pineslog | I just got lost and slept right through the dawn

Entry tags:

I just got lost and slept right through the dawn

Who: Emma Swan + YOU
Where: the neighborhood, the school, the tea shop, pick your own adventure
When: April somethin'
What: settling in
Warnings: N/A? will update if needed. (probably won't be needed)
[Open]

1 - house / neighborhood.

[ there's one way for Emma to get a feel for this town, and that's by embracing her life in it. sure, she woke up with a few distinctly unbelievable memories about fairytales and magic, but the more she's settled into a routine, the more this place has filled in some of the blanks. the title of "savior" isn't an actual job, but memories, records, and people tell her that she's a physical education teacher who alternates between teaching self defense and safe sex.

pushing up against the unbelievable, she finds a more modest life here. family, friends, a mix of memories both good and bad, all with people who matter to her. she knows it's all supposed to ground her in reality here. hell, she feels insane for even thinking about the kid who'd been on her mind right after she'd woken up in the hospital, but that memory isn't as easily pushed aside as Snow White and Prince Charming.

she holds on to all of it, not matter how ridiculous, as she settles back into old routines. She might be found sitting out front, pretending to plant some flowers even though she's distracted by anyone who wanders by , or maybe she's jogging around, trying to blow off some steam or run away from her problems. unfortunately, it never seems to work.]

2 - school.

[ getting back to work should help her sort things out, so Emma's back at school the Monday after the accident. she's not quite the type to sacrifice what's comfortable for her to keep up with an expected dress code, which means her usual attire leans a little more towards jeans and leather than any sort of track suit.

by all appearances, she looks like her old self, even if she spends a little too much time moving from place to place, taking in the school and the people around her. she might be found in the faculty room or moving to or from one of her classes. if all else fails, there's always the gym - just don't sneak up on her when she's warming up.]

3 - Go Ask Alice.

[ if there's one thing suspicious about this shop, it's that the hot chocolate is seasonal. anyone who works there expects Emma to ask for it regardless of season, though she'll settle for a decent cup of coffee and a chocolate chip scone.

this place isn't really her kind of thing, yet she can't even remember how many times she's been in here. even the table she takes, one by the window, is the same one she always sits at. she's a creature of habit whether she likes it or not, and it could be worse. at least the scone is worth coming back for. maybe even the coffee.

in other words, take her money.]

4 - OR...

[wildcard option! want something that isn't here? leave it in the comments or find me at

swanning and I'll write it for us!]

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[ It's entirely possible that Jefferson made the hot chocolate seasonal solely to irritate Emma. Certainly, there's nothing stopping Jefferson from offering it year-round. And yet...

In any case, that's not exactly on his mind right now. Instead, he finds himself staring at Emma from behind the counter, his gaze lingering in a way that might be considered unnerving-- at least, if picked up on. It's just...

Emma's familiar in a way that nobody else is. Yes, of course, he knows her the same way he knows anybody in Wayward Pines, but there's more to it than that. She's also present in other memories, of another life-- lonely and miserable-- in the town he never talks about.

He remembers watching her. He remembers tricking her. He remembers... a gun and hats and the raw frustration of trying to get her to just believe-- Believe in what? He's not sure. But he can see it in his head, perfectly clear: Emma called him insane. And she called him the Mad Hatter. Oh, and she whacked him upside the head with a telescope.

Eventually, he leaves his post at the register (his employees can take care of that!) to join Emma at her table, totally unprompted by anything on her part. He just flops down in the chair across from her like he owns the place.

Which, incidentally, he does. Though, now that he's here, he has no idea what to say, so he just opens with: ]

You don't think I'm crazy, do you?

[ there are things Jefferson remembers that Emma doesn't, it's true.

and it's a shame, considering how desperately she'd like someone to hear her fairytales are real pitch. right now, she's keeping it all to herself, as if new information will just present itself if she waits around long enough. and from what she's seen, maybe it will. it's not every day that man (a familiar one, she knows Jefferson and his reputation around here) will plunk down beside you with questions that echo your own.

she's been wondering if the accident made her a little farther away from sane than she used to be. now here he is, asking the same.] Crazy?

