[ he has little interest in a literal winter wonderland.
klaus has spent the majority of this event on edge, waiting for the catch despite the evidence there is no catch. (no catch besides the continuing violation of their minds and autonomy, that is.) it's halfway through the afternoon (and a thorough exploration of the ski lodge itself) that he grudgingly decides to weather the actual weather, if only to have a better idea of this event up-close.
in part because a portion of him does hope this will be uneventful. rebekah has been downtrodden since her doctor left, despite her brave face to the contrary. freya has been at her wit's end to limits that have even begun to concern him, at rebekah's urgings.
despite the initial wariness in her eyes this morning, caroline wants so fervently to make this a respite. he cannot help but want it for those he loves, if not out of sheer common sense. (just because he craves a fight, it does not make it prudent to seek it.)
so finds klaus, wrapped up not quite as thoroughly as a normally warm-blooded person should be (sans hat, but not without a wool coat, scarf, and gloves) on his way outside.
that is until he catches sight of a familiar silhouette looking out a window at the fluff of falling snow.he pauses, watches her posture a moment, and walks over. ] Considering it?
( clementine used to love the snow (and winter, and all these little details about winter she's forgotten like hot chocolate and the way the snow falls on the trees and how much fun it can be). there was an actual blizzard in her world before she ended up here. she shot kenny without any gloves on. her hands and face were freezing. she was wet and broken. she felt cold for days after she came back to wonderland like the ice had gotten into her veins, and now she's looking at people running out with sleds and having snowball fights and taking joy in the snow.
and she remembers. it used to be fun, and it should probably be easier for her than it is. to have fun.
she smirks a little when he speaks. it's pretty easy to recognize klaus' voice. no one else talks fancy like he does. she looks up at him after a moment. )
Maybe. The last time I built a snowman I was eight. ( that was a long time ago for her, okay? practically several lifetimes by the feel of it. ) I wasn't very good at it. It'd always fall apart.
What about you? ( it looks like he's dressed to head out. )
[ he cannot recall the last time he enjoyed such beautiful and innocent simplicity the likes of playing in the snow. he supposes in the mischievous idles of his youth, he had made a few snowballs; waged a few wars.
he thinks she should, listening to the wistfulness of her reminiscences. that she should have those experiences, that she deserves that respite, that she should hold onto what more there is of her childhood as long as she possibly can.
he supposes she hasn't had much opportunity to do so, or to try her hand again at such simple fun. ] Me? [ he looks down at his attire and pinches the lapel of his coat, brows lifting. the hint if his smirk betrays his carefully constructed surprise. ] Oh. [ what? he's wearing garments for the snow? how'd they get there?? ] I was looking for a snowman-building partner. You can't make a decent one alone, you know.
[ it's not a lie if he decided the moment he heard the somewhat sad tone to her voice. ]
( clementine narrows her gaze at him as if she knows better, because she does. he is very fancy, and while she's sure he'd go out to make snowmen with his daughter, she knows he wasn't looking to go make snowmen all on his own.
a tiny laugh escapes her at his reaction as if he didn't know he was wearing clothing for the cold. it's quiet but genuine.
does he want to build snowmen because she does? it sort of makes it seem like maybe she can build one too cause even if she screws it up, she's not screwing it up alone. she's not just a kid who fails at being a kid, and she knows he understands. what it's like. )
Really?
Guess it's a good thing I didn't go out there yet. ( it's said with a certain amount of understanding, gratefulness there that he'd even try just cause she wants something she's afraid she's lost. she takes in a deep breath, turns away from the window, because she's going to do it. she's going to go out there.)
[ he didn't expect her to believe him, but he did make her laugh. the light chime of it warms him like nothing else ever could. that might've been his intent all along.
he wants her to want this, to not be afraid or ashamed of doing so. he wants to build this snowman for her and with her, if only so she lets go as she dearly deserves and clearly longs for, for one afternoon. in this, there is nothing expected of her and no memories to assault her needlessly. she need not do anything but be a child and have fun. (he wants this for himself. he wants to remember the instinct of being a father. he longs for it just the same.)
he recognizes what she means. he sees the decision in her eyes.
truth be told, he has no earthly idea how good he is at building snowmen. he assumes it will be simple enough; why wouldn't he succeed? klaus hushes his voice and leans down. ] Well, I'll tell you a little secret. [ he pauses. for dramatic effect, you understand. ] I am excellent at building snowmen. [ isn't she impressed? his expression says that's impressive. then he winces just slightly at the embarrassment he's about to admit: ] But I'm terrible about giving them faces.
