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i like to keep some things to myself
CHARACTERS: Damon Salvatore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blooded), Elena Gilbert (otrazhenie)
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Tents
WHEN: DAY :014 & END OF DAY :016
SUMMARY: Damon teaches Elena to pay attention to vital signs. & Damon has a nightmare. Elena asks some questions.
WARNINGS: Feeding, torture, despair, melodrama. Will add more if anything comes up!
❰ in a tent full of ten other people is not where damon would choose to have a nightmare, if he could avoid it. of course, he'd choose not to have any nightmares at all if that was an option, but if he has to have them, having them in at least a semblance of privacy would be ideal.
no such luck now. he's had a run of good luck since they got to hyrypia, no nightmares or reminders of augustine at all, but the night of his hunt... something must have set his subconscious off, but what, he has no idea.
it's not the worst nightmare he's ever had, at least. no one's hands in his guts, he still has both eyes. his whole body aches, but that was normal in those years, just something he got used to until he finally fully healed once he was free. it's not the ache that scares him, though, not the pervasive and constant pain that makes his stomach drop and his fingers twitch against his cot in his sleep.
enzo is screaming. he's been screaming for hours, and damon is stuck in his cell, unable to escape, or fight, or do anything at all but listen. he's sure enzo will scream himself hoarse and lose his voice at some point, whitmore will have to leave, something will have to make it stop, but it just keeps going, guttural and animal. there's nothing to do in the face of pain like that but scream. you can't escape it, can't fight back, can't do anything but take it, and that kind of thing... it makes you forget everything but the pain.
damon's never felt half so inhuman as he did when he was under whitmore's knife, guts stapled open, screaming himself hoarse while stomach acid burned through tissue that healed only to burn again in a vicious, agonising cycle.
the screaming suddenly stops, and for a moment, for just a second, damon is relieved. selfishly, terribly relieved, shoulders slumping and breath leaving him in one long sigh. but the screams don't start again, and whitmore doesn't bring enzo back to the cells, an hour passes and a terrible weight settles in damon's stomach as he realizes that enzo must be dead. he's left alone with whitmore now, the sole focus of all his terrible experiments, and maybe it's better that enzo is free of this but damon hates him for it, wishes he was dead too, why can't he die —
he wakes with a start, shaking violently as awareness trickles in slowly. he's on hyrypia, with the nest, with elena. enzo died in a fire in 1958, and damon had to turn off his humanity to let it happen. the shields that lapsed when damon fell asleep he builds back up slowly, hiding his thoughts in fog and under rivers of blood as he sits up and reaches gently for sam's mind, the path to his breathing excercise well-worn.
in to seven, out to eleven. ❱
blooded), Elena Gilbert (otrazhenie)WHERE: Hyrypia - The Tents
WHEN: DAY :014 & END OF DAY :016
SUMMARY: Damon teaches Elena to pay attention to vital signs. & Damon has a nightmare. Elena asks some questions.
WARNINGS: Feeding, torture, despair, melodrama. Will add more if anything comes up!
❰ in a tent full of ten other people is not where damon would choose to have a nightmare, if he could avoid it. of course, he'd choose not to have any nightmares at all if that was an option, but if he has to have them, having them in at least a semblance of privacy would be ideal.
no such luck now. he's had a run of good luck since they got to hyrypia, no nightmares or reminders of augustine at all, but the night of his hunt... something must have set his subconscious off, but what, he has no idea.
it's not the worst nightmare he's ever had, at least. no one's hands in his guts, he still has both eyes. his whole body aches, but that was normal in those years, just something he got used to until he finally fully healed once he was free. it's not the ache that scares him, though, not the pervasive and constant pain that makes his stomach drop and his fingers twitch against his cot in his sleep.
enzo is screaming. he's been screaming for hours, and damon is stuck in his cell, unable to escape, or fight, or do anything at all but listen. he's sure enzo will scream himself hoarse and lose his voice at some point, whitmore will have to leave, something will have to make it stop, but it just keeps going, guttural and animal. there's nothing to do in the face of pain like that but scream. you can't escape it, can't fight back, can't do anything but take it, and that kind of thing... it makes you forget everything but the pain.