[ she looks up, and for a moment, it seems like Emma actually considers the question. crazy? no, but he is different. and sometimes different translates to being an easy target for anyone who can't handle someone a little unusual.] I mean you're not great with boundaries, but... [ it's a joke, because he came over uninvited. it'd be the real thing if she could remember that he likes the smell of her hair.] What brought this on?

[ He stares at Emma for a beat, taking in that answer. It's not a yes or a no, exactly, more like a stall for time, and there's something expectant in his sullen gaze before he pulls it down to the little flower arrangement on the table. (There's one on every table.) Jefferson reaches out to pluck up a stem of baby's breath, twirling the flowers in his fingers.

He opens his mouth to answer with some honesty, but then, mindful of the cameras, changes tracks: ]

Oh, nothing in particular. It's something I get a lot. Some people like to say it more openly than others. [ And some people... hit him with telescopes... ]

You want me to have a talk with some people?

[ she can't help it, she doesn't like the idea of someone saying that. in context she'd defend herself (he kidnapped her mom, drugged her and tied her up, held her against her will, took out a gun...), but by itself, she can't connect the thought to a memory.

until she does, she's irritated by the idea that someone would so blatantly disrespect someone she sees most mornings - even if he still hasn't added hot cocoa into regular menu.]

You're different, and that's not a bad thing. It doesn't make you crazy.

[ Jefferson lifts his brows at the offer. Some people might be hard to talk to, since he can't imagine Emma having a chat with herself-- or, the her in his memories, which may not be all that reliable to begin with. Besides, however confusing the memories may be, he's pretty sure he's the one who started... whatever had gone down. ]

No. [ He shakes his head. ] I don't need anyone to have a talk. I was just wondering how I come across. [ He gestures at the scarf, the waistcoat, as if to acknowledge why others might consider him weird. And then, with a bit of a smile, he adds: ] But it's good to know you don't think I'm crazy.

[ are they sure this isn't about his refusal to let her enjoy hot cocoa year round? she might whack him with a telescope if he keeps this up.

but for right now, she just nods -] Not crazy, just not from around here. [ which, last she checked, isn't the big deal that everyone tries to turn it into. maybe she ought to be more suspicious, it is in her nature, but there's something familiar about him. she sees him every day, that's part of it, yeah...

somehow she's decided that it's deeper than that, even if she can't put her finger on it right now.] And honestly, I think that's probably a good thing.

[ Clary isn't expecting to see Emma at school. In fact, she'd been told to take a few days off to rest herself but she thought the idea was silly. She'd always been a fast healer. As fuzzy as her memory is, she doesn't recall ever taking a sick day except for the day she was sent home for having the chicken pox.

Seeing Emma in the hallway, Clary pauses and runs over with a quick wave of her hand and a soft smile. The memories flood into her, similar to how they had with Aunt Pepper. Emma is someone that Clary's always known, it's silly to think she'd forget the woman now.] Hey, I didn't think I'd see you for a bit. Are the self defense classes still going? I've been getting better with my left hook.

[Clary shifts her sketchpad so it's positioned safely under her left arm and mimics a rather horrible punch through the airy with her right. There is an easy smile on her lips along with an air of comfort. Clary clung to what she thought was normal while other memories shifted uncomfortably in her head.]

[ getting better with her left hook? at least it earns a smile from someone who desperately needs to remember what life was like before she took a bad blow to the head. her memories are always in conflict with each other, but the longer she's here, the more memories of this town slide in alongside the ones she's been struggling with over the past few days. it makes her feel a little more grounded in her life here, even if she still has her doubts.]

You'd better put your left hook away before you hurt someone. [ like Emma, or herself. still, the enthusiasm is a welcome change from what Emma gets from most of her students. she's a good kid, and Emma can say that with certainty, having known her for her entire life.] I'm keeping up with my regular schedule. Seems like the best way to jump back in is just to keep a familiar routine.

[ or she could listen to the doctor, but let's be honest: when does Emma Swan listen to people who tell her things she doesn't want to hear?]

How about you?

