pineslog | (catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

(catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

CATCH-ALL: 16TH & 17TH

march 16

THE THUNDER ROLLS

The day starts off atmospherically heavy. The clouds are low, and the temperature is unusually warm, settling in the mid to high 50s (teens in Celsius). Townies are wandering around town in lightweight jackets and hoodies making small talk about the unusual weather, but for the most part they're pleased with the warmth, even if the clouds off in the distance look rather ominous. As the day goes on, the clouds creep closer and the residents seem more inclined to get a roof over their heads and stay there. The midmorning news predicts heavy rainfall by the late afternoon, but the savvier townsfolk say it’s going to be worse than that.

They’re not wrong. The sun drops low, and the winds start to pick up, howling through the trees, bringing with them nickel-size chunks of hail and torrential rains. The darker the night gets, the worse the storm hits Wayward Pines; by the time the sun has set, the sky is obscured with opaque, swirling clouds, the winds snapping trees in half, rattling the power lines, causing electricity to flicker and sometimes go out. The hail pings against the cars not safely parked inside garages, leaving the more exposed with significant damage to paint and windows, and anyone brave (or stupid) enough to step outside is instantly soaked to the skin in cold rain.

The most chilling thing of all isn’t the rain. Anyone trying to wait the weather out on Main Street will hear three wrenching cries coming from the woods, almost like the exact moment a person shreds their vocal cords in a scream. The townies claim not to hear anything unusual. It’s just the wind, they say, and they may be right. The sound as it shrieks through the trees and between buildings is similar enough to cast doubt, and combined with the rain even the most experienced camper would likely get lost trying to find it.

march 17

THERE’S WHISKEY IN THE JAR, OH

Whatever damage was caused by the previous night’s storm has mostly been cleared from Main Street by the early morning of St Patrick's Day. The streets are still a little wet, with plenty of puddles for the more adventurous children (and adults) to splash around in. The air is still a little chilly, but nothing a sweatshirt can’t fix. Nothing’s fully set up until about nine in the morning, but when it is, the St. Patty’s Day celebration gets under way. It’s small, more of a farmers' market or small festival than anything major. There’s food stalls and tables for eating, as well as a few booths where townsfolk are plying their crafts and non-food wares, as well as live music. The festivities during the daylight hours are pretty tame, a PG-rated good time for all.

When the sun sets, the party gets a little more rowdy. Someone busts out the booze and someone else busts out the Mardi Gras beads, and the music gets louder. While many food stalls are still open, the rest have shut down as the street fills with revelers, many of them holding cups half-filled with beer or something a little stronger. This part of the party isn’t for kids, and if anyone underage is spotted they'll quickly get escorted back home by the police — so try not to get caught, yes?

MOD NOTES

This is a catch-all for any and all threads pertaining to the storm (March 16th) and the St. Patrick's Day festival (March 17th)! Details on both of these happenings can be found in the March Newsletter.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, which Day(s) your top-level takes place in, and Open or Closed, to help keep things a bit more organized. (For example: "Joe Biden | 16th & 17th | Open!")

Should you choose to participate in both mini-events, you're welcome to make separate top-level posts for each day or to combine them both into one.

If you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask them here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ A quick nod.

She eats, enjoying the food, as he speaks -- what else is she gonna do with all this food? Sandwich half-eaten, she lowers it back to its plate, staring at him for a moment. Processing. Thinking. Analyzing. Oh. ] It's gross. I hate it. I feel like I can't do anything. Except in the woods, but that place smells like it has its own sort of tragic the further you walk out. [ She has enough sense to stop and return when certain smells permeate around her. Her judgment hasn't always been like that, but she doesn't have the whole pack there to back her up. No Scott. Liam. No one who's stronger, even if she thinks Lydia has more strength than she regularly employs; banshee strength still isn't the same as were strength. ]

You've been anywhere else that was like here? Seriously? [ A nibble. ] Where you had more freedom. And I bet your friends didn't keep getting put in the...hospital. [ She frowns. ] Actually, that happens kind of a lot where I was...from. [ They're not talking details, and vague words can't get them into too much trouble, can they? ]

I haven't made it out there. The local yokels don't speak highly of the woods. [ Which should be why he goes out there, eventually. They all need to know just what down they've been dropped in, a town with a closed circuit system, complete strangers and memories that crop up out of nowhere.

