entrancelogs | may old acquaintance be forgot

[ and that's still her choice.

it's hers.

she will choose to be human if that is an option.

elena lowers her eyes, swallowing past the prickling in her throat. she knows what she is refusing when she rejects his blood. it was present at the very edges of her relationship with stefan, unspoken and throbbing. isobel was one of the few people to confront her so directly about it. vampires live forever and humans do not.

what kind of future could she ever hope to have with one?

in wonderland, that hardly matters. whether she is human or she isn't, time will stand still. but if she hadn't become a vampire, what kind of future could they have possibly had? she's never truly had to ask herself these questions. elena operated in the here and now. she couldn't think about always. now... ]

Damon —

[ elena cuts herself off. she doesn't know how to put any of this into words. she isn't a writer after all. she is just a woman, bones and veins. human. she watches him as he moves around, searching for whatever can be of use. a smaller voice now: ] Thank you.

[it's her choice.

she chose it, and she still loved him after (tried to convince him not to take the cure with her). why doesn't he do it now? have that life of humanity with her?

she chose it and then shortly after she was knocked out, she was locked in an endless coma like sleeping beauty forever stuck in a box. it's what he has in mind, and she doesn't understand. and he can't tell her that the moment that she was able to have the cure, to choose it again, she did, and she was happy, joyous

how could he ever want anything else for her? the vampire side for her when he knows how much joy she takes out of being human?

isn't he terrible for feeling the way he does? the ache being born from within him that he should want her healed even at that risk of her being a vampire than wanting to watch her for twenty-four hours while she's dead.

it's selfish. and she doesn't want this. why would she?

he picks up a bottle, smells it, takes a drink of all the bottles (his stomach doesn't feel great afterward but that vampire healing kicks in plenty fast enough)... until he finds a bottle that tastes like alcohol to him.]

This is going to burn.

[it's what he says in a quiet voice instead, moving close.]

[ elena scoots to the side to give him some room on the bed, small though it may be, her head lowering to nod her understanding.

she rolls up the sleeve of her shirt all the way up to her shoulder in preparation, and meets his gaze. ]

I can handle it.

[ and she knows this is something that he needs to do, even if he doesn't want to. he doesn't like seeing her hurt, and she understands that most of all, but this was the risk she was taking when she went out there, and she would do it again. so now she has to put on her big girl pants, grit her teeth, and bear the burn.

drawing in a long breath and waiting. ]

[damon sinks down beside her, lifting the bottle up. sharp blue gaze darts over to her. he hates it. he hates her being in pain. he can smell her blood, and it's the worst scent that he's ever- he's ever experienced. he remembers it (the many times she has been hurt, the very last one, her lying in the wreckage with blood on her, and he couldn't wake her up.

he couldn't bring her back.)]

Hold on to me. [his voice is soft but quiet. it's a request. it's a promise. she can dig in as hard as she wants with her nails if it will help, because it will hurt like hell, and he can't take that away.

his one arm winds around her back, and then he pours the alcohol on her wound]

[ one hand bunches into the sheets beneath her and the other holds on to his knee, the pads of her fingers digging into it. it's nowhere near enough to hurt, and she's not sure that she could with their difference in strength. she holds her breath, heart thudding painfully against the walls of her chest.

she bites the insides of her cheeks, as though that will keep her from crying out, but no sooner the alcohol sinks into her skin, she makes a low, anguished noise. the alcohol sears into her skin, and she can't not react. it's hissed in between her teeth, nails scraping into the sheets.

god.

her eyes slide shut, and elena forces herself to remain very still. ]

[damon only flinches because she's in pain. elena is in pain, and he can't handle it. he shifts uncomfortably where he's sitting he pulls the bottle away as soon as it's enough to clean the wound. there's still possibility of infection because it's not like his shirt is sterile, but it'll have to do. his hand rests against the back of her arm as he swallows thickly, reaching up his other hand to cup the side of her face. he leans in, catching her gaze with his own from up close.]

Hey. Hey, look at me. Look, [and when she meets his gaze, she'll see the ache of worry in his own] It's over.

It's over. [he slides his thumb across her cheekbone, feeling his heart beat like- like a relentless drum within the walls of his chest, within his rib cage in his worry.

his fear. he slides his hand up her arm.]

I'll wrap it up tight, but if this doesn't stop the blood- [they'll have to do some homemade stitches, which he really, really doesn't want to have to do.]

Edited 2017-01-08 22:17 (UTC)

[ tears threaten to squeeze past her tightly closed eyelids, and she doesn't push them back open until she feels the touch of his palm against her cheek. she releases a shaky breath and lifts her eyes to meet his own, nodding once again as she lets a shudder course through her. it's over, and she nods yet again, her forehead brushing with his at the motion.

elena keeps her eyes trained on him, doing her best not to lose focus. her skin is a touch paler, perspiration sticking to her forehead. she elevates her arm with a small wince, trying to do her part in helping him stop the bleeding. ]

It will. It wasn't too deep, we'll worry if blood soaks through the cloth.

[ until then, she's remaining hopeful.

leaning into his touch, she finally releases a harsh breath. ] I'm okay, just do it.

