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pineslog2017-04-07 09:51 pm
theycalledmeacurse) wrote in pineslog2017-04-07 09:51 pm
So fill up your lungs and just run... [open + closed]
Who: Marie (Rogue) + You!
Where: WP Academy, Main Street locations, her neighborhood, etc.
When: The month of April
What: Getting used to the town, meeting people, maybe a tiny bit of snooping
Warnings: Will update as needed
Note: I'll match your style, brackets or prose. Here's her Pines Info.
[Open + Closed]
Wandering @ Her Neighborhood
Friday, April 7 - Open, especially to neighbors
Was it weird to walk through your own neighborhood staring at other people's houses?
It was a thought that did cross Marie's mind more than once as she slowly strolled along the sidewalks, past house after house. Some were empty and silent, bearing no names on the mailboxes as her own did, while others had life teeming within them. Families getting ready for dinner, children playing in the backyard. The odd thing was, even those empty houses were filled with furniture, as if waiting for their families to come back and claim them. No matter how many flower beds she climbed through to get close enough to windows to peer inside, each one was the same. Furnished, decorated, lifeless.
Hopefully no one called the police on her for snooping.
Running & Donuts @ Around Town
Saturday, April 8 - Open
The sun was only just coming up as Marie left the house, moving as quietly as she could in the hopes of not waking up her roommates. The air was crisp and she shivered slightly in her green running pants and long-sleeved shirt. She stretched for a minutes on the front lawn before setting off on her run.
Well, it was more walking with a hint of running every now and then. Even a slow jog left her gasping for breath, like she hadn't done anything more than lay around for years rather than the few days she'd been trying to recover from the accident. Like most things in her life, it didn't make one bit of sense, but what was she going to do about it other than struggle through the grueling process of getting back into shape?
After a few turns around the surrounding neighborhoods, she'd head down Main Street and stop in at Hurts's Donuts to pick up breakfast for the house.
Shopping @ French's General Store
Sunday, April 9 - Open
Sunday was the day for grocery shopping. It was what she'd grown up with and it was what she followed now in the hopes of finding something like comfort in the old ritual that left her battling other Sunday shoppers for elbow space in the aisles. She was covered in a large grey knit sweater and jeans, gloves and a scarf, and her striped hair down for added measure. There were going to be absolutely no accidents, she'd promised herself, and she was determined on that point.
Still, it was awfully tempting to zap Mrs. Lanahan when she went for the last bottle of chocolate sauce.
Faculty Bonding @ School
Monday, April 10 - Closed to Fellow Teachers
The first day back had been... overwhelming, to put it mildly. She'd taught three classes that day, all different levels of French, and while she remembered the language perfectly, she'd struggled through the syllabi and lesson plans that she'd supposedly planned out at the start of the semester. Those she didn't remember at all, and she'd stumbled over more than one thing in each class. Add in her awkwardness with students who remembered her when she didn't quite remember them, remeeting her colleagues who she only vaguely recalled, and the general physical drain of being in front of people for hours and, well, she was pretty damn tired.
It was the early afternoon when her last class finished and she retreated to the faculty lounge, where there was a half-empty pot of questionable coffee that she eyed for a good thirty seconds before pouring herself a small mug. Desperate times called for terrible coffee. She flopped herself down in a chair at one of the tables before setting her mug aside and laying her head down on the table. She would lay there for a while, drink the foul coffee, and eventually haul out her lesson plans for the next few days to properly review.
Office Hours @ Java Joe's
Tuesday, April 11 - Open, especially to students
Office hours. The idea made her think of all the visits she'd made to crammed little offices back in college, chatting with her professors about theories, going over assignments, and eventually asking for recommendations when she'd applied for jobs. It had been intimidating at times, and that was why she'd decided to hold her own office hours in a place where her students might feel comfortable - a coffee shop.
Twice a week, she took over a table at the side of the room and settled in for two hours. During that time students could stop by to ask questions, go over assignments, or just talk. She remembered the first few times had been mostly sitting by herself and drinking her weight in caffeine, but after a couple weeks the students had started coming. Even the ones who weren't in her classes anymore would stop by sometimes to catch up on life.
So as awkward as she still felt in front of the classes of teenagers she only half-remembered, Marie had wanted to carry on this practice, and she'd heard from a handful of students already that they would be by that evening.
Fortunate Accidents @ School
Friday, April 14 - Closed to Bucky Barnes
Had Friday always taken this long to come around, or had this week just been exceedingly long? Each day had dragged more than the last as Marie had struggled to adjust to her new-old life, getting back into the groove of things that she still only half-remembered. By the end of her last class, she was so completely out of sorts that she managed to spill her lunchtime coffee all over her white sweater.
Shit.
For half a second, she debated her options. If she waited until she got home, the sweater would probably be a lost cause, but if she worked on it now-- Decision made, she hurried down the hall, dodging the few straggling students who hadn't yet made it to the cafeteria. The art room was closer and had some decent-sized sinks for cleanup, so she slipped inside and made a beeline for one that wasn't stained with paint, tugging off the sweater as she went and stuffing gloves into her pockets. The camisole she'd worn underneath did a good job of keeping her decent, but with her arms and shoulders bared, she was just tempting fate to send a student rushing into the room. Waiting for the universe to cause another 'accident'.
She didn't even think about the tattoo on her arm that was bared, or the still-healing scars that were partially visible on her back. Her focus was on rinsing out the material as quickly as she could without running into anyone.
You Choose @ Main Street
Any day, you make the call
Not seeing what you want? Choose your own adventure! Rogue will wander through Main Street at least twice a day, aimlessly or with purpose depending on the location.
Where: WP Academy, Main Street locations, her neighborhood, etc.
When: The month of April
What: Getting used to the town, meeting people, maybe a tiny bit of snooping
Warnings: Will update as needed
Note: I'll match your style, brackets or prose. Here's her Pines Info.
[Open + Closed]
Wandering @ Her Neighborhood
Friday, April 7 - Open, especially to neighbors
Was it weird to walk through your own neighborhood staring at other people's houses?
It was a thought that did cross Marie's mind more than once as she slowly strolled along the sidewalks, past house after house. Some were empty and silent, bearing no names on the mailboxes as her own did, while others had life teeming within them. Families getting ready for dinner, children playing in the backyard. The odd thing was, even those empty houses were filled with furniture, as if waiting for their families to come back and claim them. No matter how many flower beds she climbed through to get close enough to windows to peer inside, each one was the same. Furnished, decorated, lifeless.
Hopefully no one called the police on her for snooping.
Running & Donuts @ Around Town
Saturday, April 8 - Open
The sun was only just coming up as Marie left the house, moving as quietly as she could in the hopes of not waking up her roommates. The air was crisp and she shivered slightly in her green running pants and long-sleeved shirt. She stretched for a minutes on the front lawn before setting off on her run.
Well, it was more walking with a hint of running every now and then. Even a slow jog left her gasping for breath, like she hadn't done anything more than lay around for years rather than the few days she'd been trying to recover from the accident. Like most things in her life, it didn't make one bit of sense, but what was she going to do about it other than struggle through the grueling process of getting back into shape?
After a few turns around the surrounding neighborhoods, she'd head down Main Street and stop in at Hurts's Donuts to pick up breakfast for the house.
Shopping @ French's General Store
Sunday, April 9 - Open
Sunday was the day for grocery shopping. It was what she'd grown up with and it was what she followed now in the hopes of finding something like comfort in the old ritual that left her battling other Sunday shoppers for elbow space in the aisles. She was covered in a large grey knit sweater and jeans, gloves and a scarf, and her striped hair down for added measure. There were going to be absolutely no accidents, she'd promised herself, and she was determined on that point.
Still, it was awfully tempting to zap Mrs. Lanahan when she went for the last bottle of chocolate sauce.
Faculty Bonding @ School
Monday, April 10 - Closed to Fellow Teachers
The first day back had been... overwhelming, to put it mildly. She'd taught three classes that day, all different levels of French, and while she remembered the language perfectly, she'd struggled through the syllabi and lesson plans that she'd supposedly planned out at the start of the semester. Those she didn't remember at all, and she'd stumbled over more than one thing in each class. Add in her awkwardness with students who remembered her when she didn't quite remember them, remeeting her colleagues who she only vaguely recalled, and the general physical drain of being in front of people for hours and, well, she was pretty damn tired.
It was the early afternoon when her last class finished and she retreated to the faculty lounge, where there was a half-empty pot of questionable coffee that she eyed for a good thirty seconds before pouring herself a small mug. Desperate times called for terrible coffee. She flopped herself down in a chair at one of the tables before setting her mug aside and laying her head down on the table. She would lay there for a while, drink the foul coffee, and eventually haul out her lesson plans for the next few days to properly review.
Office Hours @ Java Joe's
Tuesday, April 11 - Open, especially to students
Office hours. The idea made her think of all the visits she'd made to crammed little offices back in college, chatting with her professors about theories, going over assignments, and eventually asking for recommendations when she'd applied for jobs. It had been intimidating at times, and that was why she'd decided to hold her own office hours in a place where her students might feel comfortable - a coffee shop.
Twice a week, she took over a table at the side of the room and settled in for two hours. During that time students could stop by to ask questions, go over assignments, or just talk. She remembered the first few times had been mostly sitting by herself and drinking her weight in caffeine, but after a couple weeks the students had started coming. Even the ones who weren't in her classes anymore would stop by sometimes to catch up on life.
So as awkward as she still felt in front of the classes of teenagers she only half-remembered, Marie had wanted to carry on this practice, and she'd heard from a handful of students already that they would be by that evening.
Fortunate Accidents @ School
Friday, April 14 - Closed to Bucky Barnes
Had Friday always taken this long to come around, or had this week just been exceedingly long? Each day had dragged more than the last as Marie had struggled to adjust to her new-old life, getting back into the groove of things that she still only half-remembered. By the end of her last class, she was so completely out of sorts that she managed to spill her lunchtime coffee all over her white sweater.
Shit.
For half a second, she debated her options. If she waited until she got home, the sweater would probably be a lost cause, but if she worked on it now-- Decision made, she hurried down the hall, dodging the few straggling students who hadn't yet made it to the cafeteria. The art room was closer and had some decent-sized sinks for cleanup, so she slipped inside and made a beeline for one that wasn't stained with paint, tugging off the sweater as she went and stuffing gloves into her pockets. The camisole she'd worn underneath did a good job of keeping her decent, but with her arms and shoulders bared, she was just tempting fate to send a student rushing into the room. Waiting for the universe to cause another 'accident'.
She didn't even think about the tattoo on her arm that was bared, or the still-healing scars that were partially visible on her back. Her focus was on rinsing out the material as quickly as she could without running into anyone.
You Choose @ Main Street
Any day, you make the call
Not seeing what you want? Choose your own adventure! Rogue will wander through Main Street at least twice a day, aimlessly or with purpose depending on the location.
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Like Marie.
"I can be very missable." His smirk lessened, turning more genuine.
Fierce was a perfect word to describe their attraction. Not in high school, Damon hadn't done the right thing in high school, returning to his first love. But, after, when Marie had returned. The attraction was instantaneous. Friendship alone lasted a few weeks. Damon's fingers grazed the cup, moving back and forth, all the while keeping his gaze.
"I'm happy you're in one piece. The accidents never leave more than a scratch on us," he added, referring to the prior groups, something Marie may have not heard. And for Damon, he and Stefan hadn't had scratches or bruises had been what they were. Vampires. "But, how can we not worry that one of these times they'll prove fatal." Like clockwork, the first of the month, more accident victims woke up, having not been there the month prior. But, they'd always been there, hadn't they. "Stefan and I were in an accident three months ago." Katherine, two, but he didn't mention her.
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Lord, she loved his smile.
Did she love him? With every passing second, it was clear that there was something strong between them, like a magnetic pull that kept them coming back to each other. Had he been part of the reason she'd decided to come back to Wayward Pines a few years ago? The notion sat right with her, though perhaps he wasn't the only reason. He had certainly been a large part of what made her content to stay. But love... That was always a complicated matter.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to wrap her hand around his in a way she felt she'd done so many times before. It was a desire that was growing into a need, a desperation to make sure he was actually real and sitting there with her. If he was just some figment her broken mind had produced, she didn't know that she'd survive it.
"There are an awful lot of accidents for a small town like this," she mused quietly, her tone still conversational because she didn't have anything to be suspicious of. She didn't know nearly enough about her situation to really question anything going on in this place yet. Dropping her gaze to her cup, she bit her lower lip for a moment before asking, "Do you know-- Have I been in an accident before? Recently?"
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He hadn't had sex in two months. And however long he'd been out. Forgettable memories of Krystal with a K not withstanding, he hadn't gotten that itch until now.
Not really.
What a difference a daily run made. Or, a glimpse of that run.
Sliding over her paper and taking her pen, he wrote his number one after the other, before turning it back to her and setting the pen back down. He took another sip from his coffee and sat back, a glint in his eye apparent that he hadn't had in months even before waking up in Wayward Pines.
"I don't think you'll be in another accident any time soon. It's more of a one time rite of passage for us." Or, something like that he thought. Us meaning the groups of them that kept waking up.
