(may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

MAY 1ST - 3RD

AFTER THE ACCIDENT

There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before waking up.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.

Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.

Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.

MAY 1ST - 4TH

GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN

However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.

It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.

Or at the very least some of the delicious treats at the school bake sale you're seeing flyers for all over town!

MAY 5TH

ANNUAL BAKE SALE, PRESENTED BY THE PTA!

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. Or, in this particular case, the hospital. There's no denying the hospital has had a hard time of it lately, between the steady influx of accident victims at the start of each month and the recent outbreak scare, and the Wayward Pines Academy PTA has come up with the perfect solution to show their support to the hard working hospital staff by vowing to donate half of the proceeds for the sale today. Maybe the hospital can see about finally getting the staff breakroom a decent coffee machine!

And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and flyers stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined. Not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today, and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, after all. Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

MOD NOTES

Welcome to our fourth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!

This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the 1st and the 3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the 5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, date, location, and Open or Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.

If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.

Comments

Elena Gilbert | Various Dates & Locations | Open + Closed

[otrazhenie]

{ may 1st: after the accident: closed to stefan }

It felt like hours had passed since she’d woken up in the hospital, but perhaps that was because she still couldn’t remember. Not the accident, not her name, nothing. Well, there were a few things, but nothing that was actually helpful. The nurses had assured her that it was all normal – she’d been in an accident, her memory would return with time. Perhaps it was the tiniest speck of knowledge that she, too, was studying to be a doctor that made her trust them, convinced her to listen when the doctor told her to rest and stay for observation, instead of leaving and trying to figure out what had happened to her. It would hae been easier if the nurses would give her more information, but so far they hadn't even told her her own name.

Her name. There were so many things it could be, and the only thing she knew was what it wasn't. Katherine. She was not Katherine. But beyond that, all she could find was fog and a headache that got worse the more she tried to force herself to remember.

So she waited, either in her room or out in the hall to see if there were others like her around. (There were, of course.) She picked at the breakfast tray that was brought to her room, but didn't eat any of it, her stomach in knots of anxiety. And then a nurse told her that someone had been called to come take her home. A family member. He'd be there soon.


{ may 5th: pta bake sale: open }

It felt right to be involved in something at the high school. Elena didn’t yet remember going there, but she’d been told by countless people that she’d attended and been an excellent student, always participating in extracurriculars and town activities. Apparently she’d even been a cheerleader? Everything was still a lot fuzzier than she’d like, but just because she didn’t have her memories didn’t mean she couldn’t help sell some cookies. And with her husband being associated with the school now, she really didn't have an excuse to not be there.

When she wasn’t manning a table that was overflowing with snickerdoodles and peanut butter chocolate chip delights, she was wandering through the crowd, hoping that the sight of someone there would help spark some recognition.

If only everyone would stop mistaking her for Katherine. It was so weird, the way she bristled every time it happened, when she knew that she and her sister had dealt with this all their lives. There was just something about it that bothered her. Elena loved her sister, they were friends as well as siblings, but she just hated it when people confused them for each other.


{ Want a specific starter or to chat about fake memories? Hit me up via PM or taintedcrimson }

may 1st - make it a hurricane before I go insane

[abetment]

It'd been a long day so far, and Katherine came upon the knowledge of her doppelganger being around through a nurse she'd been sure to include in her own little network. Let her know when certain people arrive. Unfortunately, the nurse fell short in assuming the girl in question, who got into an accident, was Katherine herself. Temporary agitation aside, she garnered the details she required.

No one would blame her for doing a bit of stalking around, right? Lording herself over the brothers while they coddled Elena into a sense of security (as if they weren't exceptionally kind to her when she arrived) wouldn't be very smart, would it? So. She didn't.

She also couldn't get back inside the house anyway, without making a scene. Look at the patience and decency she was capable of? Waiting her turn. Sort of. She could hear from outside, anyway.