[damon rests his forehead against her own. he slides his hand back down away from her face. her skin is paler. there's that perspiration sticking to her forehead. he'll make sure the bleeding stops.

he'll watch out for a fever to be sure it's not infected.

he catches her gaze and then winds the scrap of shirt around the cut as tightly as he can but not too tight either. he grimaces. after the alcohol, the pain of that isn't going to be nearly as bad, but-

it still will hurt, and he still hates her in pain, hates hurting her even knowing it needs doing. he lifts his hand again to frame the side of her face and then nods.]

It's done. I'll keep an eye on it.

[his hand drifts over the side of her arm as he studies her, gaze drifting up to the cut on her forehead now. he tears off more of his shirt so he can press something solid against it to stave off the bleeding] What happened?

[ pain rips through her, and elena once again fights to remain still.

she holds her breath, without realizing she is doing so, only releasing it when he's finished wrapping the cloth around her wound, applying just enough pressure to stop the bleeding. she remains slumped against the headrest, eyes closing as he begins to wipe her forehead clean. ]

I'd been training with Faith when it happened. We just woke up here. She fought off a monster and brought me to the hut, told me to stay put. [ he likely knows how that ended up working out ... ]

But I could hear screams, and I didn't know where any of you were.

[ she sighs. ]

I couldn't just sit still. It was this ... beetle thing, only half my size.

[damon rests the scrap of shirt against her cut on her forehead which is shallow enough that it's already stopped bleeding, but he wants to clean the blood up regardless. it's only when he wipes the blood off that he drops it away.]

You were scared for everyone else so you left.

[it's the same thing that happened with the zombies, why she was out there. he didn't live it but he watched her through videos.

his throat locks up, because now he's picturing it. he wraps his arm round her waist, lifting her up a bit now so he can have a better hold. it's terrifying to think of it, to think of her in that situation even knowing how good she is. how much she's trained for this.]

And you faced down one of those monsters. All by yourself. [he slips his fingertips through the strands of her hair with a grimace]

[ elena finds it in her to laugh, the sound hoarse and half-hearted, and not filled with much mirth.

she curls up against him, letting her arm slowly drop back to her side. ]

It was one monster, and I wasn't alone. I followed the screams, and some people helped. But once it was dead and everyone else kept moving, I decided to try making my way back to the hut in case Faith returned, or she'd sent any of you my way.

[ and then she heard her name.

his voice and her name. ]

[damon winds his arms further around her as she curls up against him, and he tightens his hold on her, fingertips pressing into her arms. he breathes her in at the top of her head as she curls up against him.

his hand slides over her hand and then across her back as he hols her protectively to his chest, breathing her in. she's real. she's here. she's she is in one piece.]

Well, I spent my entire time searching for you.

[he pulls back enough to catch her gaze. his fingertips drift over the side of her face. he's seen a lot of people acting- acting very strange (stranger than usual, more intense, more aggressive, more withdrawn)]

Are you okay?

Edited 2017-01-15 01:22 (UTC)

[ elena lifts her head from his chest to examine what he is asking.

she doesn't look away from him, her own fingertips drifting, settling on the low of his chest. ] I feel ... colder. [ a head shake. ] Not temperature wise. This place, it just feels colder. Empty. Like it sucks everything out.

[ everything good.

she wasn't immune to those effects, having acted strangely whenever it got the best of her, but as soon as the blood loss started, she began to feel it less, began to feel the blood loss more.

and now that he asks her, she's able to give a clear answer. before there was just the darkness. ]

[damon keeps her gaze as she looks up at him. his fingers drift in circles over her back before they finally settle there, gripping hold of her with a tight certainty] Yeah, people have been running around, acting strange. ...stranger.

That must tie in. [all the good being sucked out like that. he slides his hands up her back and then down again]

I want to get you water too. That will help.

[with the blood loss. she's still pale. he drifts a hand over her forehead even if he logically knows infection doesn't set in that fast. he saw plenty of it. the 1860s didn't have great medicine, and he went to war.

what he wouldn't give for some antibiotics right now]

[ wonderland spoils them.

it gives them enchanted armoires that allow them to pluck from its drawers anything their hearts could possibly want ... right until they need them most. the same thing happened during the zombie event. the closets wouldn't work, to varying degrees, and they had to make due with what they had.

in elena's case, a portrait's wooden frame.

her fingers tighten around his waist. ] No. Not yet. Damon, I'm fine.

[ they'll need to look for the others and the settlement isn't entirely safe, but right now she just wants to allow herself to feel the relief he's okay, too. ]

[damon's gaze darts over her shakily, but he knows he'll be able to tell if- if she really needs that water. their supplies are limited.

the plea in her gaze, in her grip is all it takes. he's helpless to do anything else but curl up with her, winding his arm further around her. he rests his palm against her rib cage, closing his eyes.

he feels the beat of her heart, hears the steady breath, feels her rib cage press out against his palms. smells her blood in the air. it makes him tense, pull her in closer.]

Okay. Not yet.

may old acquaintance be forgot

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