abraxaslogs | it's not your act of creation

Entry tags:

it's not your act of creation

Who: Claire and closed starters + opens
When: September + October
Where: her house in Solvunn, the Horizon, will add more locations as needed
What: An open where Clarie discovers she can control bees (up to 30 ft), an option to bake bread or garden with her, eventual questing, a handful of closed starters and more!
Warnings: Will update as needed
Notes: Please feel free to match the brackets or switch to prose, tag with your heart. Assume wildcarding is on the table, just message me first or hmu on plurk @

babybananas w/any ideas!

look how cute, how adorable, how perfect

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John glances down at the small shot he has suddenly found thrust into his hand and then back up at Claire, raising an eyebrow at the look at she is giving him and the pen and paper in her hand.

He should not be surprised. He does know her, after all, and better than most. He had personally funded some of her more dangerous medical experiments back home in the colonies, and he can only imagine what sort of mischief she might be getting herself into here and now in Abraxas, with magic on her side. He really ought to be paying more attention, he realizes, as he has once again come to her with a quandary of his own.

Deciding that it is only fair and just, a quid pro quo if it were, he raises the little glass to her in a toast then knocks it back all at once in one swallow.

Wrinkling his nose for a moment, he tries to place the flavor. Decidedly herbal, but the spice combination reminds him of... Bread pudding? But he's had worse. Stepping forward, he moves to set the little glass down on the table before her.

"Is the counting of important scientific value?" he asks, wittily. There is already a noticeable heated flush blooming across the fair coloring of his face. Is it hot in here, or is it just him...?

She's glad he asked no questions first, she feels it would taint the experiment, but she can see the flush beginning at his throat. It reminds her a little of when she purposefully made Jamie sick, to see if she could manufacture symptoms of an outbreak. At least John won't go through that sort of discomfort in the Horizon.

"The counting is so I know how long it takes for the effects to kick in." Already she's writing things down; the cinnamon was adjusted to be a bit less thanks to Annabeth's notes, and the thermogenic leaves increased to compensate.

"How are you feeling? Pleasantly warm?" She's already feeling a bit proud of herself for this, to see a visible result very clearly before the ten seconds are up.

John narrows his eyes suspiciously at her, glancing between the woman herself and the little glass, now abandoned on the table before her. The healthy flush is now spreading itself down the length of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt, and up to redden his ears as well.

"I'm certainly not cold," he replies, which is to say warm is a bit of an understatement, and the sensation of heat that is starting to radiate from the very core of himself is honestly beginning to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable, though he doesn't necessarily want to hurt her pride by saying so.

Raising a hand, he warily presses it to his forehead, feeling the tell-tale sensation of sweat beginning to prickle across his skin.

"Oh, dear."

Probably not the words one wants to hear while over-heating, but she's having a thought. "I don't think this can be a one-draught-fits-all situation." He might need a bit less pepper seed than say, one of the demi-gods would. "Alright, not to worry."

Claire first writes down everything she's observing visually, then gives him a sympathetic wince. "Try to imagine when this will be its most useful. It's cold. Someone or something's attacked and we're all simply trying to survive in a shelter in the winter with no way to make fire large enough to warm everyone at once. Imagine the Singularity has stopped working so no one can magically and instantly create warmth."

That's really the larger goal, to have solutions in times of stress, though she does have a thought or two in mind for a shop. Her hands are busy now, putting together cooling things, and soon she has another small glass, pale blue liquid in color.

"Here, drink this, it should counter the effects. Too cold, and we'll just go outside and light the outdoor hearth for you. I'm sorry, but there's no better way to get results than in the Horizon. I'll neve have another opportunity like this in my life."

So many things are possible in this world, that they can't possibly have in their real lives.

John can feel himself beginning to sweat underneath his well-tailored jacket and he reaches up to loosen his neck cloth in the attempt to bring himself some sort of immediate comfort.

“I suppose that it would have been useful to have with me in Canada,” he posits, watching Claire mix together another tincture that he can only suppose is meant to improve this situation. Or possibly it will turn him blue. Only time will tell, really.