Katherine would never claim to have lost her obsessive streak. Her sights stayed on Elena a good deal that day, the path finally rounding off to a bar. Where bars were, so were one too many drinks and the need to, well, go. Finding that blonde bestie distracted in conversation, Katherine stepped inside and quickly to the bathroom with two stalls (so quaint.) Where she stood with her back right to the door after it swung shut, staring over.

"Almost poetic. Meeting like this instead of with Caroline. I'd almost think I'd gone back in time if we were, well, somewhere with even more horribly cooked food." The Grill. Look, Elena! The woman who you possibly kept getting recognized as! Her head tilted, giving Elena a narrow look, eyes hot and flooding with darkness. "Settling in, Elena?" IE: come to wreck anything she had going. With your...annoying human self. Ugh. Not that that wasn't how she remembered you, but way to make things difficult for her. Not that they could get much worse, convoluted, though, right? Either way, she came in to harass Elena a little: sue her.

[otrazhenie]

Their not so casual stalker had gone unnoticed by Elena, who was far too wrapped up in her own memory loss and (re)connecting with Caroline to pay much attention at all to her surroundings. It was something she'd probably berate herself for later, letting her guard down like that, but she didn't yet fully comprehend just what this world was they'd all found themselves in.

Excusing herself from her friend for a quick trip the bathroom, she was washing up when a woman entered who-- looked exactly like her. Elena watched her in the mirror, the fog shifting in her mind to try to accommodate this person who she knew so well but couldn't quite place. This woman who didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Shutting off the water, she turned to address the other woman and it all clicked into place with that first proper look at her. "Katherine." The name was said with none of the irritation she'd felt toward that name all day, and instead with a fondness and affection that barreled into her out of nowhere.

[abetment]

Peering over, Katherine's patience wore thin as it could get, taking a slow step over toward Elena once the water ceased to run. "Always so doe-eyed, even here," how disgusted she sounded by that, too. Her annoyances with the doppelganger she'd come to loathe existing lingered on. Enough to say that, anyway. Then came a hard, long blink.

Word association. It was brutal, wasn't it? Elena always had given off qualities of innocence that Katherine could never capture, and yet there were few people in town who didn't admire both of the girls for their perseverance. Their lives had been so difficult; the dark hold of her features maintained as Katherine glared to the floor, curls framing her face and eyes unable to meet Elena's while she processed something so simple.

Reading a picture book together. When they were little. For all she cared about, it was some knock off of Bambi, but does. They came up. 'Doe' a deer, a female deer: no, there were no excuses for memories of show tunes being sung rising up as well. What kind of ridiculous backstory was trying to settle in now.

Her eyes bounced back up. "Elena." A repeat. But. Playing it as cool as she could. "You've seen Stefan. Damon. Caroline. Haven't you?" Broaching that fond, slightly at least, tone from Elena? Or, the memories that churned up for Katherine? No, no. Approaching matters from a vague view to see how the girl would respond? Much better idea. "Remembering anything specific about anyone, yet? Accident and all. Anything...stick out?"

[otrazhenie]

Elena had no idea who Katherine really was, what the two of them had gone through together, what they'd done to each other. All those years of hating each other were buried with all her other memories of life before, and all that she could find now were those emotions and little fragments that tried to piece themselves together in her mind.

Reading together on the couch, giggling at a storybook their parents had bought for them. Sneaking into Katherine's room when she had a nightmare, slipping under the covers and hiding from the monsters in her closet.

She shook her head slightly at the other woman who was practically her reflection, trying to understand what she was so obviously missing. "Not really, it's all fuzzy...," she answered, her voice trailing off as she took a step closer. "I know I know you, but I can't..."

[abetment]

Katherine brought a hand up, head tiling again. As if she could physically ward off any false relationship that was trying to wiggle its way into her conscious. "Don't hurt yourself trying to remember. You won't. Yet." Her eyes narrowed, lips rounding slightly as she scanned up and down Elena's body, slow and lingering, a gesture she hadn't extended since she first introduced herself to her doppelganger. This time, it was an action done out of realization that she wasn't willing to get herself into trouble, but also that she'd lose any favor with Stefan and Damon that she'd gained if she got Elena into trouble too.

Another step closer. "We didn't really...get along, Elena. Or, that's what it felt like, a lot of the time." A glance to the floor; purposefully vague phrasing, confusing in all likelihood, and she didn't care. "Then again, that probably seems pretty muddled. Who you got along with. What felt like what, when." A long beat. "Did you catch up with Damon? Did he get you up to speed? Tell you more than just how...unfortunate that accident you were in was."

Okay. This wasn't going according to plan. She had to wing it. Ignoring those memories, those feelings. Looking into Elena's eyes for an answer, she found herself hit with an emotion backing the long ago holding of Elena's hand, hugging her close, after her younger sister couldn't get words out. That talking couldn't be a part of their grief process. After their parents died. Katherine would never force Elena to talk about what she couldn't, didn't want to, couldn't cope with. Her lips thinned, gaze going inward, although the indignation wasn't aimed at Elena. For once. It was at the town at large. How fucking dare it do this. There was no chance to hide that she was agitated beyond belief, but she still waited for Elena's answer, gaze softening minutely.

[coy]

The moment that Caroline found out that Elena was here, she made her way to the Salvatore house. As if she wasn't going to drag her best friend from drama central to give her a huge hug? Her memories of Elena, back home, were still forming but many of them had come back. And there was no mistaking that Elena Gilbert and Bonnie Bennett had been two of her very favorite people ever. Ever.

Caroline knew that much.

So Caroline leaves her music lesson early to high-tail it over and... she tries to just walk into the house but she hits that barrier full on. She wrinkles her nose, rubbing at her cheek before she calls out. "Hello...? Is anyone home?" What did it mean? Had they somehow spelled the house? Had a human moved in?

[otrazhenie]

Somehow Elena had managed a moment to herself in the house that she didn't recognize but was where she apparently lived. With her husband. And his brother. People she only vaguely remembered but had fond feelings for, including real affection and things she associated with family. It was... frustrating, and overwhelming, and she was grateful for a moment to just catch her breath after the whirlwind the day had been so far.

Hello? The voice wasn't familiar, but that didn't mean she should leave the person out there on the doorstep. Taking a deep breath, she stood and made her way to the front of the house, peering around the corner at the woman who waited before stepping into full view. Was that...

The name danced away from the reach of her mind, but there was an instinctive understanding that this was a friend. Hopefully she could trust that feeling if nothing else.

[coy]

"Elena?"

Caroline's throat tightened with emotion when she saw her standing there and again, without thinking, she tried to rush to her friend, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier. It's then that it hits her, the truth. Or rather, Caroline smells it. Elena is... alive.

Caroline looks taken aback and she opens her mouth to question it, only to shut it immediately, knowing better than to air dirty laundry where they could be seen or heard. "Elena! Is it really you?" Or the other dopplebitch.

[otrazhenie]

Elena's eyes widened as the woman tried and failed to enter the house, and she remembered that she'd had to invite Stefan and Damon inside. Stepping forward, she gave a nod at the question and answered, "Yeah, it's me. You can come inside."

Someone else she'd forgotten, someone Elena was important to judging by that reaction. That anxiety from earlier tried to rise up inside her and she did her best to squash it down. She could deal with that later.

[coy]

Did you not want a hug? Because you're getting the biggest hug ever, Elena, as soon as Caroline closes the distance between the two of you. Caroline laughs and hugs her a little tighter.

tell me you'll never leave me and i'm not crazy and this is really happening

[unforgivably]

Damon Salvatore didn't like surprises.

Living here meant he was surprised every minute of every day, whether it be a stray thought, a false memory, or an opinion he could never have because he never lived here. A surprise he could never see coming was being launched out of the house he shared with a woman he hated on a good day and the brother who hated him on a bad day. Hackles raising, he momentarily blamed Katherine, bringing some poor soul on the deed, to protect them from who knows what. But, he knew Katherine wanted to keep the peace. She liked their arrangement. (She liked living in close proximity to Stefan.)

