InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "yikes!"

salvatorescrow (salvatorescrow) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-01-01 19:30:00

Entry tags:

damon salvatore, shannon rutherford

Who: Damon Salvatore and Shannon Rutherford
What: Damon is the Lawrence welcome committee, trying to get Shannon to the complex
Where: an internet cafe in Lawrence
When: Sunday, New Year’s Day, early evening
Status: Incomplete

Yes, Damon had been a little bit reclusive as of late, but that didn’t mean that he no longer knew the lay of the land. He was pretty sure of the newly displaced girl’s location judging by the mention of the Starbucks and the internet cafe, or he at least hoped he was sure. Roaming the streets was a tedious task and he wasn’t really fond of doing boring things. There was something in him that always felt restless. It was a trait he’d had deeply embedded in his soul for a very long time.

Soon he was out the door and on the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. Damon had been in Lawrence for a while, but still missed the warmth of Mystic Falls. If this was Mystic Falls all he would have to do would be to text message Liz Forbes and then welcoming the new stranger would have been her responsibility and not Damon’s. Still, it couldn’t hurt him to be a little bit helpful. Maybe Lexi would have wanted to kill him slightly less for it.

He was getting close to the internet cafe. It wasn’t as if he walked the streets every single day like the working people of Lawrence did on their commutes to work, but he knew enough. Turning a corner, he peered into a long glass window and spied a head of blonde hair he recognizing as possibly belonging to the girl he’d spoken to on the coms.

Damon entered the place, looking over to the blonde and giving a nod of recognition.

“Hey,”

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litecommasticks
2012-01-02 12:49 am UTC (link)

Shannon wasn't entirely sure why she was staying put, waiting for the ghost of a brother she'd never appreciated when he'd been alive. He wasn't real. He wasn't coming. This was all a bad dream. She was probably actually passed out back at the Rape Caves with friggen Jack hovering over her uselessly pretending to make himself useful. As long as he didn't let her die like he had Boone, she supposed, it didn't really matter. But either way...this was just a dream. She'd wake up soon.

When she finally decided that and let go of the sliver of hope that Boone might actually still be around, somewhere — even if it was Limbo or Hell or whatever — Shannon logged out of the guest account on the computer and slid out of the chair, raking her fingers through her matted hair in an attempt to straighten it a little. She could feel the tugs at her scalp and, really, if this was a dream, she shouldn't feel the pain, should she? What she needed to try to do was take a shower. If she literally felt and smelled cleaner than the salt water managed to make her, then maybe, just maybe she'd believe that she was really somewhere. Wherever it was. Lawrence, Kansas? Probably Hell.

As she turned toward the door planning to leave, though, in he walked, nodding at her as though it wasn't in the least bit fucked up that he existed when she'd buried him only three days ago. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. "Hey..." she breathed finally.

Knitting her brow, Shannon took a few steps toward him, then, closing the gap between them and she tentatively reached out a hand to touch him. As soon as her fingertips made contact with his shirt, she pulled her hand back as though she'd been burned, surprised that he was corporeal. "Jesus..." she breathed. "How are you...here?" With that, she looked up at him, searching his eyes, an expression on her face somewhere between horrified, confused, and elated.

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salvatorescrow
2012-01-02 01:19 am UTC (link)

This was an interesting development. Suddenly the way this girl had reacted to him before had become clear to him. There had been other versions of him in Lawrence before, so it seemed entirely plausible that she was somehow connected to another guy who shared Damon’s face. He wasn’t as confused as he had been. The one big problem that still remained was the problem of how to break the news. He wasn’t the nicest guy around, but he didn’t want to be completely insensitive to someone who was already in a shitty position.

“I think I have an idea.” He winced, though he didn’t step away from her touch. “In fact, it’s a pretty good idea.” Damon gave a nod. This was weirder and more difficult to explain than he had originally thought it would be.