damon's never felt half so inhuman as he did when he was under whitmore's knife, guts stapled open, screaming himself hoarse while stomach acid burned through tissue that healed only to burn again in a vicious, agonising cycle.
the screaming suddenly stops, and for a moment, for just a second, damon is relieved. selfishly, terribly relieved, shoulders slumping and breath leaving him in one long sigh. but the screams don't start again, and whitmore doesn't bring enzo back to the cells, an hour passes and a terrible weight settles in damon's stomach as he realizes that enzo must be dead. he's left alone with whitmore now, the sole focus of all his terrible experiments, and maybe it's better that enzo is free of this but damon hates him for it, wishes he was dead too, why can't he die —
he wakes with a start, shaking violently as awareness trickles in slowly. he's on hyrypia, with the nest, with elena. enzo died in a fire in 1958, and damon had to turn off his humanity to let it happen. the shields that lapsed when damon fell asleep he builds back up slowly, hiding his thoughts in fog and under rivers of blood as he sits up and reaches gently for sam's mind, the path to his breathing excercise well-worn.
in to seven, out to eleven. ❱
no subject
❰ before elena can fall too deeply into her own despair, damon reaches out, hooking his finger under her chin and nudging her to look up at him. his expression is gentle but firm, his lips pressed into a line. ❱
Why do you have to be strong, Elena?
no subject
I can't let anyone else die because of me.
[ It's quiet, so very quiet, but the words scrape her throat like jagged rocks and she hates herself for giving voice to them. She hates herself for not being what everyone expects her to be. ]
no subject
❰ that is a somewhat unfair question, damon knows — he hasn't done enough to disabuse elena of the notion that she has to keep herself tightly controlled in order to keep everyone safe — but that's something they can acknowledge later. right now he needs to drag elena back up. ❱
What do you think will happen if you stop caring so much? You think I'd let you kill someone? Or Sam? Hell, or Lakshmi?
❰ if there is one thing that can be guaranteed here, it's that elena has no shortage of people who will keep an eye on her and keep her from making mistakes. ❱
You're not alone. Stop acting like you are.
no subject
And it makes her feel guilty that he has to point that out to her. ]
...I'm sorry.
no subject
❰ damon waits until elena focuses on him, until she looks in his eyes of her own volition, and his hand migrates from her chin to cup her cheek. ❱
You don't have anything to be sorry for, and if you say it again, I'm gonna dump sand in all your clothes and make you walk around all itchy for the rest of this stupid pilgrimage. Alright?
❰ he has no more patience for any of this — he has patience aplenty for elena, when she's not being a martyr, but none for this, this very specific mindset she's fallen into, where she can't do anything right and she's sorry for merely existing. her so-called friends back in mystic falls did this to her, but she's wallowing in it now, and he's given her time to be sad and self-pitying, because she deserves it, god knows she does.
but enough is enough, and he's not going to play into her pity party anymore. ❱
Shit's hard. You can be selfish for a while, you can be sad, you can hate all this — but you will get through it. This is your life, Elena. Live it.
no subject
Elena's quiet for a moment, watching Damon carefully with something not quite disbelief in her expression, and then she closes her eyes and leans her cheek into that hand. The waves within her calm, the door settling at the bottom, and she favors it for just a moment before looking at him again. ]
If you put sand in my clothes, it'll be war. Just so you know.
[ Ah, there's that spark of mischief from the old Elena. ]
no subject
A prank war with Elena Gilbert? Don't tempt me.
❰ elena's stronger than she thinks, even when she's lamenting the fact that she has to be strong at all. she can get through anything, if she pushes herself hard enough, but unrelenting and suffocating pressure isn't the way to do it. one day after another, living life until it isn't so hard anymore, that's how elena makes it through. damon will be here to give her a kick in the pants until she remembers that as many times as he has to.
he reaches out to help pull her to standing, but when she's halfway up, he lets go, allowing her to drop onto her butt while he grins down, mischievous.
come on, gilbert, have some fun. ❱
no subject
Well, you've made your bed, Damon. It's on now.
no subject
Bring it, Gilbert. Let's hope you're a better prankster than you are a cook.
no subject
We'll just have to see, won't we.
[ But you bet she's gonna remember that comment. ]