come back...be here

[unforgivably]

Who: Damon Salvatore, You.
Where: Around town.
When: Saturday, May 13th.
What: After missing this call, Damon closes the shop for the day and unsuccessfully searches for his brother.
Warnings: None. Yet?

the delicate beginning rush ❦ lagomarcino's

[ The Saturday morning rush is in full force, Damon not stopping for pleasantries as he moves through the confectionary to the sandwiches in the back, eyeing the people taking in their innocent brunches. Fake memories fueled him coming here first. Any fight he and Stefan had ended here, sharing something sweet. They hashed out their business arrangement here. They hashed out their side business arrangement. Passing the counter, he peers toward the back.

He even ducks into the men's bathroom, stopping himself from calling Stefan's name.

As the door swings closed, he spots someone familiar, approaching them. ] Have you seen my brother today? ]

the feeling you can know so much ❦ between the pines

[ He ducks into Between the Pines, first to see if Stefan has sought solace from his 'wife,' and selfishly to see if he shared what he knew with her. Damon is achingly aware of the days as they pass. Elena's memory should return any day now, and maybe a part of him selfishly wants this, a reason to not confront his brother. Something to distract him until his brother is ready to talk to him, to discuss what he knows now.

However he knows. ] Stefan? [ He waits a beat before calling out. ] Elena?

[ Phone in his hand again, he finds Stefan's voicemail. As emotionless as he sounds, he thinks Stefan would take more glee in retelling a letter he wrote to Bonnie, maybe as his way of telling him he's caught up. But, Damon can't be sure. ]

without knowing anything at all ❦ wayward pines academy

[ He searches through his memories of living here, trying to think of somewhere else Stefan might be.

It's probably futile, but he tries the school.

The handle is broken easily as he lets himself in the side door. He finds himself stopping, looking at pictures of he and his brother in one of the glass cases. He checks Stefan's small office, sinking into his brother's chair. He tries him again, getting Stefan's voicemail. He sees if Emma, or any other teachers he knows are in the locked school he assumes they might have a key to. He half expects to come upon a Breakfast Club, but that would be the wrong decade wouldn't it?

Never one to shy away from an opportunity, he finds himself in the main office, specifically in one of the filing cabinets. They won't mind if he borrows his family's permanent records, right? Any more clues that could point to why they're all here, why everything is eerily similar but off. ]

and now that I can't put this down ❦ tequila mockingbird

[ He's a professional.

Drowning his sorrows at his partial place of work isn't his style, and seeing they live in a town with more than one bar, now, he decides to park himself here at the bar, of course. Forget tables, or booths. He's finished with this day and this town. His brother isn't speaking to him, because of a reason he couldn't have prevented but also not one he could've presented either. So, he drinks. He buys drinks for the people he knows, and if they're nice enough the stranger who sits next to him.

He's just over the edge when he decides on something. Something he'd done with Katherine early on in this town. Technically, he could even lie about the lie and not be lying. Considering. ] It's an old game, tell me if you've heard it. Two truths. And a lie. You pick the lie, I drink. I fool you, you drink. And so on.

[ He liked the layers of this one, the false pretenses and 'false' truths. ]

if i had known what i'd known now, i never would have played so nonchalant ❦ chez salvatore

[ He ends the night dancing in the living room to records he picked up at the record store at some point, and some they'd already had. 90's classic rock. He pours, he drinks. He gives a good look around the house he shares. He reads those permanent records, learning more about their school reputations. He leaves them strewn across the counter.

Eventually, one can find him on their roof with a bottle of Wayward Pines' finest, Pearl Jam blasting underneath. He opened the windows so he'd be able to listen. ]

*let me know if none of these work for you, or if you have a better idea. assume he checks the entire town, really, or you can always see him on the street. or, even at the shop before he gets the call.

Comments

[unforgivably]

Drink, Edgar Allen. [ He sits back, pleased with himself before tacking on a ] Poe. [ Seriously. He's a Cancer. ]

[volitaunt]

[ Poe raises his eyebrows. Local references, man. They fly over his head every time.

Still, he drinks. ] How was it like this place?

[unforgivably]

It wasn't when I grew up there, but, years later and it became the small town it is today. Smaller than this town in that they had one bar. People were nice enough. They had more events, if you can believe it. What was it like where you're from?