[Clary strives for levity, more so after the weeks she's been having. Strange visions flicker like candle light in her head, trying to remind her of something she's forgotten. It was a familiar feeling though. As if forgetting was a common occurrence through the course of her life. Sometimes she had nightmares, strange monsters coming after her, demanding a cup of some kind. It's those nights that Clary is happy that she lives alone because she's gone searching through her cupboards more than a few times before coming to her senses.]

You know I don't really care for fighting. [Self defense isn't exactly fighting, at least not to Clary.] Or at least hitting people. [She laughs softly as if remembering some joke.]

That's what I'm doing. I mean, after Aunt Pep got me released from the hospital. Looks like a lot of people got pretty banged up. It's unlucky. [Sometimes Clary believes in luck.]

I don't have any problem with hitting people, at least not when they deserve it. [ self defense isn't about violence for the hell of it, she just wants her students to be prepared to defend themselves should they ever have to. besides, it's a nice change of pace from her other classes, the ones where kids cackle over scientific terms for their reproductive organs. as if knowing all of this somehow isn't important to the rest of their lives.]

You could call it that.

[Emma calls it suspicious, but Emma would. she's always suspicious, especially when the facts lay out in an especially questionable pattern. all signs point to their town being weird, and not in the quirky way they've gotten used to. she's starting to suspect that there's something seriously wrong here.]

But luck changes, right? Things will get better.

[ or they'll make them better, take your pick.]

[Clary nods her head enthusiastically. Her smile is bright and warm, her green eyes wide and impressionable. She felt untouched memories nag at the back of her thoughts but they'd all return in time. It's what she kept telling herself, sometimes over and over again.]

Yeah. Luck gets better.

[Clary, like Emma, is the sort of person who prefers to make her own luck.]

Anyway, what's the plans for classes now?

[She doesn't remember what they were working on before, just that Clary had been a part of it.]

Let me see, here -

[ she does have her own makeshift syllabus, which happens to be in the file she's carrying with her. it might be her attention to detail that prompts it - or, more honestly, the fact that she's still learning her own schedule. she offers a copy of it to Clary, with the schedule of classes and the breakdown of what to expect.]

All you have to do is show up and follow my example. I only take points off if you don't dress, or worse - don't try.

[ if her students aren't willing to learn, she isn't willing to pass them.]

Sometimes it's even fun.

[Clary takes the paper gingerly between her fingers, her bright green eyes skimming the different lists that are typed up on the page. After reading through it she hands the paper back to Emma with a smile.]

I will definately show up. [Unless there is another horrible accident that she doesn't remember.]

And you might not think I'm trying but I am.

[She laughs a bit, remembering some of her friends telling her that she punches like a girl.]

[ punching like a girl is a good thing, even if Clary doesn't see it that way. Emma might just have to teach her how to punch effectively so that punching like a girl becomes the compliment it should be.]

Don't worry, I'll make sure that if you try, you learn something.

[ if not, then she's not a very good teacher, is she?]

I'm really looking forward to it.

[Clary feels a laugh gather in her throat. It's odd, it's familiar but strange. She can't help but feel like there is something that she's forgotten. An imagine comes to mind. It's her mother but not as she remembers, all across her skin are small silver cuts. She tries to focus on the imagine but it's gone and a headache is left in it's place.

Her palm presses against her forehead while a pained grimace crosses her features.]

Ah, ow. Sorry. I think I need to lay down.

[She has to get to class but Clary isn't sure she'll make it. She feels a wave of dizziness wash over her. For a moment she sees as if a vale has been lifted from her eyes before it quickly returns.]

[ as quickly as the conversation changes, Emma's expression shifts with it. she reaches forward, a gentle hand against Clary's arm and a look of concerned to match it. they've heard excuses about 'the accident' plenty of times before, and Emma can't tell if this is a side effect of that or something else entirely.]

Do you want me to take you to the nurse?

[ taking the girl home is out of the question, she's not going to get the kind of support she needs there right now. it's the nurse or a doctor, and at least here, Emma could check in at the end of the day and make sure she's alright.]

[Clary shakes her head, flashing Emma a smile.]

No, I'll be fine. I just got a headache or something. It's been happening recently. I'll see you in class okay? Or if you stop by Aunt Peps. Let me know.

