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.
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pineslog2017-04-30 08:52 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
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And then he started sharing information with her and she shifted slightly to face him more fully, listening intently while he talked about her brother. Jeremy. Her brother, the artist. How had she forgotten his name? Or any of what he told her? Being adopted, her uncle being her biological father, it was all important and yet whatever accident she'd been through had washed it all away.
Grayson. Her father, the one who'd inspired her to become a doctor. Maybe. The way Damon phrased things was... confusing, and certainly seemed to leave some things out. He'd said it was complicated, but maybe it was even more so than she'd thought. Maybe he was trying to ease her into things in another gesture of kindness.
Her smile faded for a moment as she thought of the other thing she remembered, the piece of the puzzle that sounded too weird to say out loud. She knew it wasn't, but still. Forcing the pleasant expression back onto her face, she gave a little shrug lifted her glass to take a sip of bourbon. "It's not a lot to go on, but it's a start, right?" She looked away, searching for something else to say, and finally noticed how much time had passed since Stefan had left. Frowning, she quietly asked, "Why has Stefan been gone so long?"
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What, he had been running around town like a crazy person.
"I should apologize, I got everything out of my system when I thought Katherine was you, and, now it doesn't even matter because you're married." And not to him. "Stefan left us alone because he knew I'd want to see you."
He could leave it at that for now. He could ease her in. He could hold back.
Almost.
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Because he... Taking a deep breath, she eased herself off the arm of the couch, leaning forward to set her glass on a table before standing. "I don't--" She closed her mouth for a moment before trying again, swallowing hard and trying to suppress the anxiety threatening to rise back up. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Why would we need to be alone for you to see me? Are we--"
She didn't even know what to think, couldn't begin to guess what sort of relationship they might have. Were they just really close friends still, or was there something else? The not knowing was what bothered her, not comprehending the life she was supposed to live but didn't feel connected to.
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They would always find a way.
It was hard not to put it so matter-of-factly, wanting to make it easier on her. He leaned over and set his glass down next, moving to stand. "Yes. We are. Stefan and you were, at one time, and you're good friends now, but you and I -" He paused, maybe for dramatic effect, but more because he dreaded what she said next. "We're in love." Anticipating what'd she say next, he took one step forward, bringing a hand up. "Before you cry creep, or yell out Stefan's name, or accuse me of taking advantage of an amnesiac woman, I'm still all the way over here, keeping my hands to myself. If you're up for it, there is a much longer story attached. One Stefan will corroborate." Corroborate. Guess those Law & Order reruns were doing their job.
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Not that it made it any easier to swallow.
Sinking onto the couch proper, she leaned forward to set her elbows on her knees, bowing her head and pressing the heels of her palms to her forehead. None of this was helping the headache that had simmered all that morning. What was she supposed to do with this information? And how the hell could he expect her to not immediately want the whole story.
"Tell me," she requested, mustering up enough force to make it sound more like a demand. Lifting her head to look at him with an uneasy expression, she clarified, "I want to know."
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Approaching, he made sure not to move too quickly, not to look like he was making a move. Coming around the table, he took a seat on the couch one cushion away. He clasped his hands, looking into her eyes.
Did he want to drop the 'we don't go here,' bomb. Or, explain the saga that was their relationship. He lowered his voice, low enough for Elena to hear but hopefully low enough for the cameras to not hear.
"We don't belong here. Not Stefan. Not you. Not Katherine. We're fed memories, without context if we're not right in front of one another. Katherine woke up after an accident a month after Stefan and I did. Weeks passed before we found our wedding rings and discovered we were married. The same thing happened with Stefan, except he found his ring and you weren't here yet. His wife remained a mystery. We're led to believe we grew up here, but I promise you Elena, we're not from here." He let that sink in, before adding. "It takes two weeks for your memories return. Your real memories from before the fake accident." His tone lowered, softened even. He tried not to come off disparaging. "Underneath all this," he said, looking away and up, around them at this house. "What the signs call before." It had been months since he'd seen her in person and been this close.