He silently chastises her with his eyes, a question about their lives before. Careful, Malia. But, he can play a game of double entendre. With less dirty implications. Please, she's eighteen. Also a joke, yes, but she isn't Elena. ]

I grew up in a quaint small town, a town very into its own history. There were weekly events, just like this, although the ones I remember were more all out and less, after thought, but, what can you do after a freak hail storm? [ The wind kicks up only slightly, further illuminating their ominous conversation. But, yes, Malia. He grew up in a town much like this town. Smaller, though. Not that he can tell her that. He does make a note to try something with her at a later date. Werewolves are usually impervious to their mind tricks, he wonders if that's true of her. After all, her rules don't match up. ] The hospital's a part of life. Friends. Frenemies. Everyone ends up there at some point.

[ Sometimes to die, usually not for them.

Liz did die. ]

Edited 2017-03-17 15:44 (UTC)

They've got good reasons not to. [ In that, Malia is confident, although she's not openly giving examples without being prompted. Nor does she have much in the way of solid evidence to provide. ] You wanna go sometime? Least, to a certain point. [ He doesn't know her well enough to be aware that when she backs off from a threat, it's as alarming as it is serious. Malia doesn't exactly back down easily.

She starts in for another bite with the look she catches, shoulders twitching in a small shrug. ]

This, apparently. [ Another bite, glance around them with the wind. Freaky. A cant of her head. ] Frenemies? [ Not that he needs to clarify: she gets what it means. ] And, everyone? Really? You have that happen a couple weeks ago, too? [ And some change, but maybe he has.

She's stuck on the idea of people actually arriving there, too, missing that he's safely (so it seems) suggesting that everyone, most people, find their way to a hospital over the course of life they're able to remember. Babies generally go to hospitals, but they're not talking about children. Thankfully. ]

[ The screams he's heard before probably have something to do with it, right? ] Maybe. [ It's not a no, and it's more of a yes, but Damon's hardly ever agreeable. They'll go, just not today. ]

Not quite friends, sometimes enemies. Frenemies. [ They work together when they need to, they send them to hell when they have to. Or, they did. Or, they haven't. Tenses. ] I don't mean this hospital. Any hospital. People get hurt, they get injured, they have twins, they end up in the hospital. [ All vague notions form where he came from, it doesn't count as breaking the rules! ]

The frequency of accidents in this hospital is bizarre.

[ It's better than hearing an outright no. Malia isn't a 'maybe always means no' sort of teenager (...kid), either. She takes the word at face value, giving a quick nod. ]

So people you can't trust. [ She proclaims, poking at the funnel cake, licking powered sugar off her finger before ripping into it to take a bite. ] Oh. I thought that's what we were talking about. This hospital. [ Duh, Malia. A glance in the proper direction of where their fave place is.

A longer nod and sigh before she gives a little nod to the plate the funnel cake is on, pushing it a bit toward him, indicating she'll totes share (see, she paid attention in kindergarten.) ] Yeah. One of my best friends, not Stiles. Or Allison. She, Lydia, got in one. It was weird hearing about, maybe 'cause we...stopped hanging out together so much lately? [ Look here, she's trying to paint you a story full of allusion with indirect statements!! A shame, since she's not good at subtlety. ] I dunno. But, I guess the town just...really likes my group of friends or something. [ She's not impressed. ] Any more of your friends, frenemies, fall on hard times, physically, lately? [ Story time, unless you're just not up for sharing, Damon. ]

Keep your friends close, Malia. [ And your enemies closer. In some cases. Not in the case of Katherine 2.0. (This is Katherine 3.0. Human Katherine is Katherine 5.0. ] We were. Gifted nursing staff. [ Gag him.

Ngh. But, he'll let go of his cup he'd been holding to pull off a piece of funnel cake and eat it. ]

One. [ He holds his left hand up, the ring gleaming, light reflecting off the bits of sun that are peeking through. ] I have a wife.

I do. [ In that, she has no doubts. She went through a period where she pushed everyone away and, well, it worked out in the end but she wouldn't want a repeat of that. She gained one of her most hated enemies, Theo, during her time of separating herself from the pack, after all. Her lips press together: she's right there with you, Damon, about the hospital staff. ] Yeah...

[ She has a lot of food there and prefers the savory over the sweet, so there's more than enough of the cake for the both of them! He gets a tiny smile when he takes a piece.

Her head tilts when he begins to show her his hand, a ring, eyes widening and face holding in shock as she blinks several times. ] Um. Like. You realized you were married, what, after she...was in the accident? [ After she showed up there? Why can't they just use their words? Why is this so annoying? Ugh. Her sentence sounds stupid and makes no sense, and anyone could see through it: but she's not actually breaking a rule! ] Because that would be...super weird to have thrown at you. [ Because that's what happened, isn't it? What he's implying? ]

Eventually. There was the ill-timed post-prom argument, I found the ring after that, and Katherine had found hers in the mean time. Then, when we compared notes, we shared a memory of me proposing outside of the school.

