quiet after that, until a single detail that she desperately wants to know the answer to demands she ask him a question. It's intrusive and she knows it, but she hopes he'll be able to forgive her.]

Is your regret changing the fact you died? Is that why you're so eager to help?

[Law aside, it's been ages since he had so much physical contact with anyone. In fact, aside from a few regrettable one-night interactions, and hand-to-hand combat, it's been a good many years. It's nice. Kind of funny, too, how completely dwarfed her hand is by his.

Her question would be harder to answer if he hadn't already explained himself to Newton and found it wasn't so hard to talk about after all. Honestly, he could talk about Law all day long to anyone who would listen if they'd let him.]

Not exactly. I mean, I'm not doing it for myself. I was taking care of someone back home, a sick kid. He needs someone to look after him, and if I don't fix things, he'll be left on his own. He can barely walk on his own, so...

[Thinking about that poor kid dying alone out there in the snow is infinitely worse than what happened to himself. He told Law to get out of there, and maybe he did, but how far can he really make it without someone to keep him safe and warm?]

[Suddenly, she feels incredibly selfish and like an awful person. Here he is, trying to save himself so he can be there for a child. She could argue that she was doing the same, trying to stay alive so she could go back to her classroom of children. But that was a part of her old life that she had long since left behind.

Her hand shifts so she can twine a few of her fingers through his. The size difference between their hands makes her softly laugh.]

He's lucky to have you.

[And she hopes that for his sake, everything they're doing here is worth something and will make a difference.]

We've been through a lot together. I promised him we'd travel the world once he got better. I want to keep that promise.

[That's all. Simple, right? He's worked it all out, how to just alter that cascade of events that led to so much suffering. Dressrosa will still have a future, too - his message will be delivered, rather than intercepted by his brother's counterspy.

So it's hard to entertain the idea that bringing the orbs together could cause some sort of awful harm he can't even picture, or that perhaps this promise to undo regrets is all a big lie. But the questions have to be asked, because to know an awful truth is better than to charge forward through other people's worlds, blind and ignorant to the damage they're causing.

Rosinante nearly hesitates to ask the next question, but fair's fair, right?]

What about you?

[Oh. He's asking about her. She goes tense against him.]

What about me?

[The question is turned around so he'll have to elaborate and be specific to get information out of her. His concern is appreciated, and he has a way of making her feel secure enough that she drops her guard to discuss things. But she's still unsure about revealing too much about herself now, while she's still trying to mentally sort things out.]

I haven't made a promise to anyone that brings me here, if that's what you're wondering.

No, I... didn't mean anything specific by it. Just wondering what you'd change.

[She doesn't feel comfortable with the topic, that's clear enough. Any prying will stay gentle, with easy ways to sidestep, because he's not meaning to interrogate. He even throws in a little squeeze of her hand, hoping to help reassure her.]

But you don't have to talk about it if you'd rather not. I've heard some people speculating that there may be things we have in common between us with the sort of bargains made with the orbs, but to me that seems unlikely. I have a feeling they're not that picky.

I came here to change my mother's death. It's not what I'd choose to change any longer, if I had a choice.

[She lets that admission sit out in the air, wondering what sort of person that makes her. Now that years have passed, the loss of her mother doesn't sting the way that it used to. She's grown and matured, developed into a woman that understands that her mother lives on through her.]

I know she'd want me to change my own death. But I'm not sure that's a possibility.

[Now that she's gone and said that, she feels incredibly vulnerable. Her hand slips free from beneath his, and she climbs up to her feet to stand.]

And I also think that makes me a more valuable pawn now than I was before. Desperation makes people incredibly useful.

[Heavy stuff, for sure, and yet he sympathizes. There was a time in his life where he would have given anything to try and change his father's death. His biological father, rather than the man who raised him, that is - but could he really have made a difference at that age?

All his life he's failed to stand up to his brother, and the moment he tried, it got him killed. Some luck.

She stands as if to leave, and he lets his hand fall back over his knees. If she wants to go, then he'll let her, even if he'd rather she stayed.]

You and me both, then. Desperate and useful. Maybe we'll be wrong, though, and helping the orbs will all work out for the benefit of everyone. Kinda have to hope.

[Because wouldn't that be nice? Then he wouldn't have to worry so much about the things he'll do for the little boy he left in the snow, if it's all truly for the best of everyone in the end.]

[She almost leaves the conversation at that, as the emotions she's feeling are so heavy that she almost can't breathe. The weight against her chest is mounting to the point she feels close to hyperventilating or crying. The initial reaction is to run from having to discuss things like this, even if she's the one that initiated the conversation in the first place.]

Hope is always good, but it's better to be realistic. Prepare for the worst so we can be surprised when something better happens.

[And in that moment, she realizes that's how she's spent so much of the last year of her life. The risks grew greater and greater on each adventure she and the Doctor went on. She became more and more reckless, valuing her life so little that she was willing to just throw it away in the name of keeping someone else alive. She had been so focused on preparing for the worst in every other outing that she hadn't even given herself time to look for a better path.

Maybe that was her purpose for being here. To fix that by teaching herself to look for the good again, to find ways to make something better happen. For both herself and the Doctor.

She doesn't leave as she had been planning. She doesn't sit back down, but stands beside him.]

You have to promise me that you'll be careful not to make yourself too useful.

[Despite advocating for a glimmer of hope, he does nod alongside what she says in response. He has two parts within him, always - and while the realist often wins out, his life would be awfully dark if he hadn't tried to find the bright parts of it and reach for them. It's hope that keeps him fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, because otherwise it would be hard most days to not just throw in the towel and let injustice win. And it's hope that let him come this far in his own life, too. If he can't fix things, if he still dies young, at least he made a difference along the way.

She stays put and he leans his head against her, then nods.]

You too. Wherever the line is, we'll have to learn to walk it.

[Is it really as simple as that? He makes her feel like maybe it can be. And for now, that's enough. Clara's content to reach over and press her hand against his cheek, the one that isn't resting against her. Her touch slips upward until her fingers comb through his hair. It seems like she might be trying to comfort him, but really she's reassuring herself.]

Course we will. There's no other choice but to try.

[Her head turns, pressing an affectionate peck against his forehead. He's been a good friend to her in the short time they've known one another. she can only hope to be the same for him.]

[Clara has a confidence within her that Rosinante does not understand, but absolutely admires. It's the confidence to be herself, to express herself. He's usually so withdrawn, so detached. Sure, he's nice to other people, he likes people and wants to be liked in return, but he doesn't really befriend people easily. Certainly doesn't go around holding people's hands and kissing them on the forehead. She makes it look so simple to just walk up, take someone by the arm, and make them feel at ease.

He's had little of that in his life, and he soaks it up like a drowning man starved for oxygen, though he thinks he may never be able to tell her just how much it means to him.

The peck, admittedly, does bring out a bit of a blush to accompany his smile.]

Glad you're back. Wouldn't be much fun here without you around.

[It's impossible to miss that blush. Seeing it makes her smile, and she just holds onto his hand a little tighter. Not everyone enjoys her tactile nature. But he really seems to not mind, and possibly even is eating up the attention. So she has no problem giving him more, pressing another chaste kiss to the side of his head.]

Oh, you're stuck with me now. There's absolutely no getting rid of me.

[Her head turns just enough to rest her cheek against him. And they sit there like that, Clara taking great delight in the fact that she's finally feeling a sense of contentment.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

open ; catch all for October

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject