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pineslog2017-04-08 08:48 pm
unforgivably) wrote in pineslog2017-04-08 08:48 pm
who i've always been
Who: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Emma Swan and YOU.
Where: Various places detailed below, all in the city of Wayward Pines.
When: This month.
What: Damon decides to play by the rules, and discovers he's not the only version of himself that's broken them.
Warnings: None yet, but this is Damon Salvatore.
[ His third month here, Damon decides a different approach to the town is in order. For once, he's playing every part he's given. When a memory emerges, he leans into the skid. He could fight it. He could rabble rouse and raise pitchforks and anger whomever is behind the cameras, but he decides once and for all to play along. Before this month he'd been doing it out of habit, as something to do, but he decides then and there that he needs to. He gets the idea from Randel (or, with Randel, really) to improve if need be. It starts with smoothing over a soured friendship. And that becomes his second goal. Allies are the name of the game. And to get allies, Damon needs to be accessible. No more double meanings, no more burst bubbles inside parked cars. The more people he meets, the more memories uncovered and maybe that's the key. ]
i wanna talk about what you are that i ain't .. open
[ French's General Store becomes a hub of sorts for him. He volunteers to get the groceries. He's nothing if not a modern vampire and sending Katherine off to get groceries is a waste of her talents. When not stocking up on pancake batter, more booze and whatever he feels they might want for the next few days, he finds himself contemplating the rack of old VHS tapes. It's the classics Stefan actually likes, and ones they've all heard of, so every time he drops in, he picks up a few more. Drinking gets him so far, and with sex with Katherine off the table for him, he needs better entertainment. By mid-month they have a well-stocked VHS library.
At the butcher's, he makes small talk with French and always leaves a twenty in the tip jar. Sometimes, he makes a dirty joke about a breast, or a shank. And some days you might be surprised to find he pays for your order as well.
At the Garage, he takes to more hands on work when not working the books over. Expecting Stefan? You get Damon, hands greased up and white t-shirt spattered, but the job's always well done. His brother's expanded his acumen and that leaves Damon and Bucky doing the job in the afternoons. If you drop by during slower hours, you might find Damon singing Taylor Swift's greatest hits to himself. If not Taylor Swift, he has an impressive encyclopedic knowledge from songs released in 1993 and 1994, and a few of the older country songs.
With Stefan at the school, Damon drops by to bring his brother his lunch. In his brown bag sits a sandwich, an apple, and a thermos complete with his brother's favorite type. Damon raps on his brother's doorway to make his delivery. He bothers Stefan as long as his brother will let him. His third goal for the month, get back into his brother's good graces. After seeing Stefan, Damon wanders the halls. If anywhere is going to jog his memory, it's his high school. He can be found in the lobby, in the auditorium, and in the gymnasium, sometimes thinking, sometimes dribbling a basketball.
One afternoon he stops by one of the glass cases, palm settled against it, transfixed. He didn't go here. He knows he didn't go here and yet, there he is.
In the library, he finds an old yearbook, spending a while at one of the tables, flipping through it.
He stops at Between the Pines. Another way to his brother's heart. Books. The problem is, he spent the better part of a century either avoiding his brother, or making his life a living hell. He doesn't know which of these Stefan has read. He finds himself in the pulpier sections, knowing full well Stefan sticks with the highbrow. Maybe this is what he needs to turn that dour frown upside down.
At home he searches for his personal copy of the yearbook. Not pulling all the way into their garage, Damon leaves the door open while digging through old junk and finding not only his, but all of their yearbooks packed away in a collapsing cardboard box. The stolen yearbook sits next to the other three with Damon sitting not far from them, drinking from the bottle. They were here. They signed each other's yearbooks. Damon was on the football team and the basketball team. As far as information goes, it's a little much for him.