[volitaunt]

Tropical. Quiet. Biggest attraction we had was a museum, built in these old temples. [ They weren't museum's dedicated to the temples themselves, but details. ] Lots of ranches, orchards. It's a nice place. A good-- [ He almost says "moon" before he catches himself. ] A good place.

[unforgivably]

Sounds quaint. Museum in a temple. Was your museum of the religious variety? [ Temple. ]

[volitaunt]

No. Military. The temple was a base of operations. [ Once upon a time. He still remembers them actually building the museum, the opening day celebrations. One of the busiest times on Yavin he can remember. ]

[unforgivably]

And also a museum. [ Easy to follow enough. ] Tropical's different than here. Do you miss that kind of weather.

[volitaunt]

Later, a museum. [ That seems worth clarifying. Poe itches his nose with his thumbnail. ] I've traveled to enough places that I'm used to the difference. Miss it sometimes, though. Mostly when I haven't been home in a while. So are you an Aries or 5'10''? And what's an Aries?

[unforgivably]

I'm a Cancer. And 5'10. [ A beat, though. ] Cancer is the sign I was born under. They're astrological. Or, is that more gibberish to you tropical temple folk?

[volitaunt]

[ Poe's eyes narrow. ] It's gibberish to anyone who doesn't live in this system.

[ He takes a sip of his drink. ] Or is that nonsense to you dirt planet folk?

[unforgivably]

Not when you call us dirt planet folk. [ He's never had to explain astrological signs, sir. ] Astrological. It's this system. Up there. The shapes the stars form. Plus, you believe it or you don't [ He makes quotations with his hands. ] science. I was born in June. I'm what they call a Cancer.

[volitaunt]

[ Cancer. He raises his eyebrows, because that's an unfortunate thing to be. ] You weren't even totally condescending. Good job.

[ The good job is also not totally condescending. ] My mother's a war hero. My father's a war hero. I'm a war hero.

[unforgivably]

Not totally.

[ Imagine that.

He listens for a second, knowing this one is a toss-up. But, this kid was the epitome of soldier on his tropical planet. And Damon's had enough mommy issues for a lifetime. Its not unpacking those again. ] Your father's not. [ Again, it's a complete guess, but it's a guess. ]

[volitaunt]

He is. [ He toasts Damon ] Drink.

[unforgivably]

[ Well. Damon drinks the rest, his hand going up, tapping on the bar like the ass he can be. ] Your mom, than? [ The bartender begins to refill his glass. ] Leave the bottle. [ The bartender gives him a look, tilting the bottle back, before setting it down. There's a bitchy smile sent his way as the bartender takes her leave. ]

[volitaunt]

She is. [ Poe watches the bartender go, frowning. He's not one hundred percent on the etiquette of things here, but he's pretty sure Damon was just rude somehow.

He'll leave an extra tip. ] Zero for two.

[unforgivably]

And here I though you were the model soldier. { He smirks, downing what was poured in his glass before pushing it away, fingers curling around the bottle. ] I fought in a war. I fled a war. I did a stint as a medic. In a war.

[volitaunt]

I think I'm done playing. [ He knocks back the remainder of his own drink, setting the glass down hard. Model soldier, Poe Dameron, jumping ship to serve the Resistance and watching from a separate system as the New Republic Navy got blown away.

He knows that isn't reality, and that this man couldn't possibly be aware of the fuses he's just lit, but at the moment it's hard to care beyond deciding to exit before things go bad. He gets up.] And you should be done drinking, probably.

[ Poe digs out a wad of paper credits and tosses a pair of twenties onto the bar. ]

[unforgivably]

[ He struck a nerve. ]

We'll see if I take you up on your bright idea. [ He won't. A hand goes up. ] Say hi to Caroline for me.

[volitaunt]

[ Ah. Poe half-turns, eying Damon now with open distaste. Ex? 'Friend'? Real or fake?

Doesn't really matter. ] I don't think I will.

[unforgivably]

Your choice. [ He even smiles, the kind of shit-eating closed mouth smile he can stomach. A side Elena hardly sees, a side that's evolved since then, but Caroline's a sore subject for him, too. ]

[volitaunt]

Yeah, it is. [ Poe shakes his head. Amazing, really, the rights that others think they have to a person's life. His or Caroline's. ] Enjoy your hangover.

[ Poe salutes, sarcastically, and heads for the door. ]