thecatinahat (
thecatinahat) wrote in
sixthiterationlogs2016-10-18 10:12 pm
let's go back in time - ota
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Outside the bungalow
WHEN: October 18th, PM
OPEN TO: Jake | OTA
WARNINGS: Amnesia
STATUS: Closed
He dreams of his mother's voice. It's an old dream that's haunted him ever since the day a year ago that Carlos Alvarez had been kicked out of the house. Still, he wakes up yearning for the warmth of his blankets and his mother's voice summoning him to breakfast. Burrowing his face into the warmth beneath him, he sleepily tries to push himself into some more sleep. He may only be nineteen, but he's still riding that need for sleep right out of his teenage years.
It's that sleepiness that muddles his thoughts, which means it takes him a second to realize that he's not clasping a pillow beneath him, but someone's very broad shoulders. Blearily, Carlos opens his eyes and stares right up at a bearded man that he doesn't remember going home with.
He wouldn't. Well, maybe he would. After all, he's only been taking these risks for a little while, but he wouldn't drink so much that he'd forget. Glancing down, he finds himself in nothing but a pair of boxers and he frantically leaps back from the bed, tripping on the corner and stumbling to his feet as he stares down at the man with widened eyes.
"Who are you? Where am I? Did we go home last night?" he demands in Spanish, a rapid rattle of words as panic starts to set in.
He's quick to hurry out of that bedroom, but when he tries for escape, his foot comes across a box on the porch. Cautiously, Carlos looks down at it and when he sees his name on the cardboard, he opens it to find jeans, a light pink long sleeve shirt, and a tarp hat, weathered with many logos. He yanks it into his hands and changes in the kitchen swiftly, his stomach growling. He still needs to get out of here, away from the strange man in the bedroom upstairs before someone figures out what he's done.
If this gets back to his parents, then any chance of reconciliation is gone. Hurrying outside, Carlos shoves the hat onto his frizzing, short curls and starts to walk with his head resolutely on the ground, every step a stubborn one.
It's why he doesn't realize for a whole minute that he's not in California, that this isn't home.
The weather is brisk, sending a chill down his spine, and nothing around him makes sense. Suddenly, waking up in bed with a stranger that he can't remember isn't the only one of his worries and he's convinced that he's been kidnapped. He spins to debate going back and getting answers from the gringo, but he's not sure what to think about that man and the situation, so instead, he turns back to study the foreign ground in front of him.
Carlos is lost, without a school to turn to, without an army base to hide behind, and without any friends or family (though they abandoned him long before this). Feeling sick to his stomach, he feels his knees going a little weak as he struggles to find someplace to sit. In the end, he ends up on the very porch of the house he'd been trying to escape from, taking his hat off his head to wring it between his hands, the worry showing all over his face.
If only he could go home, but Mexico is even further than California and home doesn't want him back.
WHERE: Outside the bungalow
WHEN: October 18th, PM
OPEN TO: Jake | OTA
WARNINGS: Amnesia
STATUS: Closed
He dreams of his mother's voice. It's an old dream that's haunted him ever since the day a year ago that Carlos Alvarez had been kicked out of the house. Still, he wakes up yearning for the warmth of his blankets and his mother's voice summoning him to breakfast. Burrowing his face into the warmth beneath him, he sleepily tries to push himself into some more sleep. He may only be nineteen, but he's still riding that need for sleep right out of his teenage years.
It's that sleepiness that muddles his thoughts, which means it takes him a second to realize that he's not clasping a pillow beneath him, but someone's very broad shoulders. Blearily, Carlos opens his eyes and stares right up at a bearded man that he doesn't remember going home with.
He wouldn't. Well, maybe he would. After all, he's only been taking these risks for a little while, but he wouldn't drink so much that he'd forget. Glancing down, he finds himself in nothing but a pair of boxers and he frantically leaps back from the bed, tripping on the corner and stumbling to his feet as he stares down at the man with widened eyes.
"Who are you? Where am I? Did we go home last night?" he demands in Spanish, a rapid rattle of words as panic starts to set in.
He's quick to hurry out of that bedroom, but when he tries for escape, his foot comes across a box on the porch. Cautiously, Carlos looks down at it and when he sees his name on the cardboard, he opens it to find jeans, a light pink long sleeve shirt, and a tarp hat, weathered with many logos. He yanks it into his hands and changes in the kitchen swiftly, his stomach growling. He still needs to get out of here, away from the strange man in the bedroom upstairs before someone figures out what he's done.
