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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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.
no subject