[She raises her hand and turns to leave, hoping that Emma doesn't stop her. She knows where the nurses office is and the woman there is nice. She'd be able to spend a period laying down.]

I'll check in later.

[ either at the nurses's office or the house if need be, but she's not letting her go unsupervised for more than a few hours if something is bothering her.]

Feel better, Clary.

[ They're both jeans and leather kind of people, truth be told, though Steve usually leaves the jacket hanging over the back of his chair during the school day, and underneath it's button-downs or sweaters, depending on the weather.

None of which are really appropriate for gym class (not to mention the good clothes he's sacrificed to unforgiving surfaces in the past), so Steve shows up during Emma's warm-up in a t-shirt and sweatpants. And he knows better than to sneak up on her — not a habit he's into, generally, unless he means it — so he's easy to spot coming across the floor. ]

As promised. [ Ready to be demonstrated upon. He gives her a small smile before glancing to the side. ] Should I set up the mats?

[ it's a little different, having an actual person to offer up a demonstration with. she figures the kids will like it because it's more real to them this way, and that it's Steve doing the demonstrating doesn't hurt, either. he's well liked around here by students and faculty alike, and probably a little more up for the challenge than anyone else who works here.]

If you wouldn't mind, yeah. [ it keeps him out of the closet housing all the dummies she's broken but hasn't been allowed to throw away. even Emma would prefer not to go in there if she could help it. in a town like this, it's outright creepy.] Thank you.

[ there's still enough of a routine to get through that she orders her group through jumping jacks and crossover jumping jacks, and then turns to help him finish with the mats.] When they heard you were coming, I had to turn away students who aren't in the class.

[ Oh geez, would ya look at this mat that needs his considerable attention. He does let out a short, huffed exhalation, though, which obviously has little to do with effort and therefore might be construed for a wry sort of amusement. ]

Yeah, well. [ He squats down to adjust the mat he just laid flat as he speaks. ] Good to know they're so dedicated. [ Then straightens again, facing Emma. ] Might end up needing it someday.

[ they might be kids, but they're teenagers. some want to admire his artwork, some want the amusement of watching this. then there's a whole other population of their little school that follows him wherever he leads. it's something else, but he's right - if it teaches them to defend themselves in a highly questionable town, it's a good thing.] Then let's hope they watch and learn.

[ she pauses for a moment. it's a ridiculous question, but - ] You don't have any weak spots, do you? [ a bad knee, a sore shoulder. she doesn't intend to hurt him, but she'd rather know what not to do before they start.]

[ More ridiculous than she knows, for sure, but there's no real arrogance behind the thought. If anything, it surprises him, softening the pull at the corner of his mouth as he glances up at her. ]

Haven't been asked that in a long time.

[ It's been kind of a moot point. He guesses he's always been used to it being a question not needing asking at any given time in his life, before or after the serum. He straightens up again. ]

You won't hurt me. Do your worst.

[ let's be honest, Emma knows her dedicated students will turn into an angry mob if she manages to hurt one of their favorite teachers, and that's without even getting into what his girlfriend would do to her. she's careful with good reason, and grateful for the help.

only Steve Rogers could admit she won't be able to hurt him without sounding cocky.]

I think I'll do my best instead.

[ with the mats set-up and the class giving their laziest push-ups, Emma gets down to do a few with them.]

Your starting position is a straight line, come down flat - push back up.

[ there's only a hint of frustration in her voice as she models the position, asking for five good ones before they can get on with their demonstration.]

Really, you'd do this when we have a guest? I told Mr. Rogers your class was my favorite.

[ Who knows, maybe some of 'em just want to find out if Emma can really take him down. He knows all of the kids here, and her words work like a charm on most of them, the same ones he'd expect it from in his own classroom. For the benefit of the few sullen outliers, Steve says: ]

C'mon, a drill sergeant wouldn't be so kind. Count yourselves lucky she's only asking for five.

[ With perhaps some indication that he doesn't mind providing a demonstration there, either, though certainly from where she's standing she can detect the amusement behind it. ]

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I just got lost and slept right through the dawn

THREE

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School

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gym class;

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