Finding her eyes again, he leaned in close, hesitant, but bringing a hand up to her cheek. At any point if she flinched, leaned back or tore herself away, he'd stop. But, if anything could prove to her how he felt, what they were together, hopefully it was this.
"Is us, Elena. You and me."
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This wasn't their home. Their town. Their life. That's what he was telling her, and it was... a little terrifying, honestly. A fake accident that had stolen her memories, but how and why. That it had happened to all of them, and at different times -- what could do that? And how were they going to fix this?
Were they going to fix it?
Two weeks. She had to face two weeks of not knowing herself, of not remembering her life or the man she apparently loved? It would feel like an eternity if the past hours were anything to go by.
She didn't move away from his touch. There was no flinching, no leaning away, she just stayed still and waited to see if the gesture sparked... something. Anything. One single memory of the two of them together to help her get through this. But nothing came. Reaching up to rest her hand over his, holding it against her cheek, she tried to find something and--
Failing. Completely.
"I don't remember," she whispered, her tone and expression conveying just how distressed she was by this fact. "I'm sorry." Because what else were you supposed to say when you forgot that you loved someone?
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His arm snaked around, pulling her into a hug. He breathed her in, burying his face in the nape of her neck. She was here with him, and she believed him.
Everything would be okay.,
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Melting into him, she felt the tension in her muscles wash away with the strength of those arms that held her. She wrapped her own around him in return, her hands pressing against his back while she savored that feeling of comfort.
"Will you tell me about us?" she asked after a few moments, hesitant and worried that he wouldn't want to, perhaps preferring that she remember things on her own. "I don't want to think about this place and what's happened to us. Not yet." It was too overwhelming and she felt helpless enough as it was. She'd much rather focus on their story and what it could tell her about the people they were. They could face their reality later, when she had a better handle on things, since the way he and Stefan had acted so far that day told her that the situation wasn't dire enough that things needed to be addressed right that second.
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"At the risk of breaking the rules," he said, tilting his head forward. "Or, did Stefan not point out the abundance of warnings and subtle threats?" Cameras? He told her about the cameras, he hoped. Not that he hadn't broken these rules time and again. Oh, he had. But, this was different. He didn't want to be caught breaking rules and have this be the time that counted. He wouldn't be taken away from Elena.
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"You can still tell me who Damon Salvatore is," she decided after some consideration. "And who I am. That wouldn't be breaking any rules, and it might help me remember something." Talking about who they were wasn't talking about the past, and she had every confidence that Damon could be careful with his words.
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She always was good at finding what they could do. She found answers. And, most of the time, she made decisions. (Not that they were ever the right ones.) But, as far as decisions went, he could get behind this one. She was right. In truth, there were three Damon Salvatore's. The human, the self-hating vampire, and the vampire who'd accepted what he was. That Damon had evolved into the vampire sitting in front of her.
"Well, you're loyal. You'll do absolutely anything for your friends, and the people you love. You're strong-willed, and stubborn. You tend to make decisions without thinking, and then we usually have to do something about those decisions. But, you make them." He makes that clear, having lived through the sire bond. "You feel deeply. You're one of the most compassionate people I know. You see the good in people, even if we don't want to see it in ourselves." But, that had been more about what he couldn't bring himself to feel. Hating Stefan was easier than missing Katherine. And then pushing Elena away was easier than loving Elena. "You bring out the best in me, even when I make it hard for anybody to love me. Or, like me." It wasn't harsh. It was true. "I wasn't always a good guy. I found it easier to hate my brother, than to hate the woman who turned us -" He paused, meeting her eyes again. "-Against each other. I spent a lot of years hating what I was, until I embraced the worst parts of what I was -- and that didn't take away from how much I missed this... woman that I loved. And who I thought loved me." He told his story, chronologically accidentally, but to talk about who he was in that moment, he had to talk about who he was then.
He hoped Elena knew the woman he was talking about wasn't her. He chose his words carefully, not knowing if Stefan uttered the 'v' word. Elena hadn't mentioned being a vampire or taking the cure, so it was safer to speak in the most basic of terms. Two years ago, even a year ago he wouldn't have been able to be this candid, honest with her or with himself. parts of him that had lay dormant for months were opening up again, winding their way around who he'd become, the man who'd set a false casket on fire.