[ he inclines his head to the side, an impish gleam in his eyes. wait for it... ] I eat all the carrots.
[ clementine laughs again despite herself, and the sound- and the ease with which it comes surprises her. she raises an eyebrow at him and juts a finger out in his direction until it presses against his arm. ]
If you eat our carrots, you're going to be in trouble.
[ a smile tugs across her face as she pulls the gloves out of her pockets and on to her hands as if decisively. this is happening now. she's going to make a snowman, and even if they're both actually terrible at it, it doesn't seem like it matters so much.
she moves to the closet, opening it so they can pull out what they need from inside. she's done so much. making a snowman shouldn't be- it shouldn't stop her in her tracks even if it did. maybe because she doesn't want to be someone incapable of it, incapable of fun or lightheartedness or being a kid.
like some part of her really did get that fucked up. ]
So... that means we need carrots and other stuff like hats, right?
[ his smile dimples slowly at her warning; he makes no promises but instead follows her to the closet.
it is remarkably easy, once he's slipped into these shoes, once he's let himself want to look after and help and befriend this little girl — however it conjures up that a painful longing for his own. because of same — he wants to be here. when she smiles like she is now, it hurts less and more all at once.
he looks into the expanse of the closet with her and then down to her. ] I think we should take whatever you like. [ he'll encourage it, in point of fact. with a bit of wonder injected into his voice, he says. ] A snowman can be whatever you imagine.
However, [ he reaches around into the closet over her head and roots around ] I will insist on... [ out comes a black top hat. yes, an authentic victorian top hat, the likes of which he hasn't worn for nearly a century. ] Ah yes, this hat. [ on his head it goes. for safe keeping. ]
( clementine stares up at him surprise when he just pops the hat on top of his head and then she laughs. she actually laughs before finally smirking up at him. she can't say she actually expected him to put it on, and she even figures he did it because he wanted to make her laugh. and well, maybe she laughed because she wanted that too. an adult willing to be silly to make her smile, even if she's too old for her age. even if she's harsh edges with blood on her hands, there's still worth in smiling, playing.
there's still some part of her capable of it despite her worry at the window before he showed up. )
It's very fancy like you are. ( she folds her arms across her chest, thoughtfully and then reaches in for a bag.
she pulls out marbles for the mouth, big buttons for the eyes, a rainbow scarf, and finally, she pulls out a carrot, which points his way. no eating this. )
[ with a smirk befitting klaus mikaelson's mischievousness, he bends over and reaches in the closet after she's done, only to pull out a black lace cravat of equal absurdity and then, to make the look complete, a wooden pipe and a costume tiara, to stuff in their bag.
he could just be, maybe might be, kind of sort of, capitalizing on her laughter and her continued teasing of just how worldly and ridiculous he is. ] Ready, [ he agrees, and takes the bag from her to carry. ]
( clementine snorts laughter at the sight of the fancy, lacy thing that klaus adds to the bag. this snowman is going to look hilariously fancy. she ducks her head and then starts toward the door, holding it open for him so they can build a ridiculous snowman. )
This will either be the best or worst snowman ever made. ( possibly both. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action.
klaus has spent the majority of this event on edge, waiting for the catch despite the evidence there is no catch. (no catch besides the continuing violation of their minds and autonomy, that is.) it's halfway through the afternoon (and a thorough exploration of the ski lodge itself) that he grudgingly decides to weather the actual weather, if only to have a better idea of this event up-close.
in part because a portion of him does hope this will be uneventful. rebekah has been downtrodden since her doctor left, despite her brave face to the contrary. freya has been at her wit's end to limits that have even begun to concern him, at rebekah's urgings.
despite the initial wariness in her eyes this morning, caroline wants so fervently to make this a respite. he cannot help but want it for those he loves, if not out of sheer common sense. (just because he craves a fight, it does not make it prudent to seek it.)
so finds klaus, wrapped up not quite as thoroughly as a normally warm-blooded person should be (sans hat, but not without a wool coat, scarf, and gloves) on his way outside.
that is until he catches sight of a familiar silhouette looking out a window at the fluff of falling snow.he pauses, watches her posture a moment, and walks over. ] Considering it?
action.
and she remembers. it used to be fun, and it should probably be easier for her than it is. to have fun.
she smirks a little when he speaks. it's pretty easy to recognize klaus' voice. no one else talks fancy like he does. she looks up at him after a moment. )
Maybe. The last time I built a snowman I was eight. ( that was a long time ago for her, okay? practically several lifetimes by the feel of it. ) I wasn't very good at it. It'd always fall apart.
