( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

waking up

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

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

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed. You're sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember getting, not to mention the vaguely-healed remnants of any wounds you might've had before.

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

Whether or not the room's 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. Welcome to Wayward Pines, 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. The hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You can even leave your room without much fuss - whichever doctor or nurse intercepts you gets called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Mingle, visit your fellow patients, even poke around for a few basic answers. Or maybe, maybe just stroll right on out the front door.

heading outside

One step outside and it's perfectly clear that your hospital gown simply isn't going to cut it for long. the sidewalks and buildings covered in snow and a crisp winter wind whipping at you through the thin cloth. It's like a scene out of a holiday greeting card or a snow globe, picturesque and nearly untouchable. And yet you're here. Touching it all. Dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. You should at least think about getting some mittens if you're going to keep, you know, touching it.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and coated in a thin layer of pure white snow. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Pedestrians spare you glances, some wary and some concerned.

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 and one that you might: Wayward Pines Police Department. Whether you asked for yourself or simply overheard, you've likely caught wind by now that all of your earthly possessions now lie with the Sheriff until you see fit to claim them.

Might as well head that way, right?

items reclaimed

So you've visited the Wayward Pines Police Department and reclaimed... well. Most of your stuff, anyway, though you can't quite remember what's missing. Best to put it out of mind, as you head down the steps toward the Main Street sidewalk. At the very least, pedestrians have stopped looking at you like you're sick or crazy. (Then again, depending on what you're wearing, maybe it's gotten worse.)

The sheriff also forked over what looks like the key to a house ("A cozy place to stay while you're here in town."), plus the address that it belongs to. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in.

Or you could stick around Main Street and sight-see a little. Also a perfectly viable option. Hell, maybe it'll jog your memory a little. A few of the shops do feel inexplicably familiar...

( ooc notes )

Welcome to the second newbie mingle log! We apologize for the delay.

This log is meant to cover characters' first day in Wayward Pines. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although the first couple of false Wayward Pines memories might begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the day 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.

Any questions about the log or its contents can be addressed to our FAQ or the intro log's designated Plurk.

Comments

Kenzi Mailkov // Lost Girl

[onteamdyson]

A) Hospital Escape Artist

The nurse has been and gone. An accident, she said. Head trauma. Bullshit, she thought, but then she couldn't really remember either way. Her initial reaction was just to object to everything the poor lady was telling her as she tried to get up and out of bed despite feeling like a mushy slice of banana that fell into a bowl of oatmeal.

It's scary waking up in a hospital when you do have memories, waking up covered in bruises and cuts surrounded by beeping machines with your entire mind drawing a blank on literally everything about yourself is downright terrifying. No, not everything. There's a few things she knows. Minor details, shuffled-up and broken fragments in a sea of void. A hospital isn't going to help her make sense of anything! It's just making her heart race and her breath come a little too quickly.

As soon as the nurse is down the hall, paged by another patient, Kenzi hops out of the bed and slips out of the room. Bare feet, thin hospital gown, tangled hair-- oh shit, what does she even look like? She doesn't even remember what she looks like?! She almost trips over a man in a wheelchair and bumps into a porter moving a patient on her way to find-- what, exactly? A disguise? Clothes. Nurses station? Maybe the floor of the hospital where the OR is. They have to have scrubs. Don't they have extra scrubs? Like for when a baby is born and the dad wants to be in the room or-- ... masks. Scrubs and a mask. That's what she's looking for. That'll get her out of here with no questions asked.

B) Dude, that's my stuff.

So, it turns out that mess with the scrubs wasn't entirely necessary. Did help with the cold, though. Kenzi shivers as she makes her way to the police station, which is a place she never thought she'd go to voluntarily. People in her line of work don't get along with the cops. Which is to say people that steal for a living instead of working and have gotten caught a few times have a rap sheet and that's not something she wants these guys looking at.

Unless it'll have some more information about who she is? Shit. That's brilliant. Good job, Kenzi, you're so smart and graceful and-- you just walked into another person. Wow. She must have hit her head really hard in that mystery accident because her balance is all kinds of off.

"Shit! Sorry. That was my bad, I'm sorry." Also, is this your wallet? Watch? Treasured pack of gum? It's called muscle memory, stranger. She tends to take things when she bumps into people. Habit.

C) I live here?

If the key fits... this must be her house?

She's ditched the scrubs and gotten her clothes back, but the looks people were giving her on the street made her feel all kinds of self conscious. She wasn't sure why this place would just give out houses if she hadn't already been renting it or ... squatting there or-- Whatever, maybe there were some clothes she could change into. Standing out in a crowd doesn't help her lift wallets. It really puts a damper on a getaway when someone can just point at you and shout "STOP! THIEF!"

But this was the address! The door opened! The living room was... huge. Holy shit. There's no way she could afford this by herself. Was there? Unless she was a jewel thief, but that's probably something she should remember! Maybe she has roommates?

"Hello?" Great, Kenz. That's the first thing the girl does in the horror movie before she gets stabbed to death. Nice. Better take a more cautious approach as she starts to explore the other rooms...

B

[smuttywitch]

"Crap on toast!" the words are flying out of Rachel's mouth before she can even think about them. She'd been digging through the big handbag the cop had said was hers, trying to make sense of its contents (handcuffs and needles? what the hell) and moving while she did it because while the leather was sexy it really wasn't doing anything to keep her warm, so really she can't be too surprised she ran into someone.

She's lucky she hadn't hit her head again. Or...whatever had happened before she woke up in the hospital. No, she just drops her big, unfashionable bag so all the crap inside it spils out onto the sidewalk. At least she'd put the jewelery on before she'd started running into people like a ditz.

"Ugh, no, I'm sorry, all my fault," she rambles while she kneels down, trying to get everything scooped up quickly before the stranger decides there was something wrong with her and she needed to go back to the hospital. She really hates hospitals. Which is...one of the few things she knows for sure. Well, it had gotten her ass moving, anyway. Her hands hover over the absolute mess of tissues, chapstick, slick black business cards and wooden charm necklaces, trying to remember just what all had been in there to begin with. "Really, don't worry about it," she smiles, maybe a bit too much, hoping this person will just get a move on before she has to explain the handcuffs, because she can't.

Katherine Pierce | OTA

[abetment]

waking up + walking through a hospital hall and into the lobby.

[ The clinical scent of the place floods her senses, followed by a barrage of sounds that only a hospital would have. Katherine's brown eyes snap open, hands clutching sheets as she tugs at any of the wires they have her connected to. There's resistance, so she stops and gets herself free of them. Her head hurts, one hand rising to rest at her temple as she gives a groan. She moves over to the door of the room as soon as her bare feet fit the floor. Hair straight as a reed swishing over her shoulder, she gives an uncertain look up and down the hall. It's bustling with activity, but no one seems to be paying her room any mind.

Oh, she can fix that. ] Hey. I need some help over here. Now. [ It's said loudly, enough to receive only a cursory glance from someone in scrubs, leaving her to huff. She starts to step out, toes stopping just in time to not be ran over by a cart. She scoffs, head still threatening to throb, giving a look to a orderly with an apologetic countenance. ] HEY -- watch where you're going. [ But he's gone, and she's turning to yell out again before someone in pink scrubs is standing there, smiling kindly at her. She gives them a hard look, nearly grumbling something about them sneaking up on her before giving the timely person a once over, lips pursing down. She steps back inside the room only upon gentle instruction.

Then she stays standing, arms crossing over her chest as she gets the run down. None of which she's wanting to believe, but the details threaten to blend in with the tiny amount of memories -- not really memories, more like awareness -- that she actually has. There are glimmers of recognition of being hurt, being in an accident, but it's fuzzy. More than paying mind to the mere words that she'll recover soon, she eyes the clipboard that the nurse finally puts sets back down.

Whether the nurse is acting in a fashion that should call for true suspicion, Katherine decides that she'll find answers herself and lets them leave after giving them a nod of well-played (fake) acceptance of the situation. She snatches up the clipboard (not like she can't read about herself, right?), brows going together as she assesses the situation. She lets it fall on the bed. ] Well that clears up nothing. [ At least she knows her name, which was alarming to not know when she first woke up. She begins to examine the room, fingers running along the blanket of the bed as she starts over toward the window.

A shame she doesn't have more memories, yet. The shade is drawn nearly all the way down, a thin stream of sunlight shining into the room. Her foot comes into the light first, causing her to cry out in pain, buckling down to grab over the pained spot all while that same beam spreads over her face. She's scooting back, way against the wall, wind knocked out of her from moving so fast (by instinct.) Pain radiates over her skin, but the marks made have already vanished to leave her with that same clear, bright, healthy skin. ] What the hell? [ Softly said to herself, and then she recalls then that she's a vampire. Immediately thereafter, three seconds too late, she wraps fingers around her wrist and realizes that she isn't wearing the bracelet that's meant to allow her to walk in the sun. She slowly stands, glaring over at the sunbeam. ] Won't be going out then. [ Until dark? She gives a look down at the hospital gown she's in. ] This...isn't gonna fly. [ It's unflattering, plus it's annoyingly drafty. After a quick, careful, search and finding nothing in the way of clothes or any other items that might belong to her, she's left to leave the room.

Slowly peeking out, she's cautious at first, wondering if someone is going to peer over at her and stop her from going any farther. No one does, so she shrugs to herself and starts walking at a slow pace down the hall, on the lookout for any room that looks like it might be specified for staff. Where there's a staff room, there's a chance for clothes to steal.

There's virtually nothing she can remember, which is disconcerting as hell, yet she feels the need to be in something that actually covers her ass. She passes by an empty room, looking in, catching her reflection in a mirror. She stops, the image of herself carrying a heavy feeling. Elena. That's not her name, she knows, but it's who she should be telling people she is.

A secret identity? What the hell is she? A vampire spy?

As she rounds another corner, her feet still when she spots the lobby. First floor room -- how sweet of them. No one is paying her much mind, and she stands against a wall beside a chair, feeling and looking out of it. Her eyes are cast down slightly as she listens to words spoken by someone she doesn't recognize, details about a sheriff station cropping up. Yet, there's the sun, pouring in through the windows. Lovely. ]

[unforgivably]

[ It's been one month. Two weeks of daytime isolation thanks to the Packrat's recurring five finger discount, and two weeks of playing the part of the affable local mechanic. Or, was he the brains of the operation? He definitely kept the books. But his own knowledge of car parts had returned to him when everything else had. It took a few days for everything to slot into place including his guilt over lighting Elena's coffin on fire and Enzo's reveal that he hadn't. That hadn't been Elena. With his best foot forward, he blends in. He shows up to work daily, takes his lunches every day, visits a local watering hole he remembers but shouldn't (everything he remembers here he shouldn't). It's routine. Something Damon is not accustomed to, but he managed in the prison world from Hell. He doesn't have friends per se, but acquaintances. Most he can stand which is something. Not that he's seen the girl with the eye problem since his first day. He's really only as social as he has to be, until he realizes that being social might lead to actual answers. So, he starts small. Saying hi to familiar faces. Asking Bucky to lunch. It helps avoid an Elena-sized elephant in the room, with just enough for the Caroline-sized elephant to reside in the corner.

Getting snowed in proves difficult, but they're nothing if not brothers. Unfortunately, it gives Damon time to think and drink. Something that always goes well. No fires are set and they escape the blizzard unscathed, finally able to return to the outside world.

Damon Salvatore has never had a problem doing what he has to. And for once, what he has to isn't actually hurting anybody else. For once. So far. Score one for brother who condemned his brother to run for an eternity, right after his girlfriend gave birth to magical gemini twins.

Yeah, he's no less a dick here. It's just in a different context. Even if nobody sees it.

Practical things, he does when he can - and unsuspiciously. One day he claims he's organizing a blood drive for the locals, and the packs are handed over easily - with a suspicious but friendly smile. When he's confronted about that, he sticks to compulsion should he encounter anyone. By the end of month one, he has the hospital down to a science. He's tipped off to another round of accidents, having overheard something walking to his car. The people in this town are quite the gossips. He figures now's as good a time as any to go for another blood run. On the one hand, sociologically he'd judge the fuck out of the nurses and doctors who were overwhelmed the first time this happened, and on the other he hopes they're still inept, in over their frantic heads.

He doesn't acknowledge the other reason he goes.

Last time this happened, he woke up here. Stefan woke up here. Who else might.

Elena isn't at the forefront of his mind, because he still has it in his mind that she can't. She's in a coma. But, anything's a possibility. And it's better than sitting around the shop he has a fondness for he can't explain. Frustrating.. He parks near the entrance, having committed the path to the blood supply room to memory. He passes someone who emerges, someone he doesn't recognize and he doesn't have time to fill in. He gives a cursory glance around the room, one due discussing the sheriff's station - and that's when he sees her.

All bravado seeps out of him. Annoyance and determination go up in smoke. In their place, disbelief - and relief, to an extent. ]

Elena?

[ He doesn't clock her change of outfit because like everyone else she's wearing the Winter Wayward Pines collection: draft-ass hospital grade gown.

He doesn't move. He can't. He's not prepared. What is he supposed to do here? ]

[abetment]

[ The longer she stands there, the more that Katherine realizes she may be looking the part of a mental patient. All of her mental faculties aren't in place yet; still, no one has approached her. No one's shot a glance her way, even, so she's not expecting anyone to try to lead her back to that room. She has no reason to go back there anyway.

No one seems to care that she could be a lost lamb needing some guidance. No one speaks to her until there's a voice. That name, and her eyes lift to meet those of who it came from. She doesn't move either, holding eye contact, swallowing softly and giving a faint nod. Before she gives a firmer one. Yes, she's Elena. ]

You...know who I am? [ Of course she's out of it, her voice a little raspier than Elena's -- not that she knows that. The name of this, honestly, really attractive guy will come flooding back when he says it, but as of that moment, she doesn't remember anyone else's name, much less faces. ]

[unforgivably]

[ Does he know who she is.

Defiant. Stubborn. Selfless to a fault. Hard slaps and nights in the rain. Deep resentment and earned respect. The person who sees the best in him. And she's seen the worst, outside of Stefan. A person he's hurt irrevocably and saved more times than he can count. They fought their way back to one another only to be ripped apart by Kai Parker.

But there'll be a time to kick himself for messing up one too many times, for denying their connection, for saying they're toxic to one another.

They've been through hell and back.

He approaches her, quickly, moving past a bare ass, ready to pull her to him, to kiss her, but he hesitates, knowing he hadn't remembered anything. He doesn't want to alarm her. Slowly, he moves closer, hands finding her shoulders and pulling her into him, deciding then and there he will never go. Yes, eventually he has to. It's seconds later as he scrunches his eyes closed when he knows he can't just stand here all day.

He slowly leans back, his hand moving to her cheek, into her hair, the picture of in her personal space. ]

You're Elena Gilbert. You're the love of my life. And, I know that that's not what you might want to hear after waking up from some freak accident you and everyone else here happened to be in -- [ He's getting carried away. He brings his hands down, as well as his intensity. Or, he tries, anyway. ] Names are usually a safe bet. Not yours, usually, but, you always manage to defy the odds. It's Damon, Damon Salvatore. Does that name mean anything to you? [ A beat. ] What about Jeremy?

[ When he'd awoken, he knew one name. His brother's. Maybe that's the MO here. Family can be remembered. Hopefully not what he once did to her family in a fit. Not that he'd remembered his more colorful acts. Just that he'd been a vampire.

He doesn't catch her change in tone. He won't be looking for it. She's been through trauma (an accident, he doesn't buy, but trauma is trauma and her voice shows it). He doesn't blame her voice from being lower, having a different bite to it. ]

[bulletfool]

a. heading outside

[His shoes weren't at the hospital. Ergo, Izumi leaves the hospital with three pairs of socks on his feet, and he looks ridiculous. He hugs himself while shuffling down an unfamiliar street, rubbing his bare arms for the blissful warmth generated by friction. This is the Ninth Circle of Hell.

Eventually, because enough is enough, he flags down a passerby.]

Excuse me! Do you know where the Sheriff is?

b. items reclaimed (java joe's)

[After a most warm welcome – maybe his family had recently moved in? – Izumi wanders the house. Nobody is home. This is weird. Where are his parents, his sister? His mobile phone is dead and can't help him, so he leaves to kill some time outside.

Wandering Main Street in wonderfully warm casual wear (the most important pieces, a pink jacket and sneakers), Izumi peruses the sign plastered on every building before coming to a nostalgic stop in front of Java Joe's. There's yet to be that faint rumble of a dissatisfied stomach, but he's famished. He digs through his pant pockets, his jacket pockets, then pats his pant pockets down, and scowls.]

I don't even have an allowance? Jeez, what kind of a kid am I?

b2. (504X residents)

[Once the day has worn on, Izumi returns home to find it empty, still, with no message or note in sight. Deciding to be proactive, he goes outside to knock on the doors of each neighbor. Should there be a resident present to open the door, he offers a short bow.]

Excuse me! [He's said that a lot today.] Sorry to intrude this late, but I'm looking for my family. Are you familiar with us? We live in 5043.

[abetment]

[ When the tide of memories turn, Katherine will look back on those moments -- coming together in a love, so pure and real, expressed to her under a guise -- with a regret that Damon may never believe is sincere.

She watches as he steps closer, shoulders going straighter, muscles tensing and keeping her eyes locked onto his face when he steps in front of her. It doesn't take memories to feel the power that's drawing them together. Her lips part when his touch falls on her shoulders, instinctively drawing in closer to him, hands finding their way up and over the middle of his back. There's love in this embrace, and she doesn't care to let it fade quickly. Without knowing this man (yet), there's a grounding in his presence, in the way he's pulled her to him.

Mirroring him, she moves back, slowly letting her hands fall away from him, going lax at her sides. Her eyes slide over slightly with the hand on her cheek, fingers going into her hair. She doesn't put any more distance between them than what he encourages.

Listening, her eyes flash with a recognition, a relief that, yes, he knows that full name. So does, did, she. She must have been posing as Elena long enough for someone to believe that's who she really is, and her heart thrums harder when he continues. The love of my life. Any girl would be pleased to hear those words, wouldn't she? Love can hurt but at its core, it's what make life worth living.

Her forehead creases when he goes on. She can absorb the heavy subject matter, but not everyone would be able to, she realizes. A hand lifts to touch lightly near his collarbone when she hears that doubt about the situation at hand in his tone. A freak accident.

She breathes in, long but without much physical rise of her body, when he zeroes in on an easier concept to relate to. Names. If she could catch all of the implications of what he was saying, she may regret not really being this Elena girl -- but as it stands, with Damon saying what he has, she feels far more like Elena than the mere notion of pretending to be her.