What he manages to do is pick up a few week day shifts at the bar. Weekend shifts come with experience. Seniority. Damon knows what he looks like. He knows he'll earn the weekend shift sooner or later. When not filling beers on tap and making exceptional drinks, including some that might count as before according to a sign or two, Damon uses his vampire hearing to listen to everyone. Sometimes, he strikes up his own conversation and doesn't discourage people starting conversation with him. With week night shifts come bussing as well, and when waitresses call out, running. But, he's capable and again, it passes time.
If you're lucky, your first drink is on the house. ]
let's talk about what you did to get here .. closed to stefan
When's the last time we did inventory?
[ Damon doesn't know. There are still whole patches of information, years, nights he doesn't remember, but he knows as a business owner that they should. Damon knows they need to take stock, get a handle on the business side of their business, so he and Stefan take a Sunday, shut down the garage and go through everything. Damon finds an old ledger in one of the cabinets. Modern technology eludes them. If only a ledger were a scanner. The menial inventory taking, he tasks Stefan with, not paying mind to the handwritten data.
Damon, instead, is going through their filing cabinets. ] We have paperwork going back to 1991. ]
let's talk about blood and sweat and tears .. closed to emma
[ It's not surprising Damon has friends. Because he has. Alaric. Enzo. Bonnie. Andie, in a way. Even Rose. Damon's swimming in friends he suddenly remembers. (Friends, and other people, but that stays with him and his brother. Whom he trusts inherently.) Damon drinks on the porch sometimes. Katherine's presence is all consuming and when she gets bored, he finds he doesn't like to entertain her. Or, doesn't want to. Sure there are nights with board games and drinks and they've read together, but some nights he wants to drink alone outside of the bar.
Finger on the top of his closer bottle of scotch, Damon finds himself fixated on a house across the street, a house until now that hasn't meant anything to him.
And despite that, he finds he needs a different, less compelled form of therapy.
There are the friends you drink with, bust their chops, camaraderie friends that don't judge you. And there are the friends that do, that take your shit, but tell you like it is. Bonnie was both. Here, he realizes he has a little of Bonnie in two people. It's too late to call or bother Sam. He's with kid. His sister's, but, still, kid. But, he knows Emma's up. Maybe, it's because her light is on. It's not because her light's on. It's another case of needing a face to a name attached to - something.
Getting up, he keeps the bottle with him, heading down their steps and across the street. He even looks both ways.
Arriving at Emma's door, he taps the bottle of scotch against it. He needs an ear not attached to Katherine or his brother. ]
Where: Various places detailed below, all in the city of Wayward Pines.
When: This month.
What: Damon decides to play by the rules, and discovers he's not the only version of himself that's broken them.
Warnings: None yet, but this is Damon Salvatore.
[ His third month here, Damon decides a different approach to the town is in order. For once, he's playing every part he's given. When a memory emerges, he leans into the skid. He could fight it. He could rabble rouse and raise pitchforks and anger whomever is behind the cameras, but he decides once and for all to play along. Before this month he'd been doing it out of habit, as something to do, but he decides then and there that he needs to. He gets the idea from Randel (or, with Randel, really) to improve if need be. It starts with smoothing over a soured friendship. And that becomes his second goal. Allies are the name of the game. And to get allies, Damon needs to be accessible. No more double meanings, no more burst bubbles inside parked cars. The more people he meets, the more memories uncovered and maybe that's the key. ]
i wanna talk about what you are that i ain't .. open
[ French's General Store becomes a hub of sorts for him. He volunteers to get the groceries. He's nothing if not a modern vampire and sending Katherine off to get groceries is a waste of her talents. When not stocking up on pancake batter, more booze and whatever he feels they might want for the next few days, he finds himself contemplating the rack of old VHS tapes. It's the classics Stefan actually likes, and ones they've all heard of, so every time he drops in, he picks up a few more. Drinking gets him so far, and with sex with Katherine off the table for him, he needs better entertainment. By mid-month they have a well-stocked VHS library.
At the butcher's, he makes small talk with French and always leaves a twenty in the tip jar. Sometimes, he makes a dirty joke about a breast, or a shank. And some days you might be surprised to find he pays for your order as well.