"Do you ever take a break from your office hours?" She knew him well. He knew her. She knew what he meant, and why he was asking. Could she get away? Technically, they hadn't done this in a few weeks. In reality, they'd never done this. But, it felt like they'd had.
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It was something else that didn't fit into the jigsaw puzzle of her memories. She could have sworn that her touch hurt people, it was why she'd been so careful the past week, but she very clearly remembered being able to touch Damon, and there was no question that he was also under that impression now. Something might very seriously be wrong with her if she was making mistakes like that, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to care about it in that particular moment. All she could think of was what might come after they left the cafe.
"I don't think anyone else is coming tonight," she answered softly, her pulse quickening at the look in his eyes. It was almost time to pack up anyway, and if she found out someone came by after she left, she could apologize, give them an extension on the assignment. It would be fine.
Sliding gloved fingers over the numbers he'd written on the paper, she carefully gathered it with the other things she'd laid out on the table, taking special note of where it was so she could find it later. Something told her she would have reason to use it later. Her things were nestled inside the bag she'd brought before she turned her attention back to him with an expectant expression.
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Taking her bag from her, he made the executive decision to help carry her things. He was a gentleman after all.
"Your car parked out back?" he asked, that familiar hint of mischief bubbling up to the surface. No, the bathroom would be too tawdry. And, cameras. But, her car. He'd established with Kenzi that cameras weren't installed in cars. And, the sun was down. He'd hope most people had walked today. But, if not, he could also get created.
This was happening. There was no question.
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She pushed all of that aside, resolving to deal with the disparity another time. Right now? Her entire world was focusing on the man in front of her. The handsome gentleman who had just taken her bag and was offering all sorts of unspoken promises of what awaited them beyond that door.
His question tamed her smile and she gave a tiny shake of her head, hoping this wasn't going to ruin their plans. "I walked," she explained regretfully, nearly cursing herself for having insisted. Yes, she needed to get back into shape, but in hindsight it seemed ridiculous to walk everywhere.
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Her gaze was electric, awakening something in Damon he hadn't tapped into, hadn't truly tapped into since Elena was laid to sleep in that coffin.
They didn't make it to his car, now parked on the other side of town, or either one of their residences. They made it to behind Java Joe's obscured by a dumpster that had recently been emptied (and isn't that their luck?)
A perfect metaphor for what they are, but not what they weren't.
Clothes couldn't come off, not there, but that didn't mean they couldn't make it work. Zippers tugged down frantically, underwear next. One hand gripped shoulder and the other held her up, vampire strength making this delicate dance an easy one. Despite that strength, despite the rutting nature of what they were doing, keeping eye contact, and their breaths in sync made this more than just a rendezvous next to a dumpster. When he wasn't kissing her like she was the oxygen he'd been needing, his eyes found hers again, each thrust renewing a vow he hadn't remembered making. Maybe they tried to stop. Before the accident. But, why should they now?
He paused once in their love making, that twinge of guilt creeping up. Elena wasn't here. This wasn't Elena. But, he told himself that was okay. This wasn't Katherine. Live your life. Her voice echoed inside his mind. Twister or not, it kept him going, emotional arousal renewed. Memories of Marie and Elena swirled together inside his mind. Taking her in the classroom, the her being the both of them at separate times. Elena when he and her had been on the outs and he had convinced her their relationship was toxic, Marie after hours, after an alumni event or some such.
He was unaware of what she was, that this should be killing him. (And a part of it was, wasn't it.) But more than any other month, Damon before bled into Damon now. Betraying Katherine was a non-issue, though he knew he'd keep this a secret. Marie didn't need that hell raining down on her. Nor did she need this, or him. But, that was what he had here. He had her. He'd always had her. Why had he married the woman he married? Honor? Twisted passion? Frustration with the why finished him off, aggression from not knowing everything, to this not being Elena brought him to climax inside her with one last thrust upward.
His heavy breathing lessened as one hand went to the wall, bracing her so she could take her place back on the ground.
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Though she knew it wasn't the first time they'd done something like this, stealing away for a few minutes of giving in to their urges, it felt like the first time. Being so close to him was intoxicating, like drinking the finest wine and then being whisked around the dance floor. Her head was spinning after the first kisses and she clung to him as if he were the only thing left in her world. And once it was apparent that she could touch him, that her instincts were right and he was perfectly safe, she'd torn off her gloves with no regard to where they fell, desperate to feel as much of his skin against hers as they could manage in that moment. Touching him was addictive, each brush of their skin buzzing through her like soft electricity, and maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline, but she felt more awake and energized and alive with each passing second.