Her breath holds at that name, gasp rising and causing her chest to jerk just so. Damon. Salvatore. Yes, she does know him. But then her head shakes, eyes shutting. ] No. Who's Jeremy? I -- I remember your name. But, not...not anything else. [ A long pause, lips open, brows knitting. ] And...Stefan. [ There's no elevation of her tone, only curiosity, looking to him to justify if a Stefan exists. ] Salvatore. [ As if she needed to clarify.

She breathes in again, looking over to the front entrance. ] You...you didn't know I was here? You were surprised to see me. [ Incoming comments made by a newbie who hasn't seen a sign with any rules of Wayward Pines conduct. ] But...you're my... [ she glances down, reaching to gingerly takes his hands in hers, looking them over, seeing the ring, bulky and heirloom-like ] boyfriend? ...Husband? [ Well. She lets her hands part from his. ] How did I get here, wherever here is, Damon? [ The name feels familiar on her tongue, really and truly. ] How did we? [ She pushes in a little closer, swallowing, holding eye contact. Until her jaw tightens just so, eyes shutting as she gives a small grimace, evidently trying to recall more than what she's able. ] I can't...remember...

Skye | Agents of SHIELD | OTA

[morethan084]

[Waking Up]

[The last thing Skye remembered was falling out of a flying car and then she woke up in a hospital filled with people that did not look remotely familiar, not exactly the type of situation anyone would enjoy being in. What made her really panic though, was her lack of any solid memories. Save for a few, but were those even real? The nurse talking to her assured her that this was normal, that she had some head trauma from the accident. Not really reassuring to know your brain is messed up.

Feeling antsy, Skye ignored the warnings to stay until a doctor came in to make sure she was okay to go and left her room. Hand holding the hospital gown shut, despite the fact that it was tied Skye wasn’t very confident that if a sudden breeze flew past no one would see anything. Turning a corner, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she almost knocked into someone. They looked just as confused as she did.]

…Did you get in an accident too?

[Heading Outside]

[The cold air was nice for about two seconds before she was quickly reminded that, yes, she was only wearing a hospital gown. It would’ve made way more sense to just turn around and go back inside, maybe ask for her actual clothes back. They had to have them, right? Except a part of her felt it was better to keep going and not go back inside. Maybe that was the ‘head trauma’ or maybe it was something else. Either way she still felt very much out of it and it seemed others noticed. Or maybe it was the fact that she was outside wearing essentially paper.

The white snow on the ground with the snow reflecting off of it was blinding and Skye had to squeeze her eyes closed for a moment before opening them when someone asked her, politely, to move out of the way. Her eyes had just caught the signs telling here where not only main street was, but also the police station. As she was reading the sign, Skye overheard someone talking about how the police station was holding their stuff. Brows knitting together, Skye turned to them.]

Shouldn’t the hospital have that stuff?

[Items Reclaimed]

[With her belongings back in her hands, Skye is left feeling still very much confused. The clothes she was wearing didn’t trigger anything. The computer, however, did. She felt excitement/relief at seeing it here and then immediate annoyance when she realized it didn’t work properly. There was no internet. Throwing out her hospital gown, and now dressed a little bit more warmly, Skye stepped outside. Backpack slung over her shoulder and key to a house that didn’t belong to her, Skye shoved the piece of paper with the address into her pocket for now.

Looking around to see if anything, or anyone, looked familiar, Skye’s eyes fell upon a cafe called Java Joe’s which triggered another familiar feeling in her. Or maybe it was because it was freezing and coffee seemed like a really good idea right now. Either way, after looking both ways, Skye crossed the street to go inside. Thanking the person in front of her when they held the door for her after they stepped in.

The smell of coffee was warming enough on its own. Unsure of what to order as she didn’t remember what she liked, or hell, if she even liked coffee, Skye finally settled on whatever the barista felt like making. Once she had it, she moved over to a small empty table. Taking out her laptop again, Skye set it on the table and reached for her cup of coffee as the screen came back to life. Looking through files, Skye’s heart sank a little as she was reminded suddenly of what she did on this computer. Highly illegal things. Hacking into government agencies even. Looking around to make sure no one was actually looking at her screen, Skye caught someone staring right back at her. Gnawing at the inside of her cheek, Skye quickly looked away and closed her laptop as she reached for her cup of coffee and took a sip.

Yep. That was disgustingly sweet. ]

[Wild card]

[Wanna do something that's not on here? Feel free to start something or shoot me a message on plurk punkchica321.]

[unforgivably]

[ She remembers him, but not her brother. Now it's his breath who catches. He expected to have to explain himself, to work backwards, convince her through touch, and eye contact, and an inherent trust of who he is, but she knows his name. How can he not have a selfish thought in that moment. It isn't as if the young Gilbert isn't off doing god knows what at art school. (He isn't.) ] Don't hurt yourself trying, the memories are few and far between in the beginning, [ But, with one Salvatore comes another, and a sliver of the old Damon rears its ugly head within him. He's the vampire who stole his brother's girl. Twice. It's always more complicated. But in its purest form, this is what it comes down to. ] Stefan's my brother.

[ It's not the time to explain a long and complicated history of betrayal, feelings kept at bay, tragedy, and selfishness from all involved. Small bursts of information are best. If he weren't in a sham town, maybe he'd give her a deeper run down. After all, he'd gone through this with his brother. Amnesia had claimed him, too, thanks to the benefits of Ms. Quetsiyah and her several thousand year paranoid grudge.

His stomach lurches, driving away thoughts of Quetsiyah and Silas. That year was one of the worst. Then again, name a year that wasn't. ]

Boyfriend, but I promised to marry you someday and I'm fulfilling that promise. [ He brings her wrist to his lips, falling back into old patterns, affection coming easily, with only her reaction being foreign. But she doesn't leap back, cry out, feel it's wrong.

They're MFOE, right?

The implications of Elena being here, that while Stefan and Damon acclimated to a town not unlike their own that something happened to Bonnie linger underneath. But, that guilt will come with time. Not when Elena is here in front of him and any real pain would have to be explained beyond her non-accident. The concept of forever has always been an elusive one for Damon Salvatore. What he keeps most to himself is his intentions before waking up here, how seventy years would have gone by in a flash. And then he would've had decades. Priceless decades. ]

Hey. Easy. I meant it before. When you wake up here, you remember very little. It's - glimpses into who you are. I remembered Stefan. And - [ He pauses, knowing full well that her memory could be as isolated as anyone else's. She doesn't remember the coma, Kai. His hand brings hers down again, fingers pulling back, knowing full well this explanation can't be useful, or helpful. But, it's all he has. ] not much else. You're not going to like it, but I promised once to keep you in the loop from now on, so, I don't know. We don't know how we got here. A month ago today, Stefan and I woke up here, like you, were told we were in an accident like you, along with a handful of other, priceless personalities. [ No reason to keep back his real personality. That judgment. ] There's more, but we should find you clothing. And something tells me your key should match ours. [ That's said more to himself, as he glances back behind them. ] They frown upon personal details in public here. Very staunch town. Very Beaumont. Or, that country club in Dirty Dancing. Everyone remembers Swayze and Baby, but can anyone name the country club itself?

