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ʜᴇʟʟᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛɪᴇ ([personal profile] retrorsum) wrote2018-08-26 09:20 pm

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oddbod: (our hearts fill with miracles)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, it's alright. I didn't mean...

[She wasn't reaching for some kind of sympathy, is what she wants to say. Instead, she just shakes her head.]

It's a long story, and it's not a very nice one, but I'm fine. [Yeah, okay, she cries every night and every black bird makes her clam up, but she's fantastic.] Wine always helps, though.
oddbod: (high achiever don't you see)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
Well, it is my deathday. Surely there's a discount for that.

[Of course, that would require explaining immortality to a liquor store employee in the wee hours of the morning, but she's had to pull together worse speeches.]
oddbod: (all of the pain and all of the love)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
I'll bet you can.

[It has the bones of a flirtation, but not the heart. Clara speeds up a little, heels crunching on dead twigs. She wraps her arms around herself, a mechanical reaction to cold, even though she barely feels it.]

... Last time I was tramping around a forest in the dark, I got kidnapped by Vikings.
oddbod: (in all chaos there is calculation)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
They were pretty nice.

[Yep, keep thinking about the Vikings and not whatever's lurking in these trees, just out of sight.]

One of them's traveling with me now, actually.
oddbod: (but i promise we're not mean)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Clara nods, but then goes quiet for a moment. She's had six weeks to wrap her head around it all, but it's the first time she's had to voice it. When she does, it's with a flat distance, almost detached.]

My life on Earth ended in 2015. My body's buried in a churchyard up in Lancashire, and I heard the funeral was lovely. But I had the advantage of a very clever best friend who wouldn't let me go gentle into that good night.

[He did the raging against the dying of the light; she was just along for the right.]

Do you know what an extraction chamber is? Bit of handy Time Lord tech?
oddbod: (who's driving this anyway)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[Clara gives a succinct nod.]

That's your answer, then.

[River's a smart girl, and she knows the Doctor. She can work out what he did on her own.]

My body's on Earth, so I know I go back and finish dying eventually. But until then, I've got a stolen TARDIS, a billion-year-old Viking girl, and a heart that doesn't beat.
oddbod: (pulling out my hair)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
You may.

[Clara doesn't wait for River to find it herself, though; she steps closer and takes River's wrist, looped gently in her hands, leading it up until her fingers find the soft skin beneath Clara's jaw. She's not as warm as most humans, devoid of the heat of moving blood, and there is no pulse to be found.

Her eyes land on River's, waiting for a response.]
oddbod: (i'm colder than this home)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[Clara breathes in, the softest gasp, as her fingertips find the first pulse, and then the second. Something clenches in her chest, and she can't help the way she presses in more insistently, cupping River's jaw with her hand. If asked, she couldn't explain what the sudden need is, why the feeling of River's pulse - pulses - brings about such a reaction. Maybe it's been so long since Clara's felt a heart, felt something, that her fingers scrabble for the first touch since the night she died, aching to bury herself in a person instead of a grave.

She's not surprised, to feel two heartbeats. She had always assumed that the woman who married the Doctor must have been like him. But to actually feel it, after weeks of missing him with every molecule of her being, of crying into every last word and every last touch...

She starts to draw her hand away, after a bit, eyes cast down and apologetic.]


Sorry.

[Her cheeks might be pink, if she were still alive.]
oddbod: (tales from the back pages)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-25 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[Clara looks down at their joined hands, and shakes her head, a far more timid, reserved movement than the energy she usually exudes.]

We tried. We thought running away would solve it. [The hope on fire in his eyes, the cold in her chest dragging her back and back down. Five years, dwindling down to the ashes, and the Doctor still fighting to keep them alive.] My death's fixed. But it's alright, an' I mean that.

[Her eyes finally flick back up to River's, wide and young and old. Scared, and at peace.]

It'll be over one day, and I'll be ready. I'm not afraid.
oddbod: (led by a beating heart)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-27 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[She gives River a sideways half-smile, thankful and quiet, before she keeps walking.

Clara is fairly certain that they've been going in a straight line all this while, but she supposes that it doesn't quite matter. Eventually they'll reach an edge, and neither of them has to worry about exhaustion or dehydration or the cold. If they have to walk until day breaks, it'll be worth it to get away from that camp.]


... Now that you know- [She cuts herself off, twists her cold hands. Starts again.] I need your help with something.

[It could be anyone's help, really, but she'd rather it be River's. She trusts River, all in all.]
oddbod: (my mind's like a deadly disease)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-27 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
I don’t know what my body can withstand, now that it’s like this. I mean, I’ve tested it some, but...

[It’s hard, on her own, pushing past the fear and getting out of her head enough to really try.]

I don’t want to find out at the wrong time, when it matters. I want to know its limits.
oddbod: (of a neon sign)

[personal profile] oddbod 2018-11-27 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
[She’s honesty surprised by the ease of it. Really? Just name a date?]

I’ll let you know.

[The Doctor would never allow it, she thinks with a bitter fondness. He would rage against her cavalier hand, against her even risking that something will stick. But she has to know. She can’t let death sneak up on her, not if she’s going to be who she needs to be here. Who she’s trying to be.]

I’m fairly certain I can’t drown.

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