Damon and Katherine were each others' means to an end.

All day he felt one step behind, a state of being Damon didn't relish in the least. Stefan wasn't answering his phone, he wasn't at the garage. Nobody familiar waltzed bare-assed up to him at the hospital. Nobody at the sheriff's station blinked at his description of Bonnie. Because, their fourth occupant - it had to be Bonnie Bennett. He didn't think this place had the sense of humor of saddling his brother with Matt Donovan, as hilariously poetic as that would be. Damon would never stop laughing. Heretics were out of the running.

With no more a clue to who he was looking for, he returned home, the door now closed. At least that meant someone was home.

He tried the door handle. Seriously. He tried it again, knowing it wouldn't be open, but petulance was winning.

He resisted the need to pound his palm against the door and instead stuck with knocking.

He was expecting Bonnie Bennett, but the person who answered the door wasn't his best witchy friend. He knew instantly, (which would hit him in the gut, guilt piling up later on from thinking Katherine was her).

"Elena."

After being invited in, his brother excused himself. Damon racked his brain for what he could say to her, for what he could bend, rule-wise. But, maybe she remembered him. Maybe she remembered them. Damon and Elena, pledging their love to one another before Kai ripped that chance away and flung it far into the future. Or, Stefan had excused himself because Elena was like Katherine, from an earlier point in time when she felt guilty for loving him, or worse, from a time where she didn't.

Damon always had something to say.

But, here he was, leaning against the arm of their couch, at a loss for words.

[otrazhenie]

Everything was confusing, and frustrating, and the more Elena tried to process this entire day, the more anxious she became. Not being able to remember her own husband or the home they shared was just the tip of the iceberg, and the harder she tried to dredge up anything beyond the handful of breadcrumbs she'd carried with her since the hospital, the stronger her headache became. So she forced herself to stop, to just try to be in the moment, absorbing the information as it was presented to her.

It wasn't anywhere near as easy as it sounded.

The pounding at the door didn't help, either. Elena nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise, her heart racing at a ridiculous speed that only calmed a little while she went through the process of inviting her brother-in-law into their home. And then Stefan left and she was alone with someone she didn't remember for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Reaching up to run a hand through her hair, she glanced toward where Stefan had disappeared before turning her attention back to his brother. Damon. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she decided to just bite the bullet and dive right in.

"I don't remember you." Maybe not the most tactful way of putting it, but too late now. And she did sound as regretful as she felt about that. "I don't really remember Stefan either. Or this house. Or anything, really." Was it obvious how bothered she was by that?

[unforgivably]

He had done this over a thousand times he felt like. He'd done his spiel, usually with a sense of glib condescension.

He felt he betrayed her once, wasting his declarations of love on Katherine, who'd believed she'd been Elena. But, then he'd found her first, seen her first. Hadn't he always. But, history hadn't repeated itself for once. Stefan had been called. Her husband had been notified that she'd been in an accident. And her arrival sent him reeling literally. Luckily, he could get back into his own fake house.

For once in his life, maybe because of this growth, and a sense of preservation - he wouldn't want Elena taken, or captured or given a stern lecture - he didn't jump straight to what they were to one another. He couldn't. She was already dealing with so much. He couldn't just see it. He knew. Inherently. He'd been her, but with his brother. But, he also knew she must feel guilty for not remembering anything, him, or Stefan.

Anyone.

But, he didn't want to make her paranoid and think everyone was getting into monthly accidents. Not that they weren't. He wouldn't be able to hide that from her. Or, what he felt from her.

Or, what she'd felt.

He'd wished Stefan had pulled him aside, said something under his breath, something indicating what might happen, but he guessed what she did remember. One thing he could tell, she was human. And that gave him a breath of hope.

"Nobody expects you to. Not today, anyway." He wanted to reassure her, that everything would be okay. He finally left the support of the couch, deciding his next tactic, moving to their small bar area. "Your memories return. Everyone's do. Drink?"