[onteamdyson]

Okay, but, that was actually the greatest swear she's heard since... um... since... ever? As far as she knows. It actually gets a smirk from Kenzi, which is more than anyone else has done since she woke up here.

Kenzi kneels down, too, intending to help shove some of the scattered belongings back into the woman's bag. She's not sure if the automatic, reflexive way she starts helping is because she actually wants to help or because she wants to see if there's anything she can palm and hide in her stolen scrubs for later. Wow. There's a chance she might actually be a bad person. That kind of sucks?

"I'm not worrying, I'm apologizing. It's what Canadians do." Where'd that come from? Another piece of the puzzle? Thief, check. Canadian, check. Last name... still fluctuating between a few and she can't figure out which one is the right one.

She does see the handcuffs, picks them up and everything, but she doesn't ask any questions. Honestly, she just assumes this lady is a cop which means stealing from her is probably a bad idea. She hands over the handcuffs with a small smile, finally giving the person she unceremoniously bumped an actual once-over. Nice outfit.

"Arent't you freezing?" Said the girl in nothing but scrubs. No coat, slippers with those little hospital socks they give you. She's really one to talk.

Nyx Ulric | FFXV

[sirnyxalot]

A) Hospital

[Nyx has never woken up in so much pain. He thinks. Certainly can't recall another time where it's been worse. He gasps like it's a miracle to even breathe, and it's almost too hard to focus on why. He remembers fire? Maybe? There'd been a lot of fire, and noise.

The nurse bustles in as he tries to sit up, pushing on his right shoulder to get him to lay down again. It's almost pathetically easy. His body has no strength in it. Hurt and slow. Fear curls like a monster in his gut as he looks up at her. He's dead, he has to be. There's no way he could be alive right now. But how could it hurt so much if her were dead?]

Libertus...?

[His voice croaks, and the nurse shushes him, placing a glass of water beside the bed. "Is that your name, sweetheart?" she asks him. He draws in a breath, shaking his head. That's not his name. His name is...]

I'm...?

[The world slants on him as he tries to fill in the blank, pain fading into nothing.

The second time he wakes up is easier. Doesn't quite hurt so much. The nurse takes a little longer to arrive than she did before, a soft expression on her face as she realizes he's awake. She helps him to sit up and he finally gets the opportunity to try and take in where he is. The room looks unfamiliar, but she tells him it's a hospital when he asks where he is.

He can't answer her questions. His name's a blank. He knows a few, but they all belong to people already. People who're going to be worrying about him. She tells him he took a hard hit during the accident. Tells him to stay put so his injuries don't get worse. He nods as she leaves.

It's sound advice, he realizes belatedly, as he takes the chance to look down at himself. His left arm is bandaged from his fingertips to across his chest, supported entirely by a sling around his neck. His hand trembles as he tries to clench his fist, and a lingering note of pain rolls through the limb in response. His other arm seems mostly fine, if covered in scrapes and bruises. He remembers fire, if nothing else.

How the hell is he alive?

Groaning deeply, he swings his legs out of the bed. It was a chore to get up. His legs were almost as shaky as his arm, but he couldn't see any serious bandaging on them. It took longer than he'd like to shuffle to the attached bathroom, and looking in the mirror didn't help his confusion. The bandages ended at his neck, partially healed scars arcing up from underneath it to stretch along his face into his hairline. Did that come from the accident?

His head remained frustratingly numb trying to remember. It was no use. He needed to find his friends and let them know he was okay. Ask them who the hell he is.

That decided, he leaves his room to try and find a phone or something.]


B) Items Reclaimed

[He shouldn't have left the hospital. Whatever medicine they'd had him under was beginning to wear off, and getting dressed at the police station had almost been agony. Nyx doesn't even put on the coat all the way. Just puts his arm back into its sling and pulls the coat over top of it. He's grateful for the warmth, but just getting his shirt on was enough, thank you.

He wouldn't have even known the clothes were his, except that the other coat was damaged. Missing a left sleeve entirely, the edges burnt to a flaky crisp. He noted that it looked like a uniform, but the Sheriff told him the insignia was custom made, so it didn't help him. Nevertheless, he took the bag he was given and the key and released back into town with a firm suggestion to get some rest.

The town looked kinda familiar as he slowly backtracked up the street. It was better than anything else he's tried to remember so far. The unease that had stuck with him for the last hour or so was beginning to fade in the wake of that familiarity, and he stops in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment to just breathe in the sharp chill of the air.]

[abetment]

[ Of course she'll keep trying to remember more, even with whatever mental block there is.

Clear on her face is the fact that she hasn't connected any other dots of the past, who Stefan has been to her, or anyone else. He's Damon's brother, and she, as Elena (because she must have been posing as Elena, for some reason, right?), would naturally know and care about the brother of the person who loves her. Right? Whatever definition one can assign to caring in this case.

She gives a slow at his clarification, turning the idea of being in love, enough to marry him, over in her mind. It wouldn't be a difficult thought, an innocent daydream, if not how the rest of the circumstances lay. There's a connection she has with him that's undeniable, and even without knowing all of her history, his, hers, Elena's, there's a quiet fondness in her expression with any moments of affection.

When she goes into trying to recall and fails, her lips press together, shoulders shifting in toward herself, sighing out through the start of his answer. It's confusing, no matter how clearly she hears what he says. There's a flash of wondering in her eyes when he brings up having promised to keep her in the loop -- it implies she hasn't always been.

Her shoulders fall back, lips barely open and looking like they could pout at any second, hard look on her face when he says the brothers don't know how they got there. That the same situation transpired for them. Great. She's not entirely concerned with talking to anyone who doesn't know who she is -- a true sort of bittersweet irony, all considering she thinks she should be acting like Elena, however she's meant to do that, and not letting anyone really know who she is. Either way, she takes in those details. This happened to other people. Not just the three of them.