If this gets back to his parents, then any chance of reconciliation is gone. Hurrying outside, Carlos shoves the hat onto his frizzing, short curls and starts to walk with his head resolutely on the ground, every step a stubborn one.
It's why he doesn't realize for a whole minute that he's not in California, that this isn't home.
The weather is brisk, sending a chill down his spine, and nothing around him makes sense. Suddenly, waking up in bed with a stranger that he can't remember isn't the only one of his worries and he's convinced that he's been kidnapped. He spins to debate going back and getting answers from the gringo, but he's not sure what to think about that man and the situation, so instead, he turns back to study the foreign ground in front of him.
Carlos is lost, without a school to turn to, without an army base to hide behind, and without any friends or family (though they abandoned him long before this). Feeling sick to his stomach, he feels his knees going a little weak as he struggles to find someplace to sit. In the end, he ends up on the very porch of the house he'd been trying to escape from, taking his hat off his head to wring it between his hands, the worry showing all over his face.
If only he could go home, but Mexico is even further than California and home doesn't want him back.

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It also does wonders to keep the nightmares at bay. And when it doesn't...well. Cougar can take a punch.
He's jostled awake when the weight on his chest — Cougar's head and shoulders — suddenly shifts away from him and the mattress tilts as he flings himself off it. Jake, somewhat used to this, just grumbles and rolls towards him, reaching out with his eyes closed. "Come back to bed," he mumbles. "I'm cold."
A stream of Spanish is his reward, which annoys him enough to crack an eye open and glare at Cougar in the pale pre-dawn light. "Dude. English in the morning, okay? You know I can't speak Spanish this early." He pats the bed invitingly, still warm from where Cougar had been lying all night. "Sleep now. Dormir más."
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He points at him, then towards himself. "Where did I find you?" he asks, his English extremely halting and heavily accented. "Bar? Did one of my friends send you to me? Did someone pay for you? Are you a hooker?"
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Clearly, this is a conversation he needs to see for, so, heaving a sigh, he twists and fumbles around the bedside table until he can find his glasses and shove them on his face.
There. Now he can see. Now he can see Cougar's oddly frightened expression, and the scowl that had been brewing on Jake's face melts away automatically. "Hey, dude. It's okay." What is going on here? "It was just a dream, okay? You're fine. I'm fine. We're both fine. Veronica is fine. Stop making that face, man, you're freaking me out."
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"You are not paid?" he struggles to find the words to ask.
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"Cougs—Carlos," he corrects himself, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching out towards him again, trying to keep his posture non-threatening. He huffs a small laugh through his nose. "I know I'm still figuring this shit out, but I didn't think I was that forgettable," he tries to joke, but the frown between his eyebrows probably belies that effort. "I mean, you pay me in breakfast..."
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"I don't know your name," he says. "Who are you?"
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He settles his hands on Cougar's hips, resisting the urge to pull him too close. Something tells him it won't be welcome right now.
"It's me, Cougs," he whispers, shot through the heart at the honest confusion on Cougar's face when he asks his name. It probably shows clearly on his face, but he's too busy trying not to freak out right now to worry about what expression he's wearing. "Jake. Your Jake."
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"I'm Carlos Alvarez," he introduces himself. "Hello, Jake."
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Not wanting to have this fight right now, he instead turns to his Army training and shuts that part of himself down, cramming it back into the crevice in the back of his mind where all his hurts and insecurities go. Think about it later, Jensen. Focus on the problem at hand first. Hurt feelings can wait.
"I know who you are, Carlos," he mutters, not doing all that well on locking down his emotions after all.
Luckily, Baby takes that moment to realize the humans are awake and decides to jump up on the bed, scrambling a little to keep from sliding off with the blankets before wriggling up to try and get in on the cuddle pile. "Baby, no!" Jake whines, but the dog knows he's hardly an authority here and promptly ignores him.
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"I think Frank wants to do a thing today, so don't freak if I'm not—" She falters mid-word as she reaches the front walk and half-turns toward him, thoughts jerked away from her like the cliché of a screeching record.
"¿Qué te pasa?" she asks, eyes rounding. She's never once seen Cougar look like this, not even that night when he'd almost hurt her. He looks almost scared, and fuck if that doesn't terrify her, too.