[otrazhenie]

The guilt was definitely there, weighing heavily on her chest, eating away at what little sense of self she had. She felt fine aside from her headache, so it didn't make any sense that she'd been in an accident, but why would someone lie about that? They wouldn't, which meant that perhaps the 'accident' had simply been hitting her head - she knew that head trauma could do all sorts of damage. Because she'd been studying to be a doctor.

She watched Damon move about the room with ease, knowing where everything was and showing no hesitation in his actions. It was supposed to be like that for her. This was her home, she lived there with her husband, and yet she couldn't even begin to guess what might be stored in that closet over there, or who stayed in which bedroom. Nothing was familiar and it made her feel like a lost child, in desperate need of a hug.

Where was her family? Every time her thoughts wandered back to Stefan, she had the feeling that there was someone missing. The memory settled into her mind, or rather the knowledge that she had a brother, and she couldn't help but wonder where he was? Did he live in this town too? Did he know that she'd been in an accident?

Despite the powerful, gnawing guilt and anxiety, Damon's words did help, perhaps a bit more than everyone else's similar reassurances, for whatever reason. Maybe it was just that she'd heard it so many times, it was finally starting to sink in. Debating the offer of a drink, she knew that it probably wasn't a good idea, what with head injuries and alcohol, but in the end she just didn't care.

"Please," she accepted with perhaps a bit too much relieved force, followed by a small, quiet laugh. "Thank you."

[unforgivably]

It was nothing.

He owed her much more. Marriage. Humanity. Kids. A long and happy live together. But, they had this. Not quite, anyway. She hadn't asked, but as he poured, he spoke, filling one, and then another glass. Turning back, he offered one, giving her information he knew to be true. (Sure, it was his and his brother's influence. Well. His. Really. But, it was no less true.)

"You like aged bourbon."

Technically, Elena liked her alcohol. Partially because it curbed all those little vampire impulses, but also because she was his girl. Damon didn't date the sober.

Only the sobering, currently.

He clinked his glass with hers, watching as she'd taken a sip. It'd been more about making amends to the amnesiac Katherine when he'd offered hers. But, the circumstances were completely different. In a few weeks time, Elena would gain that hatred for Katherine back and he and his brother would have to explain the nature of their truce.

And his marriage.

"Normally, I do not have this hard a time at saying anything," he said, but what could he do. He downs the rest, before looking at his empty glass. "What did Stefan tell you?"

[immoderation]

Since the moment he found that ring tucked carefully away inside of his toolbox, Stefan has been simultaneously anticipating and dreading the day that his so-called wife might finally make an appearance in Wayward Pines. It stupidly goes against everything this town is trying to sell them on. Because if he really was married this whole time then how could his wife's absence go undetected for so many months?

As if he's not meant to find it the least bit suspicious that she's been hospitalized after yet another accident. (Is this how the upper echelon of Mystic Falls felt after every subsequent announcement of an "animal attack"?).

But whoever she is, one thing is abundantly clear and that's the fact that she's just as much a victim in this as the rest of them. So he finds himself rushing to the hospital, not as a concerned husband, but as someone who's been in that same helpless position before.

He and Damon had decided the most likely candidate would be Valerie, if it was anyone from back at home. The possibility that it could be Elena had never once crossed either of their minds. And yet there's no mistaking, that's exactly who's sitting in the room waiting for him when he arrives.

He freezes in the doorway, all of the air seemingly having vacated his lungs.

[otrazhenie]

The moment she'd been told that someone was on the way for her, she'd asked if there might be any clothes she could borrow, since obviously none of her own things were in the small hospital room. She'd checked. Twice. The nurse had hesitated, but had eventually found her a spare pair of scrubs that would at least be better than the drafty gown she'd woken up in. She'd bring it back to the hospital, of course, once she got home and could change. She promised.

