allison argent doesn't remember. (memory) wrote in blackpoint, @ 2014-08-10 22:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | allison argent (memory!au) |
who Memory!Allison Argent (and implied Scott McCall)
what Scott brings pizza over and has to stay through the storm, and they have a really good day followed by a really, really bad morning in terms of Allison's memories. A little narrative to put the moment into play beyond just OOC talk, because I like writing and that's how I roll.
where Papa Argent and Allison's place, the living room.
when Saturday night into Sunday morning.
rating Nothing bad!
The prospect of hurricanes was really unsettling in theory, of course, but Allison didn’t recall enough about them to even have an educated idea of what to expect. She’d done some research on the internet, just because it was so present in conversation around Hawaii, and the videos she’d found on Youtube were really unnerving. The fact that these were the first to hit the island in so long worried her even more, but she was putting on a brave face.
Scott had come over with pizza, and that had proven to be an excellent distraction for the mounting storm outside. He couldn’t have gone home anyway, not safely, but Allison enjoyed spending the time with him. Now that she’d had a few days to get her mind settled more into the idea of focusing on the present and future rather than thinking so hard about the past, she found herself so curious about these people she was supposed to know. She wasn’t trying to recall their history together, not as much as she had been, and that made it so much easier to spend time around them. Those sad faces still made her heart hurt and made her feel overwhelmed, but it was getting a little easier. Some days still were better than others, of course, but she felt more settled more often.
She was fascinated by Scott and Lydia and Stiles and all of the others she was meant to know. She was still too overwhelmed to deal with the versions of her who shared her face, but she was working on it. She was just focusing on the ones who came to her more often, which had mostly been the Scott from her world and an assortment of Lydias.
She and Scott spent hours together during the afternoon and evening, talking and playing cards and largely not being serious. She asked him a few easy questions along the way about little things, but mostly tried to give her mind a break by not going overboard with anything. She needed the chance to relax, and he was really very calming to her for some reason. Deep down, there were moments where Allison did know. She knew that there was something in their past that made her feel so connected to him. The thought was never strong enough to be on the forefront of her mind, though, and she didn’t know enough to say for certain what it was, but it was there.
They stayed up late, both because of the activities and because of the storm outside, and crashed in the living room. Allison ended up curled up on the sofa, and she slept very soundly and peacefully.
There was a specific routine that accompanied Allison’s mornings now. She would wake up in her bedroom and, before the panic could truly set in, she’d be faced with her notebook propped up at her side on the table that would explain everything she needed to know to put herself at ease. It was so exceptionally hard to wake up without any concept of who she was or where she was, but her notebook could kickstart her thoughts and get her in the right direction. Her father could step in then and help along the way, too.
When she roused to consciousness on Sunday morning, though, she wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t in her bedroom. There was no table at her side, and no notebook propped up on it. Instead, she awoke in a strange room. In those first few moments, she stared silently at the ceiling, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that she could hear the blood pumping through her ears. She felt fear filling her, the overwhelming sensation of being lost filtering into her entire body as she laid there. Tears sprang into her eyes, her hands clenching at her side, and she looked around wildly, trying to find something that would help, something that could give her some idea of who she was, where she was, and why she was there.
Her shaky breath caught in her throat and she sat up, running a trembling hand through her hair, as she looked around more. She wanted to call for help, but didn’t know who to call. She drew her hand to her forehead, her brain’s search for information giving her an aching feeling and nothing useful to go on. It was too much. It was all too much and she didn’t know what to do. The tears fell from her eyes without restraint, and she looked around the room for a hint.
It was at this moment that her eyes fell on another form, completely jumpy and utterly shocked, she let out a terrified scream.