[ The disdain with this one. The way they have to talk gets old, doesn't it, Malia? ]

So, maybe you have an engagement to look forward to. Or a secret boyfriend. Maybe girlfriend?

[ Katherine. She hasn't met her, but makes note of he name.

Skirting around everything they really mean goes against who Malia inherently is, or how she feels comfortable speaking, anyway. She makes a face, frowning. ] You...shared? A memory? [ Sounds weird. She doesn't like it. ] Literally or out loud? [ She's not misunderstanding his phrasing, is she? Does her phrasing make any sense? ]

The only actual boyfriend I've ever had is here, but doesn't remember being my boyfriend because he doesn't remember everything that I do. [ It's the truth, and it's not specific. She rolls her eyes, fingernails tapping on the picnic table. ] So maybe, but probably not. Hopefully not. I don't wanna wake up one morning and start feeling anything like that for someone who I never did before. [ Gross, as the look of disgust on her face says. ]

Less literal. [ As he did share memories with her, but not that one, and he isn't about to discuss the compassion he showed her after she'd regained all that she lost. ] I remembered it and she remembered it. We were, [ He waves a hand. ] Taken back to that fateful day. [ When memories are real and that happens.

That catches him. ]

Go back. Your boyfriend remembers things differently than you? Differently how?

[ She works to absorb, and these words? Make sense. Because they're true, even if she doesn't know it entirely: isn't it nice when they can say what actually happened, mostly? Still, the town's big on never letting anyone experience the full story as they know it to be. ] So she's...your wife. Congrats, I guess? [ Hahahahaha ]

Yeah. He's forgetting, like, a year? Or more. Plus he's had a lot of...dreams [ her brows lift high; this is true, but she can't say aloud that there are memories of some other place than only Beacon Hills, because that's the past ] he has about this place that it's like, almost like he lived there too [ careful; it's a small word, but it more than implicates ] before waking up here.

He doesn't talk about it a lot. I hear him wake up from nightmares, sometimes. But, he just...I remember everything about how he and I met, and he doesn't remember any of when I turned back to human. [ ...um. She blinks once. ] I mean, once I started to feel like... [ scoff; she leans over, looking into his eyes, voice dropping super low ] actually. No, that's what I meant. [ It's a fact, and anyone who wants to dispute her history and remembering being a coyote for years can go right ahead and try. She can't think of a fib for that.

She shifts back. ] But it's okay. I know most people would say he'll probably just...remember. Or, that I'm remembering things wrong. Head trauma, and its lasting effects. [ A repetition from someone else, maybe Damon said it before, that she's heard time and again from multiple people since being there. ]

[ His hands come up, what can you do?

He listens, knowing full well that with Katherine being from an earlier part of his history, her boyfriend might be too. But, there's no metaphor that will get them there. He waits until she's finished (the girl can talk), before recognition passes across his features. ]

Do you remember the first day we met I promised you nothing? No real information, no Nosferatu FAQ? [ Can the Q and A and all that? ] How'd you like your first 101?

[ This is what happens when she has to weave tales: she gets wordy!

Oh! Wow, he actually might get it. She sees that flare of what might be awareness, that the idea of what she's trying to get across might be sinking in.

This isn't a line of questioning she expects, and her brow furrows with it, though Malia is amiable to the idea. Why wouldn't she be? She nods as he goes until her features smooth. ] 'Course I remember. And? Since you're offering, yeah, I'm not gonna turn that down. But -- [ her lips press in, next word whispered. ] Where? [ They're not supposed to talk about such things, are they? ]

[ Where, indeed. ]

Your place, my place. That real estate office. We're not hurting for private venues. You pick. I promise it won't matter in the end where we actually are.

[ A hint ~ ]

[ It's good that she asked, isn't it? Instead of spouting off questions before he starts in? Which isn't how a 101 tends to go: there's time for Q and A after the lecture. ]

Fine. [ No tone or flippant attitude. ] Mine. Everyone's out for the day. [ She's just gonna...carry this extra sandwich with her as they go. She's shifting, ready to stand. ] You ready now? [ Unless his words were code for not actually walking the whole way there (she doesn't really know, okay?) and finding any secluded spot somewhere, then she'll eat the sandwich as they go and make small talk. Malia isn't high maintenance with the talking, believe it or not, no matter how demanding her tones can get.

The house is technically a three-bedroom, although four of them are staying there now. It's...a house in Wayward Pines. Nothing extraordinary. ]

Now was the plan, yes.