And there it was a waiting game, each minute feeling like hours as she perched on the edge of the bed, wondering who was coming for her. Family was all she'd been told, but that could mean so many things, it was hard to know what to expect.

What she didn't expect? A man to start walking into her room and then go still, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Did he have the wrong room? Or... was just just not expecting to see her, like this? Swallowing thickly, she sat up a little straighter and quietly asked, "Are you here for me? Do you... know me?"

How pitiful did she sound, the strain of hope in her words clearly giving away just how uneasy she was, how nervous and upset she'd become because of all of this. It didn't matter how many times people had tried to assure her that all of this was normal, that really didn't make it any easier to actually bear.

[immoderation]

His shock is twofold. Of course, he's beyond surprised to make the connection that she's the one he's supposedly married to. But the fact that she could be here at all... While not quite so foreign a concept, considering he had -- albeit briefly -- been on board with the belief that Katherine was Elena... Is still something that shakes him to his very core.

The slight tremor in her voice does not get missed. Maybe they aren't in love anymore but Stefan can still read Elena's moods like the back of his own hand. His expression instantly softens into one of empathy and he forces his posture to be more at ease.

"Yes. They, uh, called me here to pick you up. My name is Stefan... Salvatore," he says slowly, unsure if it's a name she'll recognize in any way, shape, or form. "And you're Elena... My wife." The word tastes so wrong in his mouth, whatever sweetness there could be had masked by a harsh bitterness that fortunately doesn't leak into his tone.

[otrazhenie]

"Your wife. Elena." She repeated the name, trying to find some sort of connection to it, some emotional response, but there wasn't one. It was her own name and she didn't recognize it. His, on the other hand -- that one she knew.

Sliding off the bed, she noticed how much taller he was than her. "Do you have a brother? I remember..." She had to pause, to think through what she knew when there were only breadcrumbs to go off of. "I dated two brothers who were named Salvatore." He had to be one if they were married, right? Another moment passed before she added with genuine regret, "I'm sorry that I don't remember you." Her own husband.

[immoderation]

At her question and subsequent revelation, he nods in affirmation. "My brother's name is Damon."

Stefan imagines this moment would be deeply depressing under other circumstances. But as it is, he's just relieved. It's likely that by the time she does remember anything about their 'marriage' her other, more important memories will have returned as well.

"It's alright. I'm just happy to see you. Although I'm sure you'd be happier if you had your own clothes back." He gestures at what she's wearing in obvious sympathy. "Apparently the Sheriff has them. Don't ask me why, though." There's a hint of an eye roll that's audible in his tone.

pta bake sale

[toten_sie]

Randel's there, mostly to buy up anything that doesn't sell to be featured at tomorrow's cat cafe. He's been pretty busy trying to keep everything straight at the shelter given how many wounded woodland creatures came in. That's why he's hardly noticed that new people have arrived. But when he spots her, he recognizes her.

And he is well aware that she is not Katherine. He couldn't make that mistake if you paid him.

Because that is clearly Elena. His cheeks turn more than a little red at a sensation that's entirely alien to him swells up in his chest, a feeling that he'd thought was literally impossible for him since his memories had started coming back to him. And these memories, they don't match with those; they're the memories from this place, the ones he hardly recognizes, the ones that give him all the things and people he's wanted, either because he never had them or because he'd lost them.

A girl who always made his heart skip a beat.

A girl he never approached because, well...

He'd say the wrong things. He'd muck everything up, clumsy and awkward and awful as he is with things like this. He'd trip over his own lackluster words and he'd either make her feel sorry for him or he'd make her upset or he'd say something. He manages, though, to reach up a hand and kind of half-flutter his fingers her way.

Hi.

She doesn't have to acknowledge his existence, and in fact it's probably wiser is she doesn't, but-

Hi.