She nods at getting clothing, a hand rising to cross over her chest and brush mindlessly against her upper arm as she gazes over and past Damon for a moment. A key. Then, a slew of words where his message comes across, but she doesn't grasp the reference he uses. ] A key. To a house? [ She didn't hear much in the way of detail about what you can actually get at the sheriff's station... ] And, I wanna get out of this. [ With a small sound of annoyance, her hand moves over to tug at the top of the hospital gown. ] Did you -- have things here [ she gives a firm look around them, meaning the hospital ] after you woke up? [ A cautious gaze is cast over to the outside, knowing she can't cross over into the sun. ] There wasn't anything in the room I woke up in.

[ She's not going back to that room. Feet shifting to put her body closer to his, her voice goes to a whisper, looking up into his eyes. ] I don't like this. It doesn't feel safe. You don't sound like you like what you're saying to me, either. [ It's better than trying to press for more details, if the public discussion of those are frowned upon. But, she's listened to all he's said, has taken it in, and she sees the seriousness of it all. ] I'm... [ well, she doesn't actually want to say that it's creepy enough to scare her a little, but...she is edging toward scared, looking down at the floor for a moment. Especially feeling like she should be able to trust him, that he's giving her reasons that she can, but he also sounds uncertain about certain things. Plus, there's the whole sun thing...she's not sure if he knows about that or if anyone else does either. ] You're gonna help me. [ Obviously, and it's said with just a hint of question; she's not exactly completely with it just yet. ]

[smuttywitch]

The other woman's smirk does a bit to calm Rachel's worry that she looks like a totally crazy flake, even though she still feels like one. And the Canadian comment actually makes her laugh a little too, even though she's not sure why she understands the reference.

She only flushes a little when the woman gives her the cuffs, quickly shoving them back in her bag. At least she'd decided not to take the weird mirror until she had something bigger to carry it in. "Probably not as much as you are." But she wasn't sure that was true. She felt unnaturally cold--yeah, she was wearing a cami top, but the jacket should have been a little more insulating. Maybe she'd been sicker than she'd thought and should have stayed in the hospital? Nope, there was no way in heck she was going back there.

She feels herself trying to raise an eyebrow as she pulls her bag back over her shoulder and stands up to look the woman over a bit better, but it doesn't work. Okay, can't do that eyebrow lift thing. A flash of someone else doing it comes to her, a woman with dark hair--Ivy, the name finally matches a face in her memory--and she files that away for later. "Looks like you were an even bigger hurry than me to hightail it out of the hospital, huh?"

[unforgivably]

[ Damon gets carried away, with his word, with his actions, with his impulses for sure, so dropping a pop culture reference Elena doesn't get doesn't exactly land. He knew basic amenities, understood how hospitals work, but other than being a vampire and having a brother, he was pretty much at a loss when he'd woken up. He too pinpoints the details, and focuses on those. He focuses on her questions, what she's getting out of this. ]

Surprise. We live here. [ He doesn't sound convinced and he's not working at convincing her. ] Stefan and me, we live in a house together, but it has a third room. [ He's not about to push her to stay in his, to push a connection he can't recreate. He's been through this once before - with more Elena to work with, but also with more contempt. This is a slight improvement. Or, a lateral move. She doesn't openly hate him and she's not avoiding him. She has no choice at this juncture. She could get to a point where she wants to. He wouldn't force her into anything. ]

Nor mine. Stefan's. Lady with the scars. The sheriff prefers to strip us of everything - possibly to paw at our things, possibly to make back alley deals in the backs of trucks so we have to barter to get our things back. [ He instinctively turns his left hand, palm upward, right thumb and forefinger finding his family ring. ] Anyway, everyone takes a trip there, gets what they can back. [ The sheriff probably wants to get a look at everybody's faces. But, he knows how overwhelming he's being without voicing that paranoid thought.

She shifts, leans closer, Damon's hand finding her waist, fingers lightly splayed along, listening to her. He turns his head slightly, lowering his voice. He mistakes her tone and seriousness for catching on to something being off - and not with the mass amnesia, but the cameras nearby. There's a reason Damon hasn't been more forthcoming, or that he hasn't shared more facts. ] I don't, but this is how things are. [ As he told someone his first time round, 'them's the brakes.'

His hands find hers again, as he intertwines their fingers. ]

If you let me, I will. I won't let anything else happen to you, Elena.

[ He nods once, waiting for confirmation, before the moment passes. ] Do you want to find something less comfortable but less revealing to change into or do you want to go right to the sheriff's? [ He thinks about it, knowing he owes his brother a call, and if he's at home, he'll answer.

The rules.

He can work with either. This is Elena's operation. He's just here to help in any way he can. ]

[abetment]

[ Her expression turns quizzical as she aims to read his tone, picking up on what seems like it could be a more important detail: that the house they're in has an extra room. Katherine gives another nod, finding that's sure a common reaction to all of this. Better to feel like she has someone on her side rather than being left helpless. ] I...don't think I wanna be alone right now. Or, for awhile.

[ She makes a sound, a light scoff, in otherwise silent frustration at the absurdities this place seems to be all about. Theft and bartering? What? There's a quick glance when his hand moves, brows lifting when he highlights the key detail. You get your unstolen stuff back from the sheriff. Creepy. Another nod.

A frown spreads on her lips when he replies frankly about not liking things, but she expected that answer. At that point, aid is really what she cares about, corners of her lips tugging up a hint. More out of uncertain nerves than in any true sense of a teeny smile. She gives his hand a squeeze. ] Thank you -- Damon.

[ She considers that question, holding onto his hand still. ] I'd like to find something else to wear first. [ A beat, because he obviously has an idea, and so had she... ] I was...going to try to find something, but I ended up here before I could find anything. I was trying to find a room for staff.

[unforgivably]

You won't be.

[ Ever again is left unsaid. It's probably not comforting to have a new stalker upon wake-up, but it's a silent promise to be there in the other room. He's going to make sure she doesn't fall into a mystical coma, doesn't fall into the wrong hands, doesn't almost die. He won't call it hovering, he is not a parent (not that any parents in Mystic Falls were helicopter parents), but he will be there, every step of the way. Especially in these next few weeks, if memories work like clockwork. ]

There're a few. Come on. Let's find you a locker room. This won't be the first time I've taken you shopping. [ Or stolen something for her. A joke on one of those dates as they walked out with a hat Elena was wearing. A harmless crime. It doesn't occur to him that memories could be converging again. Or, if they're real memories. Or, just notions. It is a victimless crime.