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"Do you know me?" he asks, sucking in a sharp breath before he starts to go on, his mind a cloud of worry and fear and anxiety. "I woke up and I was in this bed here, but the last I remember, I was in California and I was just trying to find a place to crash because my friends have a couch, but I don't want to stay too long." He inhales, his brow furrowing as he kneads the hat in his hands. "And then suddenly I'm here and I'm in a bed with some strange man and he says I'm his boyfriend..."
None of it makes sense, that's all he knows.
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It's clear that he's freaked out, and that's freaking her out, but she knows this shit, they speak Spanish in the house all the time, and she thinks she's got some of the gist of it despite that it's a confusing and alarming picture. Is he saying he can't remember? How many times has she said it's fucked up that none of them can remember how they got in that fountain?
"Novio," she repeats, rolling the unfamiliar word around in her mouth, and shakes her head. "No me sé esa palabra. Compañero? Amigo?" She gives him a pointed, wide-eyed look. "Jake? You were in bed with..."
Veronica blinks, her head rearing abruptly back.
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"I didn't drink that much last night, I know I didn't. I just wanted to go out with my friends," he pleads earnestly. "Where am I?"
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Something's obviously wrong, and she has no idea what to do.
"Cougar," she says, and drops her bag so that she can kneel in front of him and take his hand in her own. "Do you remember me at all?"
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Maybe this is all a trick? His friends couldn't be this creative, though, could they?
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"I'm Veronica," she says, pushing back the sudden, urgent need to shake him, to cry, to scream that he's her best friend and doesn't he know he's not supposed to do this to her? "You're in a village. You live in this house with me and your friend Jake. We all came here—" She falters, casting for the Spanish and coming up short. "On accident? No, that's wrong. I'm sorry, my Spanish isn't very good yet. You were teaching me."
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"I don't remember any. How can it be possible? How can I suddenly be kidnapped and wake up and everyone else knows me? I haven't hit my head, I haven't lost memories, I just don't know who you are!""
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She walks around the town, despite there being a slight ache in the arch of her foot, as she ensures to remind herself she can move her left leg freely and without any assistance from a brace. Going for a long walk, she eyes the bungalows, some she's snuck into to take bits and pieces of what another would deem rubbish from.
Seeing a familiar figure sitting outside of his own home, there's a slight skip to her step as Raven's entire demeanour brightens. Cougar's quickly become someone Raven enjoys seeing and hearing from, even if it's the back of his head while he visits the inn and she ducks upstairs to disappear and get back to work at building something she doesn't quite know what it'll become just yet.
She smiles as she approaches, and calls out, "Hey, Big Cat. Sunbathing?"
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Worse, she's speaking English too. He knows enough to understand, but it's exhausting not being able to speak back properly. "No bathing," he says, not sure what she'd meant by 'sunbathing', why she's addressing him like she knows him, or why such a pretty girl like this is wearing such strange clothes. He points to her, then to himself. "You? I? We know?"
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This isn't a joke. She doubts Cougar's capable of such an unfunny thing, even though she suspects his sense of humour is as dry as the ground when the sky refuses to shed any water for days on end.
She approaches, her step a lot slower than before. She breaks into Spanish instead of English. "Yes. I'm Raven. Little Bird? Remember?"
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"But I wake up here, and there's another man in my bed and he says he's my boyfriend." He thinks the panic in his eyes is a wide, desperate thing. "He's very handsome, of course, and very sexy, but I don't know how I got him." Inhaling sharply, he gives her a worried look. "Where am I?"
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That's what she does best. Pulling everything together.
"Some town." The question grates her just as the 'where are you from?' one does. Raven doesn't know enough to give anyone any definite coordinates. It's a town, one she wouldn't expect to ever see back home. "You really don't remember the fountain?"
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"And he says he knows me!" Carlos finds this the most ridiculous. "And you, now? I don't know anyone. I don't know anything here. Why was there a box with my name on it? With clothes that fit me perfectly? Have I been kidnapped?"
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Raven says that easily, accompanied with a shrug. It's the easiest response to give, as it's true. He's been kidnapped, along with the rest of them.
There's an explanation somewhere for Cougar not remembering anything at all. Raven thinks Clarke would say it's because he hit his head and he's suffering from some sort of temporary brain damage.
"I'm Raven," she says, pressing a hand to her chest before letting it fall. "We're friends. Or we were before today. I can't tell you about the town, or why you're here. But maybe you can tell me what you remember last before waking up here."
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He looks left, then right, before glancing back at Raven. "I think maybe he is a hooker? He is too attractive to be in my league, body wise."
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