[otrazhenie]

Whenever Elena did remember something from the life she was supposed to have had in the strange town no one could leave, it was usually prompted by seeing something or someone related to the memories. Whether they were across the street or standing right next to her, the result was the same - images, impressions, feelings rising to the surface like they were emerging from the deep ocean, becoming clearer the closer they got. It seemed like not everything would come back, some of the memories still caught in the underwater current, but each one helped her gain better footing in the life she'd found herself in. That's what had happened with Nyx, the brother she hadn't had until two days earlier, and that's what happened with Randel now.

Before her gaze settled on him, Elena had absolutely no recollection of the man who towered over the crowd of people, but once she'd caught sight of that little wave of greeting, it all came bubbling up. Randel Oland, who had been Katherine's friend for the longest time, was kind and sweet, and worked at the animal shelter. They'd never really spoken even just in passing, because while she and Katherine were close as sisters, they didn't share all the same friends. But Elena found nothing but fondness in her for him, so she smiled brightly and lifted her hand to wave him over to her table seconds before a mother and young child stepped up to make a purchase.

This is what they were supposed to do, right? Blend in, pretend those lives that weren't real actually were, and carry on as if they weren't being held in this town against their will. Elena had always been pretty good at going along with the charade when necessary, so she gave in to the memories now and did what those emotions wanted her to.

[toten_sie]

This kind of moment is a perfect encapsulation of Randel's struggle with this place; it's the same struggle he faces when he looks at the lantern on his belt, when he considers what he can do and what he should do. Because this place is everything he's wanted for so long; it's relief in a way he hasn't felt since he was a child in his father's office, waiting for his mother to sweep him up in her arms, any of them. Because the memories of this place, the man with friends and a house and a business and a life, isn't the life of a man who left himself on the battlefield, the ghost he's become. Because the Randel of Wayward Pines never had a discussing with his father, a promise that made him a murderer. Instead, like Abel said, he could separate the acts of his wartime career from killing in foreign countries and make it a service, an understandable reaction to the dangers of the war zone. Not like the Randel of District Zero.

The Randel of District Zero had promised to uphold his father's ideals. That man had died on the battlefield and sent back a ghoul perpetually haunted by the hands of the dead, all those he had killed, with the sure knowledge that he deserved nothing: not a roof over his head, not happiness, not a family, and certainly not love. And that Randel lives in a world of nightmare, works for Section III where he's constantly shoved back onto the battlefield to help

To help

She's the lynchpin, of course, the piece that he needs to keep Randel Oland, O-Land, 0-Land, of District 0 in place. The woman holding him, holding him up, making the blood and the grasping hands trying to drag him back to hell fade away. He can't survive there, so his mind rejects it. Not without her. Whoever she is. And she keeps alluding him.

Instead, instead, like a coward, he dives into this, lets this place weave it's spell even as his fresh conscience here berates him for the fear in people's eyes and the furtive way they talk about their lives, unsure of whether they're breaking the rules.

It's just a little happiness. Maybe he can have a little.

It seems possible when Elena's smiling at him. That's why he walks over, careful of the small children that seem to be everywhere underfoot, watching to make sure that he doesn't bump into anyone in the throng. By the time he makes his way over, she's probably busy with someone else, but he'll wait dutifully.

He has to help her, after all. She's important, and if he can take some of the burden from her, he will.

[otrazhenie]

Elena was, actually, busy with another set of people when Randel made his way over to her table. A young couple, the woman extremely pregnant and wanting five of everything in sight. It made Elena laugh even while her heart ached fiercely - she didn't remember much, but she remembered that this was something she wanted. A family of her own, two kids so they could keep each other company and be close like she and Jeremy had been.

Jeremy. Her brother who wasn't here, the real one who would sometimes stroll through her dreams, leaving soft happiness or bitter grief in his wake. She didn't understand that second emotion, didn't yet know why it lingered like the taste of copper on the back of her tongue, but she tried not to think about it too much. The memories would return, everyone said so; she just had to be patient. It was easier said than done, of course.

Once the couple had moved on to the next table, the husband laden with yet another heavy bag of goodies, Elena turned a beaming on the man who towered over her. "It's good to see you, Randel," she informed him, meaning every word of it. "How are you doing?"