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This is the web, web that you weave
Who: Katherine Pierce + you; Damon Salvatore
Where: Her home, French's General Store, S&D Automotive, Britches and Hose, Weaver's Bar
When: March 14, all day
What: Guess who has their memories back?
Warnings: Some violence. Will update as needed, otherwise.
You were different from my last but now you got it mirrored
OPEN. Main Street. French's General Store.
And as it all plays out I see it couldn't be clearer
For Damon. S&D Automotive.
Now sing
OPEN. Main Street. Britches and Hose. Weaver's Bar.
Where: Her home, French's General Store, S&D Automotive, Britches and Hose, Weaver's Bar
When: March 14, all day
What: Guess who has their memories back?
Warnings: Some violence. Will update as needed, otherwise.
You were different from my last but now you got it mirrored
OPEN. Main Street. French's General Store.
[ The morning sun is shining over their just lovely backwater town as Katherine pads through the house. The one she shares with two souls who have mutually accepted along with her (maybe grudgingly), that there's so much more to who she is, to her story, than they've exposed. Because, she'll get her memories back. Sooner rather than later, as the days go on. Color her impatient with each passing day.
It happens as she's pulling a bloodbag out, the chilled item falling from her fingers and snugly back in with the others. There's a torrent of information that sweeps over her, fog lifting, reality settling in, and the ache of a life always on the run coating back over her mind. She wanted this back, her life, and now that she has it? She wants to tie the person who ever cut it off from her up by their ankles to watch them bleed out.
Okay. She needs to gather herself, her resolve. First things first: appearances. There's...nothing in the house, other than a few containers of makeup, that she wants. Needs. Slipping into an outfit she's acquired (denim, what the hell), including jeans with a snug fit and lower waistline than most of the atrocities she's seen lately. She snatches up the camisole that's she now remembers using to impersonate Elena, sliding it on and starting outside. Those ankle boots, also Elena-y, get put on too.
She strides down the street, a girl on a mission, the spaghetti straps out of place in winter weather but whatever. There are more important matters to attend to than a breezy walk, so she speeds up to vampire speed to make her way to the town center, stopping out of sight of anyone and casually walking out of an alley.
Popping into the general store, she searches for a beauty section. As if they'll -- oh, there actually is one. Maybe this town won't be as horrendous as it could be. She spies a human shopping in the area and compels them into buying the items she wants. As a gift for her: it is her birthday, after all (it's absolutely not), and the people in this town have wanted to be oh-so welcoming. A curling iron. Lipstick. Products for her hair. A manicure kit (are the people here barbarians, not providing someone with the basic necessities she needs?)
Items in tow, she stops by a clothing store. With the world's least appealing selection. She manages, compelling the shop-hand into thinking how well the outfit suits her, how it was meant for her closet. She heads back to the house in that. Where, the infamous Katherine Pierce comes together, best she can in Wayward Pines. ]
And as it all plays out I see it couldn't be clearer
For Damon. S&D Automotive.
[ There is no game she's intending to play with Damon as she steps into the garage. They both know that Stefan's her favorite to play games with, anyway. Damon, he's always been the more creative ally to have. Plus, there's a hurdle they need to get over here. She's sure his heart is oh-so shattered after mistaking her for Elena (looks like Elena finally made the switch that Katherine could see coming from a mile away; though, how long it'll last, that's another story...that won't play out there -- she hopes Elena Gilbert never actually shows up.) Her ego's getting in the way with how she's presenting herself, putting herself out there for him to be testy over. Again, might as well go in strong and take it as it comes. She doesn't actually need to do this: interrupt his work day. Yet, selfish.
Maybe he'll be relieved that she's back? No more weird Elena-ness. No more attempted soft touches to bridge a gap between them that she can't believe anyone ever made her forget. What's wrong with the people in charge around here? She's back to Katherine. If her being regarded as a psychotic bitch makes for better relations overall, that's a plus in her book. This way, they can stop pretending that Damon doesn't constantly want to rip out her jugular, too.
She's acquired black heels (not the best ones, but they'll do): a chunkier heel than stiletto, but not awful enough that she looks like a goth wannabe reject. They click across the cement floor, legs long and clad in black pants (the closest fit to her own style that the '90s clothing there allows), a dark purple crushed velvet sleeveless top on, generous with the cleavage. Her makeup is done to a tee, that obnoxious pink she came in with her makeup bag set aside for a red bought by their friendly neighborhood friend. Most importantly, her hair is curled, divinely. She thinks she's really outdone herself, toying with the daylight bracelet over her wrist when as she comes up to find Damon working on a car. ] So industrious. You always were, when you put your mind to it. [ There can't be any doubt that her memories are back, not with that confidence in her tone, throaty voice having fully returned. When he first meets her eyes, her brows pop and she adds -- ] Hey roomie. You'll never guess what happened while you were out. [ A smirk, a giggle.
Yep. She sure is back. ]
Now sing
OPEN. Main Street. Britches and Hose. Weaver's Bar.