At the Garage, he takes to more hands on work when not working the books over. Expecting Stefan? You get Damon, hands greased up and white t-shirt spattered, but the job's always well done. His brother's expanded his acumen and that leaves Damon and Bucky doing the job in the afternoons. If you drop by during slower hours, you might find Damon singing Taylor Swift's greatest hits to himself. If not Taylor Swift, he has an impressive encyclopedic knowledge from songs released in 1993 and 1994, and a few of the older country songs.
With Stefan at the school, Damon drops by to bring his brother his lunch. In his brown bag sits a sandwich, an apple, and a thermos complete with his brother's favorite type. Damon raps on his brother's doorway to make his delivery. He bothers Stefan as long as his brother will let him. His third goal for the month, get back into his brother's good graces. After seeing Stefan, Damon wanders the halls. If anywhere is going to jog his memory, it's his high school. He can be found in the lobby, in the auditorium, and in the gymnasium, sometimes thinking, sometimes dribbling a basketball.
One afternoon he stops by one of the glass cases, palm settled against it, transfixed. He didn't go here. He knows he didn't go here and yet, there he is.
In the library, he finds an old yearbook, spending a while at one of the tables, flipping through it.
He stops at Between the Pines. Another way to his brother's heart. Books. The problem is, he spent the better part of a century either avoiding his brother, or making his life a living hell. He doesn't know which of these Stefan has read. He finds himself in the pulpier sections, knowing full well Stefan sticks with the highbrow. Maybe this is what he needs to turn that dour frown upside down.
At home he searches for his personal copy of the yearbook. Not pulling all the way into their garage, Damon leaves the door open while digging through old junk and finding not only his, but all of their yearbooks packed away in a collapsing cardboard box. The stolen yearbook sits next to the other three with Damon sitting not far from them, drinking from the bottle. They were here. They signed each other's yearbooks. Damon was on the football team and the basketball team. As far as information goes, it's a little much for him.
What he manages to do is pick up a few week day shifts at the bar. Weekend shifts come with experience. Seniority. Damon knows what he looks like. He knows he'll earn the weekend shift sooner or later. When not filling beers on tap and making exceptional drinks, including some that might count as before according to a sign or two, Damon uses his vampire hearing to listen to everyone. Sometimes, he strikes up his own conversation and doesn't discourage people starting conversation with him. With week night shifts come bussing as well, and when waitresses call out, running. But, he's capable and again, it passes time.
If you're lucky, your first drink is on the house. ]
let's talk about what you did to get here .. closed to stefan
When's the last time we did inventory?
[ Damon doesn't know. There are still whole patches of information, years, nights he doesn't remember, but he knows as a business owner that they should. Damon knows they need to take stock, get a handle on the business side of their business, so he and Stefan take a Sunday, shut down the garage and go through everything. Damon finds an old ledger in one of the cabinets. Modern technology eludes them. If only a ledger were a scanner. The menial inventory taking, he tasks Stefan with, not paying mind to the handwritten data.
Damon, instead, is going through their filing cabinets. ] We have paperwork going back to 1991. ]
let's talk about blood and sweat and tears .. closed to emma
[ It's not surprising Damon has friends. Because he has. Alaric. Enzo. Bonnie. Andie, in a way. Even Rose. Damon's swimming in friends he suddenly remembers. (Friends, and other people, but that stays with him and his brother. Whom he trusts inherently.) Damon drinks on the porch sometimes. Katherine's presence is all consuming and when she gets bored, he finds he doesn't like to entertain her. Or, doesn't want to. Sure there are nights with board games and drinks and they've read together, but some nights he wants to drink alone outside of the bar.
Finger on the top of his closer bottle of scotch, Damon finds himself fixated on a house across the street, a house until now that hasn't meant anything to him.
And despite that, he finds he needs a different, less compelled form of therapy.
There are the friends you drink with, bust their chops, camaraderie friends that don't judge you. And there are the friends that do, that take your shit, but tell you like it is. Bonnie was both. Here, he realizes he has a little of Bonnie in two people. It's too late to call or bother Sam. He's with kid. His sister's, but, still, kid. But, he knows Emma's up. Maybe, it's because her light is on. It's not because her light's on. It's another case of needing a face to a name attached to - something.
Getting up, he keeps the bottle with him, heading down their steps and across the street. He even looks both ways.
Arriving at Emma's door, he taps the bottle of scotch against it. He needs an ear not attached to Katherine or his brother. ]
no subject
He abides by almost every rule, breaking the main ones often (mostly talk about where you come from), but the one rule he abides by without question is always answering his phone.
He hadn't saved her number, anyone's really besides Randel, so it comes up as just that. But, he picks up.
"Damon Salvatore," he answers, the professional townie at the ready. He listens, a gulp rising up, a lurch in his stomach following. That coupled with a twinge of excitement gave him conflicting emotions. He tells her they should meet on the football field. It's isolated, there are stands, and he's sure the kids aren't there right then. It's also public enough, but outside. Cameras can only see them from a distance, but hearing them but be another story.
He promises his brother he'll behave. He doesn't know if he will. But the less he and Marie get together, the better off they'll be. He fights the meaning of playing along in this town. On some days, it means playing Katherine's husband. On others, does it mean playing the part of the philandering husband? He's not sure.
He keeps track of time here more than he ever has. He equates the two week mark with a retrieval of at least a few memories. This call must be that.
It's why she can find him in the middle of the field, a stray football in his hand. Nervous only to the point of not knowing what to expect.
no subject
The brief hope of even a semblance of a normal life was enough to keep her foot on the gas.
Before she reached the field, she shrugged out of her light jacket and tucked her gloves in the pockets of her jeans, leaving arms bared from the her green t-shirt sleeve down. It bothered her to have the tattoo on her inner left arm uncovered, the precise M4867 mocking her with more memories that she didn't want to believe, but she needed to do this. So she took a deep breath and walked onto the field, dropping her jacket on the front row of the bleachers before making her way out to him.
"Hi there, sugar," she greeted him when she was near enough, offering him a small, clearly nervous smile as she stopped within arm's reach of him. "Thanks for meeting me."
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"You said we needed to talk," Football in front of him, he grips it, holding it out. Bringing it back in, he looks down at the laces and back up.
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"I did," she replied, as if reminding herself of that fact. "We do. But first, could you do something for me?" Looking even more nervous with each passing second, she pushed past her fear of the impending revelation and held out her hand between them. "Will you take my hand, Damon? Please?"
no subject
"I understand."
He's not broken up about it. A part of him would be, but that part is dormant again.
no subject
His words knocked her loose from that stunned focus, and she tightened her grip on his hand just a little, trying to use her power against him, which resulted in... absolutely no change at all.
"Well, I sure don't," she informed him with a sharp edge to her tone, looking up at him with an almost defiant expression. "How the hell can I touch you like this? What are you that you're not in a coma right now?" She doesn't even register that he probably won't have any idea of what she's talking about.
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"I know we're not exactly underneath all the cameras, but I met you here for a reason, so try and keep the incredulous exclamations to a minimum." It's condescending as hell, but that does tend to be his default. He's not sure Marie has ever seen this side to him. "Now. Let's back up. I would be in a coma because why?"
See Damon. See Damon deflect. What are you, Marie?
no subject
None of this was making sense but she was going to give as good as she got until it did.
Setting her hands on her hips in a show of southern obstinateness, she informed him, "I'm a mutant whose touch sucks the life out of people. Except for Damon Salvatore, who's still standing when he should be out cold!"
no subject
"But, you did answer your own question. You suck life. I'm not out cold. Or, in a coma, we're going to have to -- monitor that problem. But, here I stand. There I stood. Here. Alive?" Was he? Could he be? She could follow the bread crumbs he put down. Especially, if she was going to use that tone with him. Sure, he'd started it, but she could've given a warning. Something.
