clara oѕwald. ❛ тнe ιмpoѕѕιвle gιrl. ❜ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oswinforthewin) wrote2014-07-24 10:02 pm
oswinforthewin) wrote2014-07-24 10:02 pm
( impossible darkness ) noir nights.
DUE TO DELAYS THE 7:00PM BUS IS CANCELLED. PLEASE REROUTE.
Annabell sighed in irritation, looking at the watch on her wrist. For all the advancements The Conclave spoke of? Things were constantly breaking down. Still, they were led to believe this was life as normal. Only those from The Belly (as it was oh so affectionately called) knew different. She had been born in The Belly, and when she saw the world up above for the first time? She couldn't believe it. Now it made her skin crawl, but she had to keep the role up.
Even if she did miss teaching.
Her legs uncrossed and Annabell pushed herself up from the bench in the bus station. She straightened her dress and grabbed her coat. From the pockets she pulled out a small case of cigarettes and started to light it. It would be a long walk back to her apartment, so she might as well enjoy herself. Maybe she'd see some of the sights on her way back. It was a dream of hers as she chased the imaginary amber leaves that they said fell from real trees in the fall. A dream that soured and dried up when she finally got to the surface.
She almost regretted the decision to move upwards. Regrets, bitterness, and cheap wine was the life that Annabell lived, when she wasn't singing for the people she couldn't stand. They said she was a rising star in the music scene. Not that she cared. Her dark red lipstick stained the end of the cigarette as she shrugged on her coat. All she hoped for at the moment was that some fan wouldn't find her. Unless, of course, they wanted to offer her a ride home.
Annabell sighed in irritation, looking at the watch on her wrist. For all the advancements The Conclave spoke of? Things were constantly breaking down. Still, they were led to believe this was life as normal. Only those from The Belly (as it was oh so affectionately called) knew different. She had been born in The Belly, and when she saw the world up above for the first time? She couldn't believe it. Now it made her skin crawl, but she had to keep the role up.
Even if she did miss teaching.
Her legs uncrossed and Annabell pushed herself up from the bench in the bus station. She straightened her dress and grabbed her coat. From the pockets she pulled out a small case of cigarettes and started to light it. It would be a long walk back to her apartment, so she might as well enjoy herself. Maybe she'd see some of the sights on her way back. It was a dream of hers as she chased the imaginary amber leaves that they said fell from real trees in the fall. A dream that soured and dried up when she finally got to the surface.
She almost regretted the decision to move upwards. Regrets, bitterness, and cheap wine was the life that Annabell lived, when she wasn't singing for the people she couldn't stand. They said she was a rising star in the music scene. Not that she cared. Her dark red lipstick stained the end of the cigarette as she shrugged on her coat. All she hoped for at the moment was that some fan wouldn't find her. Unless, of course, they wanted to offer her a ride home.
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She sat back, leaning against the couch and let herself sink into the massive blanket for a moment. He traced her all the way back to her flat. She'd heard of men chasing down women but this was a little different. Not that she even felt in the mood to joke like that. Instead she looked to the side as she bit down on her lip.
"If you can do that, then what do you need my help for?" An honest question really, even if she was still heavily guarded and very determined to push him away. "Can't you just see their timeline and know what they're about to do? I'm not sure why you think you need my help at all in this... or why you're even worried about me. Because you are, so don't try to hide it."
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"Because I'm trying to save you!" Really, was that so difficult to put in her mind? That maybe he didn't want to see her dead? "I'm a Time Lord, I can see different time streams of everyone around me. I know about events that can, will, or might happen..." There's a pause, "And I can do something about that, unless it's a fixed point." This wasn't, or really, it didn't have to be.
"And Why? Do I have to have a reason?"
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"Everyone has reasons." She said. There was little explanation of where she was going until she reached the glass cabinet in the back of the room and removed a bottle of Scotch. "Why would you bother to save me? I'm not anyone really important."
Still. He answered her questions. "The Conclave are the ones who rule the Belly. There are five heads, each who over see a different part of the society. They're my bosses."
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After her revelation of the Conclave, he looks taken aback. "Your bosses? How do you work for them? In what capacity?"
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Then her head tilted to the side. She wasn't surprised by his reaction, nor amused. Instead she simply studied it. "You haven't figured it out yet? You're clever. Really clever. You can't be that slow." She crossed her legs and pushed herself to sit fully on the table. "I'm a spy. I was sent to immerse myself on the Surface and pass back any information to the Conclave. Before it was just couriering messages, then it became more. Eventually I just worked my way up."
Annabell leaned towards him. "There was a reason why I asked you how you knew the name 'Clara.' What do you think the reason was?"
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Or was keeping a secret. "Then you must know they're planning on destroying the belly." Now why Professor Song lead him here exactly, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter now that he knew what was to happen and how he could see the timeline shortening by the milisecond as it ticked on by.
"There will be flames, people trapped, screams and images of horror you can't even imagine. And those above will continue walking on about their day as if they hadn't a clue. The stench will be addressed as pipelines bursting and renovation works." He speaks in a monotone, voice calm and flat, and his gaze unwavering and unblinking from Clara's.
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Because, even more so than his Clara, Annabell would not budge unless she had absolute proof in something. Belief wasn't a trait of this version of Clara. Too many things had happen in such a short span of time that it made believing in anything difficult.
Annabell turned her head as she poured herself a glass. "My friend Johnny runs that bar. If you really want to get to the bottom of an actual conspiracy to destroy the Belly? You've got to talk to him. Otherwise you're just hearing whatever they want to say."