It doesn't make sense. How was it that she could touch him when she'd been so certain that she couldn't touch anyone? Had her mind been playing some sort of psychological trick on her ever since the accident? Had she been wrong this whole time? The endless parade of questions threatened to rise to the forefront of her thoughts during those moments of pause, only to be buried under emotion when they continued. Now wasn't the time for any of that.
The strength of her climax took her by surprise, the waves of sensation leaving her gasping as she held onto him. When was the last time she'd felt something this amazing? Months, her mind told her, but there was another whisper of years, possibly never. There was a slight wobble to her legs as she found her balance back on the ground, and she was grateful for the slightly dirty wall that helped hold her up.
"Thank you." The words were murmured before she even realized she was speaking, bare hands holding on to the smooth leather of his jacket. They seemed such a strange thing to say after what they'd just shared (and had shared before), but the emotion behind them was real. An overwhelming gratitude welled up inside of her for this wonderful man she'd somehow forgotten who cared about her in ways no one else had in so long. This man who wasn't afraid to touch her (but why should he be?) and had given her an amazingly precious gift (though she didn't understand why it felt that way). It was slightly mortifying when a second later there was in her eyes and the telltale tightening of her throat that meant she was about to cry.
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"Any -" he tries, eyes on her, knowing the familiar signs that someone is about to cry. "-time." The part of him that wouldn't want to make a woman cry, much less one he'd just had sex with behind a coffee shop, kept his hands to himself. Is this going too far? Is there such thing as taking advantage of memories he thought they both shared? Once a vampire who took advantage, the man who Damon was now couldn't be less proud in this moment.
He doesn't know how to react, or what to say. He's not asking if she's alright, because she's not. If anything he wants to take it back, even erase it, but he understands consent now, and this wouldn't exactly reveal what he is to people.
Besides the ass who took advantage of a half-proven affair.
It occurs to him, this could also be from that. They can't be together, technically. Not with the city believing he's married. And because he "is." Maybe this is how it goes, although the extent of what he can recall doesn't stretch this far.
"Should I --" Not have, he wants to say. Go? Apologize. "I'm -"
Sorry. He's sorry, Marie.
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The tears slipped out as she shut her eyes tight for a moment and shook her head. No, she had to pull herself together, figuratively and literally. Straightening her clothes and rezipping things, she took a shaky breath before trying to speak again. "I'm sorry," she told him, and it felt like she'd said those words a thousand times before. "I don't know why I'm crying, but it's not-- It's not because of you, I promise. You didn't do anything--"
But he had, hadn't he? He'd made her feel special. Wanted. He'd reminded her what it felt like to have someone care about her, even in a basic, primal way. And despite the fact that she knew this thing between had been going on for quite some time, her chest still ached with an emotional memory of abandonment. That's what it was, a pervasive feeling of being completely alone and unwanted, and he'd made it all the more painful with this brief glimpse of the exact opposite.
She ran bare fingers through her long striped hair and held it back from her face, shaking her head again while she struggled to find a way to explain that wouldn't make her sound like a complete lunatic.
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"It's okay. It' - happens. It's the release. Sometimes, it's physical and then it's -" Old Damon peeked out, more wary than anything at this point. "Emotional." But, he did that. Accidentally. "It actually means that," he started, decided that maybe discussion of her orgasm wouldn't be as prudent as it wouldn't be. He cleared his throat.
"Can I do anything?"
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Marie pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, closed her eyes again, and shook her head. Another deep breath, two. Then she wiped away her tears and told herself to get it together already.
"I'm alright," she murmured, glancing at him before looking away again awkwardly. "Just kinda mortified, is all."
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Appearances.
"Happens." He repeated himself, just to make it clear again. "You're okay?"
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"We should go," she announced softly, setting a hand on his chest for just a moment before stepping to the side, putting distance between them. It was the very last thing she wanted, she'd gladly wrap her arms around him and not let go for hours, but they didn't have that luxury. That wasn't what this was between them. Leaning down, she picked up one glove and glanced around to find the other she'd so carelessly dropped.
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Picking up her bag, she offered Damon a small smile while she tugged her gloves back into place. "Come see me again sometime, sugar?" There was hope in her voice - she wanted to continue this thing between them, if he did too.
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"Goodnight, Damon." One last smile, an attempt at imprinting his face more fully into her mind so she wouldn't forget him again, and then she turned and headed for Main Street. For a house that still didn't feel like home.