Taking her by the hand, he leads her back from the lobby into the recesses of the hospital, pushing through the 'authorized personnel only' door, moving past the ER, passing a few open rooms down one hall and then on the opposite wall. It's near the elevator and the handle pulls down like he remembers. There's no locker combination, just an unspoken promise that people won't steal. Or, maybe that they won't need to.

Holding the door open, he waits for Elena to make her way inside. The light shines only in the back left corner, Damon moving to the first row. ]

Broke these two locks last week. Guess they keep their stuff in their car now. [ He passes a third locker, his lucky charm last night before finding a fourth, hand going to the lock. He hesitates, looking back at her. ] You may have more questions after this. [ But he yanks anyway, breaking the pad lock easily, the locker swinging open. He pulls out a sleeveless dark blue velvet dress that looks about Elena's size, holding it out to her. ] Table whatever reaction you're having right now, it's your size and it covers your ass.

[abetment]

[ That's the ticket for her to manage a smile. Faint, but still a smile amid the insanity of the place.

Her hopes rise when she finds out he knows the location of these locker rooms, giving him a look edging toward amusement about how this will be like shopping. ] They shouldn't have taken my clothes if they didn't want me to find something here to take, to wear. [ This thievery will also be harmless, in her opinion, and she stands true to her words.

Letting him lead, staying as close as comfort and walking allow, she steps inside the room and lets Damon pass through, watching as he goes. She sticks to right where she entered, having sized up the room, any sun creeping inside. Fortunate that the path they took was safe in that regard, too.

Air passes through her lips in the quietest of laughs over his admission of having previously broken into the first lockers he checks. Her brows knit slightly when he mentions options: guess who hasn't paid attention to the technology there? She blinks when he breaks into it so easily -- remembering you're a vampire and knowing what all a vampire is capable of? two different things. is he a vampire too? or... ] Weak lock? [ The question slips out before she can stop it, stepping forward, head tilting at the dress. ] Uh... [ Said before he finishes with that. Her lips purse down but she reaches to take it from him. ] That is what I've wanted to fix the most, so -- this'll do. For now. [ To which she glances at the closed door before stepping over to the side a bit farther, assuming that Damon's line of sight can alert her to if someone plans on trudging through the door.

She takes a slow breath, giving him a careful look. In reality, there isn't a shred of modesty rolling around in her head. Is there for Elena? She doesn't know, but with affection and tenderness has come a level of comfort that she's not completely sure if Damon will return but, her limbs are shifting to shrug the gown away, dress being slipped on immediately after. Looking down and smoothing her hands down over her the fabric covering stomach once it's on, snug and in place, her lips purse to the side a bit. Then, she looks back to Damon. ] I -- don't trust anyone here but you, right now, Damon. I wanna talk to you first. I can't trust going to the office of a sheriff who steals from people. [ It's true! She may be stalling, slightly, since they're somewhere with almost no sunlight, and that's a win in her book.

She needs to know more. Not risk going outside. ]

[unforgivably]

[ In hindsight, everything Elena has said should point to her not being Elena. Her tone, her edge she hasn't lost, but Damon, too, was on edge when he'd woken up. ]

I think if you're incompetent enough to let all these patients wander around, you should expect the clothes you wore to work to be taken. Why else leave nothing behind? Maybe it's a hospital-wide fetish, seeing us in their clothes. It's like getting in their pants. [ He says that as they walk, leaning his head in, that playful dynamic kicking back in.

Her own explanation leaves little to explain. If she asks, they're in private now. But, this is easier. If she were a vampire, now, then he'd have no choice. But, vampire 101 went so well the first time around. ] Sure. Shoddy locksmanship.

[ He doesn't zero in on her syntax, her choice in words. Another zero for Damon Salvatore.

Modesty does not Damon Salvatore make, or speak, but he knows when to be modest. And, polite. Sure, he'll stand in front of you, bare-assed with not stitch of clothing on because he can. But, Elena isn't herself, and maybe she's comfortable or she just wants to be covered up, but either way, Damon turns around, closes the door behind them and faces it.

Hearing the dress slip over her, when she speaks he looks back, turning around. ]

Whatever you want to talk about. [ They're alone. He does walk back into the room, glancing into the broken locker. Well, the latest broken locker. :') He leans over, pulling out a pair of - ] Black boots? They really pull together your ensemble. Very 90's. [ He holds them out, offering them with a smirk. ] I was barefoot all day. [ And he wouldn't want her to be. If she takes them, he sits on the nearby bench, straddling it, if not, he sets them aside, again, still sitting. ] You and me. We can sit here as long as you want. I will have to tell Stefan, eventually, but it's not like he's going anywhere. That's probably where we should start. None of us can go anywhere.

[abetment]

[ She nearly laughs at that. Good thing she didn't, otherwise a Katherine Pierce giggle would have pierced the air. It does make her smile. ] Are you always this funny? [ Not like she knows the ins and outs of his personality! It seems like a fair question.

She gives another faint nod, all of the nodding, when he answers about the lock. She believes him. Why wouldn't she?

The changing is quick. No time for preoccupation to see if he's watching her, but that he moves and switches position is evident. Looks like she hasn't fallen completely into feeling like Katherine yet, indeed. She moves toward him again when he turns, when she's clothed.

Something she nearly regrets when she sees the boots, making a face of disgust. Careful, Katherine. Elena wouldn't care that much about shoes. When she sees that smirk, it's easy to smile just so. She takes the boots, sitting down too, easy distance between them. Enough so she can lace up those amazing boots, but not far enough away to be apart from him. She wants to stay close.

She sets the boots down, giving them another unsure look, starting to slip them on only when Damon continues. Lips pressing together, she nods. ] You can tell Stefan. I can't even remember [ she pauses, eyes widening ] what he looks like, but I knew the name. And if you trust him, so do I. [ She's confident in that, for some reason. Damon is leaving a good, deep and strong impression! ]

Why can't we go somewhere else? What's stopping us? [ Boots on, she crosses her legs, shifting in a little closer to Damon, pressing that question into him with an intense gaze. She doesn't wonder if they should be talking about this in there or not, rolling with the talking about whatever they want. ]

caroline forbes » the vampire diaries

[coy]

[ It’s a lot to take in, the flurry of sounds and lights. Everything is intense. It feels like a migraine except a hundred times worse. And she swears she can hear the steady beating heart of the nurse who comes in to check on her. Of course, it must be the head trauma, from the accident. Isn’t that how concussions work? You see things? Hear things? Everything feels intense and fuzzy at the same time, it's hard to concentrate?