Oh, how he wished this was a break-up.
no subject
Instead of stoking the fire of her simmering anger, his 'breadcrumbs' were just wearing her down, that spark of energy she'd gotten from him fading into nothing as she almost visibly deflated.
"You're trying to tell me you're not alive?" she theorized, wishing it sounded crazy when in fact it didn't. "You're something that looks human but isn't alive? Well, that only leaves a dozen or so possibilities." And maybe she sounded a little bitter at that, because she was so tired of not being normal.
Letting her arms fall to her side, she shook her head, half turning away from him to look over the empty bleachers. Her expression was lost and her tone empty as she continued, "I don't want to play games, Damon. I've spent the last two weeks thinking I'm crazy because I've got a couple hundred people in my head and keep having nightmares about being tortured, so if we could just talk, I'd really appreciate it."
no subject
He breathed in, then out.
"I'm a vampire. I died over a hundred years ago. My father shot my brother and I because we tried to save a woman we loved, who was also a vampire and who'd played the both of us. We were born in Mystic Falls, Virginia. We're ninety percent sure none of this is real, or this is what a witch back home might call a prison world. It's a parallel reality created to house whatever. The last one I was stuck in took place in the year 1994. My friend, Bonnie and I were there alone until we discovered a third person named Kai. I'm overwhelmingly unstoppably in love with a girl named Elena Gilbert who, until I got here, resided inside a coffin. Comatose, courtesy of Kai. A present he left Bonnie and me as revenge. I don't live here. I didn't grow up here. You live with a hundred people, I like with three." He held his hand up, illustrating each with a finger. "Human Damon. Vampire Damon. Damon Salvatore, upstanding back room bookie married to that girl my brother and I died for." He didn't mean to get upset over the last part, but he'd spent the last few weeks exasperated. "We know we're not crazy. I think, of everyone here, one guy is actually crazy. Everyone else spends two weeks being told they live here before their real lives bombard their senses. And then we're left to pick up the pieces and not talk about any of it."
It was a long diatribe, as evidenced by his heavy breathing after. In a way, it felt good to let it out. It was different with Jaiying. It didn't count. Not in their sessions. Marie was a mutant. Damon was a vampire. And unlike Malia, Marie was an adult. Maybe that was why he gravitated toward her honestly more than Malia.
"Not that it's a badge of honor, but I've been tortured to. I've also done the torturing, so on behalf of torturers everywhere." He sort of meant it, tacking on a, "Sorry."
no subject
A prison world, a parallel reality. It... made sense, in a way. Perhaps she'd ended up here when the timeline had reset? If they'd succeeded. She didn't even know if they had, and Logan didn't remember anything to be able to tell her anything. And-- he had someone he loved. The way he described her, it didn't seem like she was dead, just gone. That sort of thing might be possible with vampires, right?
Vampires. Huh. But... everyone here was like this?
Blinking at the apology, she was quiet for a moment before shrugging one shoulder and crossing her arms over her stomach. "It was for science," she commented, trying to stay distant from it and only partially succeeding. "That's how they justified it. Science, and making the world better by getting rid of mutants."
She squeezed her eyes shut and hunched in on herself, taking a few steps away from him because he wasn't anything to her. Not really. She couldn't go looking to him for comfort and... she didn't really deserve it, anyway. "I haven't been able to touch anyone for seventeen years. Mutations manifest during puberty -- mine happened during my first kiss, and the boy was in a coma for weeks. I left my home in Mississippi and went to a school for mutants. I ended up teaching there, being part of a team of mutants trying to make humans understand us so they wouldn't hate and fear us. But we failed and there was a war. The humans built giant robots called Sentinels to hunt us down, put us in camps so we could be studied and disposed of. I was there for three years before this." Three years and no one had come for her.