What about you? ( it looks like he's dressed to head out. )
no subject
he thinks she should, listening to the wistfulness of her reminiscences. that she should have those experiences, that she deserves that respite, that she should hold onto what more there is of her childhood as long as she possibly can.
he supposes she hasn't had much opportunity to do so, or to try her hand again at such simple fun. ]
Me? [ he looks down at his attire and pinches the lapel of his coat, brows lifting. the hint if his smirk betrays his carefully constructed surprise. ] Oh. [ what? he's wearing garments for the snow? how'd they get there?? ] I was looking for a snowman-building partner. You can't make a decent one alone, you know.
[ it's not a lie if he decided the moment he heard the somewhat sad tone to her voice. ]
no subject
a tiny laugh escapes her at his reaction as if he didn't know he was wearing clothing for the cold. it's quiet but genuine.
does he want to build snowmen because she does? it sort of makes it seem like maybe she can build one too cause even if she screws it up, she's not screwing it up alone. she's not just a kid who fails at being a kid, and she knows he understands. what it's like. )
Really?
Guess it's a good thing I didn't go out there yet. ( it's said with a certain amount of understanding, gratefulness there that he'd even try just cause she wants something she's afraid she's lost. she takes in a deep breath, turns away from the window, because she's going to do it. she's going to go out there.)
How good are you at building snowmen anyway?
oh my god he's a true dad
he wants her to want this, to not be afraid or ashamed of doing so. he wants to build this snowman for her and with her, if only so she lets go as she dearly deserves and clearly longs for, for one afternoon. in this, there is nothing expected of her and no memories to assault her needlessly. she need not do anything but be a child and have fun. (he wants this for himself. he wants to remember the instinct of being a father. he longs for it just the same.)
he recognizes what she means. he sees the decision in her eyes.
truth be told, he has no earthly idea how good he is at building snowmen. he assumes it will be simple enough; why wouldn't he succeed? klaus hushes his voice and leans down. ] Well, I'll tell you a little secret. [ he pauses. for dramatic effect, you understand. ] I am excellent at building snowmen. [ isn't she impressed? his expression says that's impressive. then he winces just slightly at the embarrassment he's about to admit: ] But I'm terrible about giving them faces.
[ he inclines his head to the side, an impish gleam in his eyes. wait for it... ] I eat all the carrots.
oh. my. god. this thread already
If you eat our carrots, you're going to be in trouble.
[ a smile tugs across her face as she pulls the gloves out of her pockets and on to her hands as if decisively. this is happening now. she's going to make a snowman, and even if they're both actually terrible at it, it doesn't seem like it matters so much.
she moves to the closet, opening it so they can pull out what they need from inside. she's done so much. making a snowman shouldn't be- it shouldn't stop her in her tracks even if it did. maybe because she doesn't want to be someone incapable of it, incapable of fun or lightheartedness or being a kid.
like some part of her really did get that fucked up. ]
So... that means we need carrots and other stuff like hats, right?
oh no
it is remarkably easy, once he's slipped into these shoes, once he's let himself want to look after and help and befriend this little girl — however it conjures up that a painful longing for his own. because of same — he wants to be here. when she smiles like she is now, it hurts less and more all at once.
he looks into the expanse of the closet with her and then down to her. ] I think we should take whatever you like. [ he'll encourage it, in point of fact. with a bit of wonder injected into his voice, he says. ] A snowman can be whatever you imagine.
However, [ he reaches around into the closet over her head and roots around ] I will insist on... [ out comes a black top hat. yes, an authentic victorian top hat, the likes of which he hasn't worn for nearly a century. ] Ah yes, this hat. [ on his head it goes. for safe keeping. ]
no subject
there's still some part of her capable of it despite her worry at the window before he showed up. )
It's very fancy like you are. ( she folds her arms across her chest, thoughtfully and then reaches in for a bag.
she pulls out marbles for the mouth, big buttons for the eyes, a rainbow scarf, and finally, she pulls out a carrot, which points his way. no eating this. )
Ready.
no subject
he could just be, maybe might be, kind of sort of, capitalizing on her laughter and her continued teasing of just how worldly and ridiculous he is. ] Ready, [ he agrees, and takes the bag from her to carry. ]
no subject
This will either be the best or worst snowman ever made. ( possibly both. )