clashildr one shots

S W O R D S

"Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara! Clara!"
Ashildr's voice echoed through the whole of the diner - when she came skittering through into the dining area, her cactus socks taking her feet out from underneath her as she bolted through the door from the console room, so did the echoing crash of her shoulder against the metal doorframe.
"Ow. Guess what I found!"
"If it's not a pair of trousers."
Ashildr glanced down at her bare legs. "Ah. Well, that's what I was looking for." Her smile never resigned control of her face, though. She brandished two oblong parcels, one in each hand.
"What are they?" Clara asked, standing up and taking one to examine it. She nearly dropped it, such was the unexpected heft.
"Ulfberts!"
Clara stared blankly. Ashildr searched her eyes for a moment, still beaming.
"Right, so, basically, they're swords!" She took the leather-wrapped stick still in her hand and placed it down on the counter of the diner, flipping back the brown leather to reveal the twinkling metal. Clara slipped the same leather down a little on the sword in her own hands to reveal the hilt. "I completely forgot we had them," Ashildr said, eyes shining in awe as she ran her hand along the blade. "Damaskis steel, through tang, sharper than a dragons tooth... The craftsmanship of one of these things, Clara..."
It was beautiful, Clara had to admit - the metal shone in the hard light of the diner, capped only by the leather wrapping on the hilt. Clara didn't know enough about swords to appreciate it further.
"See," Ashildr went on, picking up the sword and swinging it around expertly, "I never got to wield one of these, not properly. The balance... My lot fought with axes, mostly, see - we were too poor to afford something even remotely sword-y, so we just used our work tools. You remember. Ulfberts like these were passed down from father to son, worth the equivalent of thousands. Beautiful."
Never before had Clara seen such admiration for an object. She was aware of the weight of the sword in her hands, and the apparent value, so set it down on the counter.
Inside the wrap for the sword in Ashildr's hand was a note, written in a hand that was both unfamiliar and homely. It read,

Go be sword lesbians.
B+H.

"B and H?" Clara asked, letting her finger glance over the text.
"Bill and Heather," Ashildr murmmered. "A parting gift from when we travelled together so long ago. How kind."
Clara nodded her agreement. When she looked over at Ashildr again, she was met with gleaming, exited eyes and her wife's biggest, toothiest smile. Even a wee eyebrow waggle.
Ash was the first to break eye contact, turning on her heel and floundering down the hall again.
"Where are you off to, now?" Clara called after her.
"I'm gonna go make something eat shit!"
And, with that, still wearing only a t-shirt and socks, Ashildr ran off back through the diner, this time wielding a ferocious weapon.