[ She's scoped out the lay of the land, its residents (both natural and those forcibly immigrated in), in the first two weeks. Yet, Katherine couldn't seek out the sorts of people, of information, that she finds herself drawn to. There was no allure brought out by her full personality, but with her memories back...she's on the hunt for interesting people.
Things go about as she expected them to a la Salvatores. Reality bites sometimes, what can she say? They're stuck there together though, and she knows that both of them simply must have allies around. She's not stalking after either brother that day (she's not stupid.) It's the first day she's reaching out to anyone that doesn't reside under the roof of where she calls home.
Daylight hours still, she finds herself in a lingerie store. Interesting. For all the sexually repressed soccer moms of the '90s, she wonders? She goes along the aisles, a presence about her that says why yes she's interested in speaking to you, if you're in there too. Holding out a black teddy, her head tilts, curls tumbling down over her shoulders as she hums -- does she want it? ...Maybe.
With the fall of night, she finds a bar, and there's only one thing to do at a bar: compel free drinks out of the bartender (who knows if she can, depending on who's working), get people to buy her drinks and/or flirt. All of the above sounds lovely to her, the infectious giggle she has carrying out when she gets her first drink. There is a 100% chance she'll approach you, fellow patron or staff member. Bars are great for meeting people, everyone knows that.
Now Sing
He's in helping Malia out for the night. It's been twelve hours on his feet at this point, but it's better here than the empty house. As the sole owner of Weaver's the kid couldn't exactly tell him off.
Of course, this does fuck and all for his already meager customers service skills. ]
What d' you want? [ he grumbles, not bothering to turn to see who'd just sat down. ]
no subject
My first drinks at this lovely place you have? [ A smile, even if he can't yet see it: she's icing on the jovial tone, waiting for him to turn. ] Which I'd like to start with bourbon. Neat. Whatever you got that's your version of top-shelf?
no subject
[ Top of the shelf's pretty drab at the moment. A couple steps up from generic, but then he still needs to sort out just what the hell the Mayor was willing to tolerate being exported here.
It's not like he can leave and actually scout the damn places around them for suppliers.
He plucks the bottle off of it's spot before finally turning to face the woman, grabbing a cup off the rack. ]
Ice? No ice?
no subject
Oh...well, he's not human (obviously) so maybe he doesn't realize that she answered that already. ] None, like I said? [ Her brows lift, almost considering a 'please.' To keep up appearances.
As he turns again, she has to ask -- ] So, any family in town? [ Chatting up the bartender, it's totally normal. Plus, she wants to know if there are other aliens around or what. ]
no subject
((Sorry dude.))
Either way, he fixes the drink up for her with minimum fuss and pretty much none of his usual showmanship. Not that anyone really got much showmanship from him to begin with, but he's solidly in the 'surly' end of customer servicing right now. ]
Not a one,[ he says flatly, setting the glass down in front of her. ] Only Turian in town. You usually this nosy 'bout people's families?
no subject
Thankfully, Katherine may act a little less than polite sometimes, but she also doesn't care about customer service. Although, she is pondering if the act of mind compulsion works on, well, whatever he is. Oh. A Turian. Either way, a passing thought.
She takes the drink in hand, starting to bring it up to sip from before he continues, setting the glass back down. Her brows lift. ] A lot of the time, actually. What's life if you don't ask people questions? I do. Have family in town, for the record. Turian, huh? Interesting. [ A long sip. ] Must've immigrated in, then. Not that I'm asking about that. Town notices and all. [ ... do you think he cares about continuing to engage in conversation, Katherine? Apparently...so? ]
no subject
As for mind compulsion? Well, he's not really looking at her at the moment, wrapped up as he is. ]
I was here since I was a kid.
[ There an odd defensiveness about the way he says it. ]
So, family? How many others of you lot do I need to watch out for?
[ That way he knows not to be surprised by the next nosy, fur-headed weirdo who comes in and starts throwing out wild speculations on his background. ]
no subject
[ Her head gives a little shake, watching him closely as she sips. What a past time, bugging bartenders. ] Just the three of us. Our little family. [ A hum. ] I guess our paths just never crossed then. [ Not incredibly likely, if they've both been in town as long as their false memories seem to be telling them, but she smirks over her own vagueness. ]
So, Turians have names, right? [ Wow, she's being rude that day. Whatever happened to trying to get along with people, Katherine? Maybe his mood is spilling over onto her. ]
no subject
The fact that she looked so innocuous was worse. Made it more difficult to put his claw on exactly what was off. ]
... Lantar, [ he answers warily, plucking coins and bills off of the countertop to sort through them. ] Bar's only been open for a bit over a month. We were probably in different crowds before that.
[ The thing is? She knows and he knows that if he'd been the only Turian in town for that length of time then everyone here would know him, regardless of social circles. ]
This the Damon from the autoshop, right?
[ There wasn't any other 'Damon' that he knew about. The proximity was unfortunate though. ]