Marie took a deep breath and sank down to the ground, crossing her legs and doing her best to let go of it all. To not feel, because the only thing left in her was pain and anguish. Logan didn't remember her, her friends had left her to die, and the man who supposedly cared for her didn't even know her. Tipping her head back to look up, she quietly acknowledged, "If this is a prison, at least in this one I can see the sky."
no subject
He watched her, not moving closer, but listening, taking every word in.
Damon used to say he'd turned his switch off, his humanity switch, but he'd always lied. There were always shades of gray with his humanity shift. What did people say, there was a thin line between love and hate? Why make his brother's life miserable if he didn't in the least care about him.
Concentration camps, was all he could think, corners of his eyes wetting, threatening a tear or two. He wished nothing like that. On anyone. He lived through it. In the States. Desensitized to it as the time, he'd spent his time bedding women. It wasn't until his return to Mystic Falls in the nineties, with Sara Salvatore -- unknown to him at the time that she survived, that he first felt again. Maybe if he had gone to New Orleans with Stefan and Lexi things could have gone well. He would've avoided the Augustine Society altogether. Being tortured for five years was nothing compared to three years in a concentration camp. He knew this.
He watched as she sunk down, wanting to comfort her, not knowing if he could, or if she wanted. Not knowing what to do, he lowered himself to her level, setting his football aside. He watched her try to hold it together, wished he could be there in the way he was told he had been. But, the spell had been broken. And here they were, two strangers, marred by society, hunted down at different points in time. "Even when my brother and I weren't the threat to our town, they still hunted down vampires. I did everything I could to not be found out." He'd killed his brother's best friend, half to end the trail, and half as sick revenge. "I was captured and tortured for five years. They cut out my eyes, cut off limbs, tested vampire resilience. They regenerate." He thought he should clarify. "I'm not comparing our time in captivity, or trying to one-up your experience." He brought his lips together, eyes finding her again. "We may not be what we thought we were to one another, but I can still be there for you. I've been told I provide stellar hugs. Award-winning."
no subject
Shifting her legs under her, Marie leaned closer to Damon, carefully reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek if he would let her. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she told him softly, trying to hold back the tears that were more for him than herself. "I know what that's like and no one deserves that." Swallowing thickly, she hesitantly added with a small, shaky smile, "I think we both a hug though." He deserved more, in her opinion, but a hug was all she had to give.
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"Your secret is safe with me."
no subject
She breathed in the scent of him, savoring the feeling of having her arms wrapped around his back, the first time she'd been able to hold another person like this in... a very long time. When he pulled away, it just about broke her heart, but it was for the best. There was no point in getting used to it when she couldn't have it forever. She didn't deserve it.
"Thank you," she replied softly, trying and failing to find another smile. "And yours is safe with me." People feared what they didn't understand. Someone as different as the both of them... No, no one in the town needed to know.
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He needed to at least tell her that.
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Nodding with a somber expression, she told him, "I understand. And I'll keep you all safe." Stefan. Katherine. It didn't matter who they were now or before, she'd keep their secret. "Why do you keep talking about cameras?"
Better to change the subject to something that didn't make her want to break down into a sobbing mess.
no subject
"Because they're everywhere. Look up some time. Even in your," he said, bringing a hand up to make quotation marks. "Home." He was surprised she'd never seen them, but sometimes people didn't see what they didn't look for. "It's how they keep track of whether or not we follow the town rules. "
no subject
Confusion clouded her expression while she concentrated on the mental image she had of her the house she'd been given, the one she was supposed to believe was her home, and when she really thought about it-- "I never noticed them before. I guess I... I got used to having cameras around in the lab, I didn't realize they wouldn't be there in a normal house." It had been years since she'd lived in one, after all.
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But that wasn't his fault. "It's okay, sugar," she assured him with a slight shake of her head, forcing a small smile that didn't have much staying power. "I'm glad that it happened, and grateful that I was able to experience what it was like. All of it. I wouldn't take it back even if I could. But I know it won't be happening again, and that's okay too." She didn't blame him for that.