the logs

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.

Who: Malia Tate, Damon Salvatore, Marie D'Ancanto, and an open starter!
Where: Wayward Pines Academy, S&D Automotive, It's Raining Hen, Weaver's, around town
When: May 8 - May 14
What: School times. A full moon. Living life around town.
Warnings: Werecoyote shifting and such in the thread with Damon. Will update as necessary, otherwise.

Work your fingers to the bone, building castles out of snow
May 8. For Marie. After class.

[ School isn't her strong suit, and Malia doesn't think twice about that. It's her reality.

She's heard a lot of sayings about how much Mondays suck, but it's always been another day of the week to her. Maybe because she skips classes so often? Ha. Anyway, this Monday has her attending a class she's been to only a few times (really, will she ever even graduate at this rate?!)

The class, European History, lags on with each detail about the Industrial Revolution that she tries to absorb. She's the final student still sitting as class finishes, to have not gathered up her notebook and book, giving the pages in front of herself a blink of confusion before she finally closes it. Maybe she'd understand more if not for a nagging set of nerves that had her ducking her hands just under the desk to hide the dark claws that popped out, at will (thanks to the soon to emerge, upon the town, full moon.) Ugh. Maybe. She holds the book, still slightly open, fingers of one hand holding her place as she stands to move up to the front of the room, looking at her teacher. ]

I don't get any of this. Or, why it's important. [ Says the student who's...barely ever there. ] Why does steam-powered anything matter, when we don't use it anymore? [ Oh, Malia. ]

I'm a nomad walking on, humming to the same old song
May 9-10. For Damon. In the basement of the school.

[ Malia still hates full moons. With all her memories back, she can't help but go back to when she had her anchor, when she was a part of Scott's pack. When she was in the somehow safer feeling boundaries of Beacon Hills. Now, though, being controlled by the moon again has become routine for her. Upsetting as expected, and enlisting the help of someone outside the circle of what should be familiar could be dangerous. But, Damon knows that. They've been over it, and she won't fault him for doing what he needs to, if it comes to that. Otherwise, she won't risk anyone who isn't resilient -- especially not people from home.

Maybe it won't boil down to becoming a dire situation. She's kept herself secure each month, several chains fashioned, complete with loops that serve as shackles and this metal collar, for the circumstances at hand. Secured to metal hooks that Malia didn't try to determine the actual use of: they were there, that's all she needed to know.

Getting to the school earlier than she regularly would, wanting to be sure to be ready to go for Damon's presence -- she's taking his safety as seriously as her own, not wanting one of the people she can actually trust to die -- she lingers in the hallways until she creeps down to the basement, to the small boiler room. It has a heavy door, opposite the wall where she keeps the chain setup. A stop at a closet where she stores the chains before heading in, tossing the chains down, eyeing the wall with its small section of metal that holds those hooks in place, scratches along its surface. Oops?

She knows there are cameras everywhere too, but what do you want, Sheriff? To bring a werecoyote there, and then have them run around in town slaughtering people? No, this way works, and so far, she hasn't had anyone reveal that they know she's been down there.

She works to set up the chains, intending on hanging around in the hours prior to the first effects of the full moon, those tingles of rage indicating a buildup to a lack of control that she's so familiar with. When those happen, into the hours of the night, that's when she'll get herself chained in. It's how she's assuming she'll be when Damon gets there, although, she's not sure how early he plans to be, either... ]

Lower case society, tied to no community
May 11-May 14. OPEN + for Percy. Wayward Pines Academy. It's Raining Hen. S&D Automotive. Streets.

[ Another month, another full moon down. Malia lives there in town, tries to do more than merely exist.

Moon already starting to wane the tiniest bit, she feels refreshed from the 10th and into the 11th. That Thursday, she intends to attend her classes. Really, but. Instead, she sees a poster. Similar to ones posted before, about some missing guy, but the text is different. Staring at it outside of French's, she speaks to no one in particular. ] What's with this? How would they even know that [ that he's more dangerous ] if they're still trying to find him? [ Punching holes in yo logic, Wayward Pines.