Letting out a breath, John prepares himself for what may come, and downs the second potion in a single swallow, handing her back the glass once he does.

The effect is not immediate. He thinks about making another joke about counting to ten but decides to hold his tongue for now, deciding to take the moral high ground.

“Dare I ask how you have familiarized yourself with these ingredients so quickly? I cannot imagine they are all common to North Carolina.” Oh. Does she know about that part yet? Oops…

Claire is writing what she's observing, asking another vital question. "Does it make you feel any sort of pain? Anything that would make the side effects worse than the cure, so to speak." Probably she should've asked that before he swallowed the second shot, but he won't die here, at least. And he can wake up at any point, so he has that going for him.

She's had some vague sense of winding up somewhere in the Americas, and he's assumed it's somewhere along the east coast and in one of the states with heavy fighting during the Revolution. All assumptions based on context clues from her various conversations with John. But this might be one of the biggest revelations yet.

North Carolina. At his blurt she goes still, keeping her eyes on the page in front of her. She doesn't mind the idea of that, she must not have then, either. "I suppose I'll have to let you know in ten years time when I've caught up with myself," she says with a somewhat forced smile. It nags at her sometimes, that he knows more about her life than she does. But they've agreed that with the biggest revelations out of the way, and knowing Brianna and her children are safe, Claire doesn't ask questions.

She does answer his question though, taking a breath and letting it out through her nose. "I snooped through all of Jocelyn's things while she was awaiting execution. I might have..." She gestures vaguely with one hand. "...borrowed some samples from her garden and read through her notes before the Council sealed off her home."

She looks back up at John. "The rest was filled in with research. Feeling cooler?"

It probably is the sort of question one should ask first, but John trusts Claire enough not to hurt him. A little frown appearing between his brows, but he shakes his head nevertheless.

"No," he replies. "It doesn't hurt. Neither of them did. It just feels a little -- strange and unpleasant." He is cooling down now, but he's suspecting she may have overcompensated for the original potion's dosing. Either that, or maybe he's just overly susceptible to whatever it is she's putting in these things.

He does feel somewhat guilty for the North Carolina comment. In his defense, it had just slipped out, as many such a comment would during their long acquaintance over the years. It is sometimes difficult to remember how much she hasn't lived yet, all things considered.

"It's working, I think," he replies, to her second question. "But perhaps I might nevertheless be able to convince you to leave our experiments here for now and head inside for a cup of tea?"

Claire is a bit quieter now, her thoughts turning over in her mind. She knows, obviously, that there's a period of time she has no home with Jamie, but did they have any time at all, when things were calm? She's missing a decade, and now John has pulled at that thread and it's unspooling, questions coming with it.

Distractedly, she writes what he says, strange and unpleasant, then lets out a breath, glad he's suggested a break. He may have only just arrived a bit ago, but she's been at this for hours. Besides that, she has other things on her mind now.

"Of course. I have the last of my summer iced tea blend if you'd like, but there's always a good black tea to be had."

He might recognize her smile as one that hides questions beneath the surface, but for now she keeps them to herself, as promised in the past. "Go, make yourself comfortable, I'll come with the tea." She could conjure it all, but she likes taking care of it herself when she's been relying on magic all day for other things.

Claire should know, of course, that John would give her anything, answer her any question she might ask of him, she need only say the word. It is just a question of whether she wants to hear it, before she has lived it. Whether she wants to open that gate. John has done his best to be as careful as he can, but there is just so much between them she has yet to experience. Fraser's Ridge... Is rather a large missing piece.

He offers her a smile of his own, bobbing his head in a polite nod before taking her advice and letting himself into her little cottage. He pauses to peruse her bookshelves, making note of the titles he does not recognize and some of those he does. His eyes fall on Robinson Crusoe and he plucks it off of the shelf, a smile tugging at his lips as he flips through the pages.

This will be where Claire finds him, lost in thought, when she arrives with the tea.