There was an accident. At least that’s what she was told, that there was an accident, that’s why she’s in the hospital. Her memory’s still fuzzy, she vaguely remembers falling off the ladder, hands reaching out uselessly to try and grasp at it and the hard collision of her body with the ground. Although that doesn't explain why the sickly, sweet smell of blood seems to haunt her every step in this place. Has she always been this sensitive to smell?]

Seriously? [ You might hear her exclaim upon seeing how busy the hospital is. Did everyone decide to get hurt today? What was the deal? The nurses and doctors barely paid attention to her and she saw more than a few dazed patients, like herself, wandering around.

Caroline moves slow, like molasses. And her memories come back just as slowly. I’m Caroline Forbes. My parents are Liz and Bill Forbes from Mystic Falls. But there’s another memory, one that pushes forward almost immediately, one that she tries to convince herself was just a dream, just something that’s the result of the brain trauma. Because it can’t be real, it couldn’t have actually happened.

She looks down at her hands, half expecting there to be blood all over them. Her stomach lurches both at the idea of blood and then again at the hunger it illicits. But Caroline, no matter what she does or doesn’t remember, is the queen of denial. She decides to chalk it all up to the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a while, that she hates hospitals, that everything feels weird. And maybe that she doesn’t have her lucky ring, the one that her brain tells her that she needs to get back on her finger and pronto.

Luckily, by the time she feels comfortable to leave the hospital, the sun’s gone down. However, she’s feeling an ache in her gut and an even worse on in her gums as she wanders down the street. Any normal person would be shivering, walking down the street in nothing but hospital scrubs (she’d managed to compel charm a nurse into giving her some) but she’s not, although she does feel that it’s cold, she isn’t cold, herself.

Instinctively, she starts moving towards the Police Station, she knows where it is because she lives... here? Yeah, this is her home. And she suspects that’s where her things might be. It feels very important to get them before she treks back to her house. Oh right, her house. She knows where that is, right? Yeah, right, it’s on….

Again, on instinct, her arms wrap around her torso because it feels like something she should do as she mutters to herself—]


God, I’m starving.


[ ooc: feel free to have your character approach her in the hospital or on the street.]

[unforgivably]

I like to think so.

[ Others may not. Others wouldn't say he is. He thinks he is. He knows he is. He watches her lace up her boots, waiting for her response. ]

You do. You have. [ Almost always.

He watches as she crosses her legs, unable to hide the raise of one of his eyebrows, briefly, before he keeps the proximity, reminding himself that Elena knows little to nothing. Not what he is, not what Stefan is. Barely who she is. Maybe not even barely. ] Long fence. Big wall. That's the short version. [ He looks up in the corner, and then to the other corner. Cameras. Always cameras. Don't discuss your past. ] Come on.

[ He stands, lifting one leg over the bench, offering a hand before leading her past the lockers into the shower area. Showers. Loud music. Tactics to keep a vampire from hearing what you're saying. Equally useful when trying to keep out prying cameras. ] I'm not asking you to take your clothes off. You just put new ones on. I'm just [ He leans over turning the knob of one shower, and then the next, and the third before leaning back and shaking his wet hand. Turning to Elena, he lets the water cascade down into the drains. ]

We're being watched.

[abetment]

I must too, since I do now. [ She doesn't know if Elena appreciates Damon's style of humor or not. If she's wrong, then it can be blamed on a foggy brain.

Trust. She can't extend it to the mysterious Stefan until she's in the same room as him, but she does believe what Damon has said. So, she nods, pondering for just a second when Stefan will be contacted. She wants to talk to Damon in that moment, only him, so her focus rests there.

Her features tense when he mentions a wall, but they soften when she sees him look around. Naturally, so does she, spotting the cameras. One gets a puzzled flash from her before she looks back to Damon, taking his hand and standing. Since being awake, everything has felt like one big mess of confusion, and when he takes her to the showers? Her feet stop, head shaking faintly. Then he gets more specific, though she gives him a stare-down when he starts. She blinks. ]

Oh. By who? The sheriff? Do you know why? [ There are cameras, so she knows his claim can hold true based on logistics. Furthermore, she's still extending trust that he has a better grasp of what's going on than her. ] There has to be a reason. No one just...watches people. [ Do they? ]

Outside!

[overfivethousand]

[He doesn't really snoop, exactly; his parents taught him better than to listen to peoples' conversations, to keep his head down. But he's got sharp ears, and a good heart, and he was just like that a month ago, wasn't he? So here's a tall, awkwardly skinny teenager wrapped in a warm parka, hands tucked in his pockets.]

I dunno, the hospital gets a little crazy. When I woke up there, they told me the deputies were checking my stuff for evidence. I know where it is--do you want me to walk you there?

[unforgivably]

You - [ He smiles to himself. ] For the most part, when my humor isn't ... poorly timed. [ Which it can be. ] But, you think I have my moments and that in general, I am just amazing. Not the lost cause I frequently think I am. [ Her hand in his, he slows down, bringing it to his lips. Oops. This is too easy, falling back into this. ] You believe in me, Elena Gilbert.

[ Oh, and here the locker room is.

Catching up now, nobody is removing any clothing. His hand comes up, palm facing her. It's OK, Elena. ]

Beats us. The Sheriff is involved. You'll meet him. Smiley guy, but you don't want to cross him. Not that I know firsthand, he just gives off that vibe. There are signs. [ Literally. ] Rules we follow. [ His hand comes up, one finger illustrating each rule. ] Do not try to leave. Do not discuss the past. Do not discuss your life before. Always answer the phone if it rings. [ His hand forms a fist then. ] Work hard, be happy. [ His fist opens, palm flattening. ] You're going to start to think you belong here. I don't know how they're doing it, if it's our minds, some days I think nothing here is real, like it's all an elaborate distraction from -- [ Too much again. ] Elena, we're from Mystic Falls but we have lives here. Stefan and I own a garage. You'll regain your memory. But, with it you're going to remember other things, memories from this town.