“I’m not... Whoever it is that you think I am.” Damon gave a small shrug. “There are people here and some of them look a lot like other people.”

Even he was unsatisfied with his abbreviated explanation of things. This was probably why everyone preferred to do the explaining online. Online things were more detached and you certainly didn’t have to deal with the emotions and disappointments you had to face when you were there with a newcomer, looking at them face to face. He really hoped that this girl wasn’t heartbroken by his clarification.

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litecommasticks
2012-01-02 01:40 am UTC (link)

For a moment, Shannon looked back at him dumbstruck. He looked like Boone. He sounded like Boone. Shit, he smelled like Boone. But when she touched him, he winced. Boone wouldn't have. Boone would've leaned into it. Then he went on to explain what he thought his 'pretty good' idea was and Shannon's face fell for a split second before she put up the walls and scowled at him.

"So who are you, then?" she asked, frowning and making an effort to compose herself as she set her jaw. Her stomach was fluttering and turning the same way it had when she'd been taken into the caves and had seen Boone's body the first time, lifeless; an empty shell. "If you're not him...who are you?" The second question came out a little more accusatory and frustrated than the first one.

Shannon stepped back and stiffened, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms over her chest. What business did this guy have walking, talking, and looking exactly like her freshly dead step-brother, anyway? How was she supposed to take that? Without meaning to, she averted her eyes, looking anywhere but directly at the man. Mostly because...the more she looked at him, the more she wanted to cry and apologize for the terrible person she'd been to him when really, if he was to be believed, it hadn't been him she'd been nasty to at all.

...yeah, this was definitely Hell. She probably deserved it, but that didn't make it an easy pill to swallow. Apparently, the Others had gotten to her before Sayid had. Fucking Vincent. That goddamn dog...

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salvatorescrow
2012-01-02 04:32 am UTC (link)

It wasn’t as if Damon had expected her to take it well, though that would have been an absolute dream. He tried to look pleasant and held back any sarcastic or otherwise cutting remarks.

“Damon Salvatore,” He smiled as he usually did when introducing himself. “I’m not from here, either.” He clarified, as if it would provide any comfort. It was difficult to explain the situation without saying things that didn’t make sense.

“And I’m not the only double of... Whoever it is you seem to be familiar with. There’s another.” Oh, Jason Todd. At least she hadn’t met him first. In his opinion, Jason was even worse than him.

“Look, it’s really important that I get you to this apartment complex. You can rest, eat, and the people there are so much better than me at explaining all of this.” Whatever ‘helpful’ and ‘friendly’ looked like, Damon was trying to channel them in his expression.

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litecommasticks
2012-01-02 06:27 pm UTC (link)

Shannon did her very best to keep her head held high and prevent her chin from quivering. The more he talked, the more she wished she hadn't asked. She wished he'd be quiet. "My brother," she replied reflexively, voice low and broken, sounding a little like gravel on glass with its roughness. Finally, she looked back at him, her breath hitching again when she did. "There's more of you? That look like you?" she asked, frowning.

Really, Shannon didn't want to go anywhere with this not-Boone. If she'd thought before she'd spoken, she would've blown him off and found a bathroom to hide and cry in until she could hold herself together long enough to be taken seriously. But, she hadn't. "There's beds?" she asked quickly; sharply. "And real food? Like...real food?" Then, she paused, shamed only because of the way that he looked and no other reason — at least, that's what she told herself — because the next thing that came to mind came immediately out of her mouth as well, before she could stop it. "And showers?" The sound of her voice was hopeful if a little watery.

He looked more like Boone when his features were less sharp with arrogance. She knew the look because she wore it almost all the time. Something about his expression was softer, now, and she found herself looking away again, setting her jaw against the lump building in her throat. "Où je suis? Vous devez être de la plaisanterie de lui l'être baise Kansas," she muttered under her breath, unable to look at him again, just yet.

["Where am I? You've got to be joking about it being fucking Kansas."]

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