In the kitchen, Claire takes a moment to gather herself as she uses a bit of magic to ice the tea before bringing the entire pitcher over. When she sees the book he's holding, she smiles to herself. She wonders, always wonders if she's already shared these parts of herself with him in the time they were married, in the years they've gotten to know one another, but she says it anyway.

"That was my favorite as a little girl. He was an adventurer, and I liked to call myself that. I suppose it gave me some comfort over orphan." Setting the tray down, she pours a glass for John first, then makes it a point to gesture to the small bar cart. "It would best be complimented by something clear, if you'd like."

Claire's quiet as she pours for herself, then sits on her couch, angling herself so that she'll be able to see him when he sits.

"I've never had any of this, from my perspective. Not as a child, not through the war, never with Jamie. When I finally had a home it wasn't...right. And then I was brought here. It feels like the first time I've had a home, and the chance to settle." She hasn't asked a question, and she opens her mouth, then closes it again, trying to find what she truly wants to know.

"Did I have that, at all?"

She doesn't specify if she means with him or with Jamie. She only wants to know if she'll ever have a home if she leaves this place, or will she forever be called to places that are nice, but temporary shelter at best?

John smiles at her as she enters, his smile quirking sideways as she offers her suggestion, and he wanders his way over to the bar cart to peruse what might be there before selecting a bottle of gin. He adds a splash into his glass, setting it down on the table nearby in case Claire might care to add some for herself, before lowering himself into the armchair opposite, listening as she speaks.

Never had a home. It's odd, to hear her speak of such a concept, when he knows so much about the home she builds for herself with Jamie after the fact. But he understands a little what she means, and what it must have been like before that. In Scotland -- well, that had been Jamie's home, not hers.

John cradles the glass between his fingers, contemplating what he should and should not say, before offering her the small twist of a smile, nodding gently.

"You did," he replies. "You do. You..." He takes in a breath, pressing his lips together as he thinks, before settling on, "You build it together. Much like this place, I think." His lips quirk wider. "History does seem to have a habit of repeating itself, one way or another."

Claire releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, relieved in a way she hadn't been expecting. There's a version of her living the life John's been careful to avoid telling her too much about, and it settles her to know that whether she stays here in Abraxas or she's forced to go, home will not remain just out of reach.

Adding a splash of gin into her own tea, she smiles, exhaling a soft laugh through her nose.

"What I've built...I thought it was incomplete for a long time. That nothing could feel right, here, without Jamie." After a pause to ship her tea, she finishes her thought, thumb tracing the side of her glass. "I spent so many years of my life believing I needed someone else to be completely myself. It took building all of this to realize I was wrong."

She'd held onto the past so hard, perhaps Boston didn't have to be such a struggle for her, if only she'd known how to let go and rebuild herself.

John offers her a gentle smile, understanding how difficult it must have been for her to find herself here, after having been so long without him. He had witnessed her grief when she had thought he had died, and in truth he supposes that finding herself here was losing him again, in a way. Losing everything and everyone she had known and loved. At least he had had her, but her connection to him wasn't nearly as strong as his had been, when he'd first arrived.

"I have always known you to be a very strong woman, Claire," he says, softly. "Be it circumstance that made you so, or your sheer stubborn determination." His smile quirks at her. "Where you live, when you settle down... Is very much like this place, in all respects. Your garden, your kitchen." His lips quirk. "Your bees. Because you know yourself, my dear. Then and there, and here and now. And you need no man to tell you that."

"Thank you for saying that John, truly." She's never lacked for self-confidence (mostly), and while she doesn't often say it to herself, she does know she's strong. But it's something else when others say it to her, never knowing how to respond. Still, she manages to match his smile, taking a sip of tea. Then, in an attempt at humor, she jokes:

"You can't say I don't have a type."

The similarities are striking, both ~~himbos~~ men who have lived their trials and gone through hell and are somehow still alive to speak of it, to have enough room within them to love her. And they're fit. So fit it's nearly criminal she's been this lucky twice. Immediately, she takes a longer drink, shrugging one shoulder casually.

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it's not your act of creation

𝙄𝙑. 𝙃𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙯𝙤𝙣 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

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