That distracts her enough to scout around right in town for a bit, deciding to not head off for the woods. Seems more like an activity that should be done with a buddy, those days.

On Friday, after she attends all of her classes (truly an achievement!), art, European History, industrial arts, English, phys ed, and some science with a lab that had her staring out a window most of the time, she stops to get a quick bite of super nutritious fast food chicken before gravitating toward S&D Automotive. She has no reason to drop in on Damon, would wave and smile if she saw him, but she thinks she spots an unfamiliar form in the building. Naturally, she approaches, head tilting as she does. Did he just drop something, or is someone else in there working too? ] Hello? [ A little cautious, but also loud enough that whoever it is should be able to hear. ]

[ Her weekend brings shifts at Weaver's, taking up the position of a waitress and helper at the bar since Damon and Eliot are better at making drinks than she is. Somehow ordered drinks and food make it to your table -- and she's not even that gruff! Maybe working for a bit has naturally elevated her very minimal customer service skills?

Sunday evening (Mother's Day? what? not even) as she's walking home, she passes by the animal shelter she's never actually been into. She can hear quiet purrs, the occasional cat chatter between the felines within its walls: she doesn't care one way or another about domesticated cats, to be honest. Stopping for a moment results in looking down to see a cat emerge from some bushes, and it...follows her. Frowning, she turns and looks at it, the animal grooming itself in the mild enough air of the night. Moving again, she realizes it still trails after her, and she abruptly stops, hands coming out at her sides. ] What do you want?! [ Talking to a cat out of frustration. In the middle of the street. Yep. ]

Who: Katherine Pierce, Elena Gilbert, Magnus Bane, and an open starter to come!
Where: Between the sPines, Tequila Mockingbird
When: This month (specify times as we go if desired!)
What: Bonding over book store inventory; mimosa gossip;
Warnings: Currently none, but will update as needed.

A human vulnerability doesn't mean that I am weak
May 11. For Elena. Between the sPines.

[ A small box of books is set down right beside the paperwork Elena seems to be jotting across. Katherine picks up the selection on top, waving a thin book through the air. A picture book. ] Who even reads this? Don't parents tell their kids fairy-tales or sit them in front of Disney movies? [ Horton Hears a Who!, and if it's ever been one they've liked, she sure isn't buying into it. She flips through the pages, peering down over Horton, and the book's antics. A roll of her eyes before she sets it back down. ] There has to be more interesting stuff to look at than books for kids.

You see anything like that yet? [ A beat, not yet making eye contact since -- ] Sis? [ she's digging down into the box, finding some magazines and sighing. ] More importantly, have you seen anything in the back stock of this place that's at all organized? [ Not that she cares, but you've already pulled her into being there, Elena.

Katherine's entrenched in being frustrated over helping with inventory, yet enduring it. For the moment. ]

Yeah, you may be good looking, but you’re not a piece of art.
May 14. For Magnus. Tequila Mockingbird.

[ Sundays are good for brunch, right? Or, whatever. Who needs a reason to have mimosas? Which is...the extent of what Katherine cares about as far as the actual brunch menu goes. Sitting at an outside patio with Magnus opposite herself, she sips at a full mimosa, humming low in her throat as a couple, a man and woman, walk by, holding hands for a moment before that abruptly ceases, the woman frowning and crossing her arms over her chest as they continue on in silence.

Katherine speaks low, since she has class. ] If they've had sex in the past three months I'd be shocked, and I know for a fact that she wanted to marry his brother instead of him but...settled when Timothy ran off with Cherise. Can you believe there's actually someone from this pitiful town with a name like Cherise? [ She chuckles, takes another sip. Nose wrinkling, she makes a face to Magnus. ] They need better O.J. here. Makes or breaks the mimosa. [ But, at least they have champagne, right?! ]

We give and take a little more, eternal game of tug and war.
TBA.