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Because he saw the newspaper and knew they had about a week until this is to happen; enough time for him to do something about it. "I don't know why Professor Song wanted me here, but this is the only thing I can possibly understand she needed me for." And why she was no longer here was something he didn't understand either.
"I can stop this from happening Clara."
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Her arms crossed under her chest, legs still crossed over one another as she stared at him. If he was telling the truth he'd still need to go talk to Johnny. The reasons would remain disclosed until she knew she could trust him.
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He pours another glass and slides it in her direction. "I can't do this alone. Or I rather not do it alone."
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"I am not looking smarmy in a night gown! You've barged into my flat while I was sleeping! Do you think I just sleep in my clothes?" Annabell slammed her hands down on the table under her and slid the glass away. "You're asking for my help and I've been asking you all night to give me a good reason to trust me. You realize you haven't done that once? You're a bloody good kisser but that doesn't mean I'm going to jump to my feet and swoon after you! Oh, no, I've got no idea what sort of women you are used to dealing with but that is not the kind of woman I am! I'm not some pretty face or young girl who is going to jump without a very, very, good reason to do so."
Annabell leaned forward to meet him, brown eyes set ablaze as she stared right into his eyes. "So, start proving why I should jump, clever boy, or leave. Because I'm not going anywhere until you do."
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"Clara Oswin Oswald, that's your name from another time line I've been to. You've traveled with me on numerous occasions. We met in the Underground in London. We've shared chips and I taught you how to fly the TARDIS - and I don't teach just anybody that.
"You're a nanny to two children that love you very much. You're brilliant, Clara, although maybe not... at baking. Nevertheless, I trust you. I've lost people, friends and family. I've lost more than you can possibly imagine, and I wanted to be alone and rot in my own misery but you changed that. You have given me hope and made me believe just maybe I'm not some horrible monster to everyone I meet."
He stops to ruffle his hair in agitation, now becoming loss with words. "I didn't know I'd meet you here," His voice was softer, "And I don't know what Professor Song has intended for me here, but there must be a reason in the end, and I hate seeing innocent people die for selfish reasons."
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Clara finally released the breath she had been holding. There wasn't much of a point in denying who he was now. Even if she had wanted to, Clara knew for certain now just who he was. In a way she wondered how she had ever forgotten, but it was more the sense of knowing without knowing if that made any sense at all. Everything he had said sounded so familiar, but it also felt like water trickling out if her fingers. She could hold onto it for just a moment before it slipped away.
She said nothing as she uncrossed her legs and slipped off the table. Her hand gestured in the direction of the shower if he needed to use it. However she went straight to the bedroom to change.
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Following the direction of her pointing he realizes she's offering him to take a shower if need be. Feeling stubborn, "I'm fine." Though he probably could use with a good teeth brushing as he fished out a toothbrush from his pocket and excused himself from her to do so.
After returning back out, he's surprised to find her completely dressed. "I though you needed to sleep? I did wake you up after all..."
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Clara straightened out her dress with the hat under her arm as she stepped back into the room. She toyed with her hair a few moments and shrugged at his statement.
"No one is going back to sleep after that display. You probably woke up the neighbors too." Except she didn't have any neighbors to wake up. She slipped on her hat and shoes on, Clara opened the door to the flat. "Come on then. We've got a conspiracy to catch for you."
The door closed behind them and Clara went straight to the lift. She pushed the button, waiting until the Doctor was standing beside her again. "Like I said. If you want to find out about what the Conclave might or might not be doing? We've got to talk to Johnny. that club he runs also acts as a base of operations. He's been convinced for years that the Conclave isn't doing the jobs they ought to be doing." She tilted her head up towards him as the doors opened. "And I might pass some information regarding my job from them to him."
Oh, a spy for both sides. That was a bit unexpected.
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Buttoning his jacket back up once again, he's eager to take off into the night's darkness, though he couldn't say he was enthralled with going back to the pub. Deep down, something told him he could absolutely trust Annabell, even if she wasn't exactly the Clara he knew and adored, but she certainly was coming around.
"How long have you been working for this lot? How do you know you can trust them?" He certainly didn't.
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That was a shared sentiment. The whole point of sending the Doctor there on his own at first was so that she could avoid going there herself. It wasn't even because she wanted to sleep really. Clara had been actively avoiding "Johnny" for some time now. She shifted uncomfortably at the whole situation. Oh, the Doctor definitely was going to owe her a few hours of sleep for all this.
"I've been working for the Conclave for a year." She looked back up at him. "I've known Johnny for a long time. He was always a bit bonkers about things that the government was up to, and even the surface. A few years ago he got involved in this information ring and somehow ended up running the whole thing. He's always had a way of making people believe what he does."
As for his other question? "I don't really trust anyone."
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"C'mon then!" He dashed on ahead of her, leading the way back towards the bar. Only about an hour had passed since he left, but certainly it had to be near closing time.
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One hand kept the hat on her head as she rushed after him. It'd be so much easier if he had grabbed her hand along with his dashing out!
They reached The Laughing Man and Clara stepped inside first, looking around at the lounge. Quite a few patrons were staying which meant they weren't closing anytime soon--even if their hours said they were. She glanced up at the Doctor before heading over to the bar and leaning over the counter. The bartender recognized her immediately, but made a face at her muttered request. Clara insisted on her request before he nodded and took his leave. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she turned to look back at the Doctor.
"He'll be right down."
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It didn't really matter to him, though knowing a disaster is set to happen by the end of the week bothered him. That nagging feeling of wanting to run was making his skin crawl and itch. It just doesn't have to end up that way.
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