[ For all Malia gets in the moment, and as intelligent and aware as she can be, she can be awfully thick. But, that one ridiculing moment aside, he climbs off of the picnic bench and weaves through people back to the residential part of town. He wanted to stay closer, but, that just means he'll return soon enough. It's not as if he could get lost here.

Her house leaves him with no new memory which is a welcome surprise. ] Your room. Just in case.

[ The distance any of them can trek is only so far.

She nods over at him, bringing a key out of her pocket and unlocking the front door, stepping inside. ] Okay. Come in, it's -- [ stopping to slip her shoes off only because that's respectful for her friends or whatever ] this way. [ She doesn't care if you take your shoes off, Damon. She's not the clean police. She leads to her room where there's just as few belongings as one might expect, looking back to make sure he closes the door. Her bed is made, messily but made (it's a good start to your day, making your bed, Malia Lydia has told her.) She stands, looking over to Damon, arms loosely crossing. ]

Okay. [ There has to be more than simple discussion, since with a glance at a camera, there's that reminder of how watched they always are. The creepiness. ]

[ Damon stops, rolls his eyes and leans down, untying his shoes before pulling one and then the other off. He will not scoff nice 90's Italian, even if it's 90's. He follows her back to her room, stepping inside and letting her close the door. ]

You know what, I'm tired, mind if we take a nap while we're here? [ And if he isn't just making himself at home, heading over to the bed and climbing up, before moving onto his back, propping a pillow behind him. He holds out his left arm. In the past he's done it conspicuously with his and Caroline's close call on the porch and Jiaying and his literal sit down (what do the cameras think, anyway?) as it is, naps are the least conspicuous. ] You can trust me. I won't do anything unsavory. [ And then ] Follow-up request. Do you have a favorite place. Generic. Mall, beach, pizza place. A place that brings you comfort, think of that place.

[ Her face twists in wondering, but Malia can tell he's acting off. Putting on an actual act? Oh. Okay. As he moves, she stares over. ] Now that you mention it... [ she starts over, sitting down beside him him before moving another pillow to lay her head on as she shifts to be on her side, facing him, looking over. To an outsider who's seen them both on cameras, out in the real world, it may be out of character. Whatever. ] I am kinda tired. [ She sighs softly. ] I let you come in my house. I already trust you.

[ With his request, she starts to nod, trying to think of somewhere. ] Generic. [ That's not so easy, but... ] I like pizza. That works. [ Far more specific places bring her actual comfort, but that's not how this apparently works. ]

[ Damon keeps her eye contact, his hand coming in to graze her shoulder. He waits for Malia to close her eyes, and lets his own eyes fall shut.

Welcome to SBARRO, a staple of tourism in New York, specifically SBARRO in the 1990's. He spent some time in the Grunge 90's in New York and he's getting creative with his mind-sharing, lately. He took Jiaying to the beach, technically without asking, so he gave Malia the choice.

Anyway, Damon's decked out in his 90's grunge best, leather jacket, white t with an anarchy symbol, jeans and hair longer than Malia remembers, gelled and greasy. He's done a number on Malia who's hair has acquired black streaks, and more body, curled in longer layered waves. Anyway, they're waiting in line behind a few couples and in front of a family of five. ]

[ If they're gonna take a 'nap' well, she shuts her eyes.

When they open, she glances around, reaching out in front of herself with one hand as if the air might hold some quality that she can actually grasp. ] Wow. [ Turning her head, she realizes there's a weight to her hair that's never been there, all while really taking in what Damon's wearing. It's one of the most wild moments of her life, and that's coming from a werecoyote with a super traumatic past! She nods ahead. ] Long line.

[ A long beat, that hair moving ever so slightly as she looks around them again. ] This is...really amazing. You can do this because you're a vampire? [ They're in some secret place, where they can freely speak, she knows that. ] Is it like...my mind? Yours?

I spent some time in New York in the early 90's. Height of the grunge scene. I think I wore it well. [ Did I mention the eye liner? ]

Quite the tourist trap. We're right off of Times Square. [ Everything is deep reds and black chairs, a vintage menu and carb-loaded goodness. ] Stefan would say Chicago pizza is superior, but he doesn't know what he's talking about.

[ he's smiling, though. He's really never appreciated what he can do like this, not until ending up here. ] Mine in yours. Technically, it's dream sharing, manipulation, you see what I want you to see. But, older vampires who've honed their skills can do it without touching someone, and without them sleeping. [ Like Damon. ] But, like anything else, it needs practice. [ The line moves up, Damon taking a few steps forward. ]

This is how we speak openly here. And not just in code, confuse the average yokel openly. [ A little kid tugs at Damon's pant leg and he looks down. The mother with the big hair apologizes and Damon shakes his head. ] It's no problem. May I? [ Yep, Damon's picking up a small toddler. ] Malia, the line's moving.