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Lifting both her hands, she placed them on either side of his neck, her thumbs brushing the line of his jaw. Another action she didn't question, just following her instincts to connect with him, comfort and reassure him while he spoke of these things in a roundabout way that didn't convey nearly as much as they should have been able to discuss.
"The woman who turned you," she repeated quietly, emphasizing that word that she understood had other meanings. She might have mistaken his story to be about her, but the fact that she'd been told she loved him and he'd so clearly intimated that this nameless woman didn't, well that helped ease her worry on that matter. "I remember that I used to be like you, before I chose... to be how I am now. I don't remember how things used to be, but if I saw the good in you before, then I don't doubt it's still there. I know I'm seeing it now."
She hated having to speak in that same cryptic manner, not being able to just tell him what she wanted to, but she hoped he understood what she was trying to say.
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She shifted her position on the couch, pulling her legs up under her as she to process all of it. Some of it would undoubtedly have to wait until later, they were getting too far into speaking of things they shouldn't (according to those warning signs), and she'd just end up with more questions from any further answers he gave her. So she took a deep breath and focused on how they'd started down this line of conversation. "But you wanted to take it, in the end," she reminded them both. "Do you... still want to?"
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Things are only just starting to move in her mind, little flickers of emotion that she can't connect with yet, things that are so similar to what she'd felt with Stefan earlier and yet so very different. Hearing that she was in love with someone else, well that wasn't too difficult to grasp, especially when she believed everything Damon had said. But this, these declarations about a future that sounded so perfect-- Somehow they were just a little too much for her after the day she'd been having.
But how could she explain that to him?
She set her hand on his on her knee, visibly struggling with what to say. "Damon, I--" And then she was saved, not by the ringing of a phone or the sudden return of the husband who wasn't really her husband, but by the sound of her stomach loudly announcing that it was empty and something needed to be done about it. She clapped her free hand over her abdomen, as if that might hide the sound, and then... she laughed. It bubbled up out of her, a release of stress and tension and all the tangled emotions she'd been feeling the past few hours, and she felt ridiculous but didn't even try to stop as her eyes began to water.
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"Thank you for telling me everything, Damon," she finally managed when she'd calmed down a bit, her tone still light with a thread of joy in it. "I appreciate it." She wished she remembered everything now, that she could return his feelings and be the person he was waiting for. But since she couldn't be, and she didn't want to make him feel bad by saying something along those lines, she decided a change of subject was in order. "And I guess I should probably check out the kitchen before my stomach gets any louder."
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"Anything that's not hospital food," she replied with a bit of a shrug. She didn't think she was a picky eater? But-- "Breakfast was a bit on the questionable side." A pause as she tried to resist, but she just had to ask, the words coming suddenly as if she legitimately couldn't stop them. "Okay, but how bad am I at cooking, really? Did I burn the house down or something?"
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"Not - from cooking," he said simply, taking down a glass from the cabinet above. He cracked one egg on the edge, dropping both the yolk and whites in. "The one thing I ever saw you attempt was not enjoyed by all. But, you have other talents." Clearly, right? She knew that? She was studying to be a doctor. That was more useful than Betty Crocker. He cracked the second egg, dropping that one in, discarding the shell. Opening the drawer, he grabbed a spoon swirling the eggs around, beating them.
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It was nice to know that she wasn't completely inept (just in the kitchen), but that first thing worried her a bit. She had burned a house down? How, if not in a kitchen accident? Had she... done it on purpose? It was something she wanted to ask, though she wasn't entirely sure she actually wanted to know the answer. And anyway, she couldn't really ask right now, they'd already been skirting and possibly outright breaking the rule of not talking about the past, so maybe it was better to save that particular topic for another conversation.
"Other talents?" she repeated, the words coming out a bit more... flirty than she'd intended? Was it because she knew she was supposed to be in love with Damon, or because of how kind and helpful he'd been so far? Whatever it was, she went with it. "Such as?"
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