[ Walk, girl. ]

Your boyfriend you mentioned, the one that doesn't remember being your boyfriend. That's because he hasn't been your boyfriend. Not yet.

[ Malia doesn't care about anyone's fashion choices, cosmetics included. If you asked her, she might even say she's pretty certain she's seen boys wear makeup before: it's not a big deal, Damon, but it does look a little overdone. Not that...she'd realize that. Moving on.

She nods in agreement. ] You look nice. [ It's not a lie, but do you really want an awkward werecoyote being the judge of what looks nice on you, Damon?

She's listening, absorbing, taking in the smells of the restaurant's choices with a content smile: she really likes food, as he may know now after this day. Does pizza eaten in the subconscious taste as good as the kind in real life?

He clarifies, and she holds onto each word. Frozen in spot over the details he provides. It's true, she hasn't moved and her eyes widen over the presence of this random kid. How they're suddenly being picked up by someone who, well, doesn't seem like he would care one way or the other about kids.

Okay, she moves, finally, coming up beside him. One corner of her mouth twists up, brows knitting as she peers over at him in firm doubt. ] Yes he has. Unless...you mean for him, don't you?

Well. He lived in some other place too. So did Allison. I dunno, none of what they've told me about it makes any sense. All I really know for sure is what he knows from before, when he was still in Beacon Hills, and...I guess you're right.

So, what? People come here from completely different days? Months? Years? [ A sigh -- is the mind trip the only vampire 101 she's getting? Either way, she's distracted by this part of the conversation now. ] Is that what it was like for you and Stefan? Katherine?

[ She gets a nod, an acknowledgment. He looks over the top, but he does pull it off.

Damon deposits the random child (rude, Malia, his name is Chester) onto the counter before taking their number and leading her through the restaurant. It's a fantasy, orders don't need to be taken. As he leads the way, he listens. ] What do you mean he lived in some other place? He didn't meet you and he moved somewhere else before he did?

[ He heads up the stairs now, past two very beautiful models who you'd think wouldn't be in an establishment like this, giving them a nod and a smile. Even a raise of the eyebrow. ]

Stefan, no. He and I remember all the same things. It's why we may not be as close as everyone thinks we are. I messed up - before coming here. [ He takes a seat at one of the empty two seat tables overlooking the restaurant. ] Had a real, self-sacrificing woe is me moment and Stefan stepped in. Like he usually does. He always takes the bullet for his big brother. But, I'm getting carried away. Katherine. It turns out Katherine is from years before us, confirmed only by the clothing she was given when she arrived. Well, when she went to the perving sheriff. So, I can't speak for wherever else your boyfriend and your friend lived, but, whatever her remembers of you, it's what happened. To him.

[ And their pie arrives. Meat lovers. ]

Edited 2017-03-21 02:35 (UTC)

[ Are you sure, Damon?: she needs her food! Which...isn't really why they're there. ]

Like, they both talk about this...space ship, station, they lived on. If Allison didn't have the same story, I'd of thought Stiles was being an idiot and trying to play out a long running joke. [ Before she realized he had nightmares, more than she's ever recalled him to regularly have. They all have pasts, and the frailty of the human psyche is pretty prevalent to her, those days. ] So, yeah, I guess.

[She's following him, really taking in more of the scope of this 90s establishment. There's a lot of weird differences -- what were they thinking back then? That people couldn't go out to eat without being bombarded with decor equally as tacky as the layout of the place? Not that the decade's that far back, even for her, but it's...something else. Everything strikes her as too busy; meanwhile, she has no idea how much worse it could actually get. She barely sees the models. ]

I guess he's just from this really weird kind of point of, time, or whatever you could call it. [ More listening, because she cares about Damon's answers. They sit, and her focus does draw away a couple of times from instinct, sounds and sights to observe. ] You and Stefan have been on the same page, then. [ Hello pizza. YUM. ] That's really good. You're...I only know what you've told me, but it's probably good you're both here, then. [ If Damon needs that saving.

For any interested parties, yes, pizza in this type of space in time does taste delicious. Or, maybe she just knows what it's supposed to taste like. It's her favorite kind, after all. Hm...that's...interesting: did he just, like, guess? ] I kinda wish he'd remember more. But, not everything. Things got...complicated. [ She shrugs, looking down, taking another bite. ] There's a lot I'm glad no one else knows. [ It's selfish to not want Lydia to remember certain things too, isn't it? Sheesh. ]

(catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

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