(may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

MAY 1ST - 3RD

AFTER THE ACCIDENT

There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before waking up.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.

Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.

Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.

MAY 1ST - 4TH

GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN

However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.

It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.

Or at the very least some of the delicious treats at the school bake sale you're seeing flyers for all over town!

MAY 5TH

ANNUAL BAKE SALE, PRESENTED BY THE PTA!

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. Or, in this particular case, the hospital. There's no denying the hospital has had a hard time of it lately, between the steady influx of accident victims at the start of each month and the recent outbreak scare, and the Wayward Pines Academy PTA has come up with the perfect solution to show their support to the hard working hospital staff by vowing to donate half of the proceeds for the sale today. Maybe the hospital can see about finally getting the staff breakroom a decent coffee machine!

And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and flyers stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined. Not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today, and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, after all. Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

MOD NOTES

Welcome to our fourth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!

This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the 1st and the 3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the 5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, date, location, and Open or Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.

If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.

Comments

gladiolus amicitia → various dates ← various locations; open

[dadiolus]

one; may 1st

I said I'm fine.

( the nurses had rushed in nearly the moment he'd regained consciousness, taking vitals, shining lights in his eyes that irritated the already irritating headache that had blossomed behind them. but he's not fine, is he, with all of those bruises and scrapes and healing abrasions that hadn't been there before he'd been knocked out?

nope.

he remembers the crash, or at least he thinks he does, the sound of screeching tires and crunching metal, of approaching sirens. the smell of burning rubber, gasoline, acrid to the point of stinging eyes and nose and making it difficult to breathe. there had been voices, distantly at least, and while he tries to remember what they'd sounded like, the harder he tries, the more they sift back into a nebulous mess of background noise that does more harm than good.

it makes his headache worse. pair a building bit of restless energy with the fact that he can't recall much of anything beyond his name upon waking and you've pretty much got a prime recipe for impending disaster, but it doesn't really look like he's going to be able to do anything about it. not … right away, anyway.

they don't keep him when he tries to leave — hell, he really would have liked to see anyone try to keep him — and once he's retrieved his belongings from the station ( phone, a book that looks like it might have seen better days, a shield nearly half his size and half a pack of gum ), there's really nothing left to do but check things out.

right? right. )

two; may 2nd — 3rd

( if he gets a few looks while wandering through the pines, it might be because of this thing known as an allergy to shirts. bare-chested, jacket hanging open with not even a shred of modesty painting his expression, he walks the whole stretch of distance between himself and his. home. ( but he's used to walking, or at least it feels like it. his mind's still a bit fuzzy, and it might have been something they'd dosed him with back at the hospital. easy enough to blame it on that, or the accident itself. )

there's beer in the fridge when he opens it. he cracks one open, meanders back into the living room, sips it as he kicks his boots off into one corner and leaves them there. makes his way through the rest of the house. it feels familiar, looks and smells familiar. comfortable. like home should. but something still feels a bit off, and again, easily attributed to any lingering effects from a head injury. that damned headache just won't go away.

might as well get settled in, then. )

three; may 4th

( it isn't the delectable scent of noodles that lures him out of the house, but of something much sweeter, and while he's never considered himself much of a sweets guy, there is no denying that there is some seriously tasty things going on outside. it gives him reason enough to get out, wander around even more — maybe bump into some people he hasn't seen in a few days.

or get his hands on a brownie that he seriously doesn't need, but is inevitably worth it. so worth it. )

( ooc; wanna hash out fake memories, or request a starter, whatever, hit me up over at boldly )

may 2nd!

[votively]

[Well, that's not something you see everyday.

The lack of shirt was probably what made him stand out more than anything, but the longer she looks, the more Lunafreya starts to notice— other things. The style of dress is familiar... Actually, he's familiar. Her own memories were still a bit fuzzy in some places, so she's not entirely sure how, but she's certain—so certain—that she's seen him somewhere before.

Would that there was some way for her to check... But the only proof she might have had was not here.

Watching him sure wasn't going to do her any favors, though. She smooths out her dress and approaches him with a smile.]

Hello. Do you live around here?

[Has this shirtless man been here this whole time and she simply didn't notice... Or was it because she couldn't remember him that she just never paid him any mind before? Either way, if she talked to him, she might be able to solve this mystery.]

godspeed, luna

[dadiolus]

( you wanna talk about fuzzy memories? hope you've got an ear, because he could very well talk it off, given half the chance — but as it stands, there are a number of things that either don't make sense or feel like they don't fit, but there are all kinds of niggling things in the back of his mind that tell him that everything is fine. this is where he belongs.

and. well. the whole wandering about mostly shirtless is just something that happens. it's distracting, yeah, and maybe one of these days he'll take to buttoning some buttons. as it is right now, when she speaks up, at the very least he gives over a sheepish sort of smile, the likes of which might just convey the fact that he doesn't quite have a handle on what he's supposed to be doing.

but he's going to pretend like he does. both in the presence of such a lovely lady — you can't blame him for noticing, right? — and with one of those niggling feelings that might just bring with it the sense of something else that he can't quite put his finger on.

but that's neither here nor there. ) Uh, yeah — not too far, actually. ( you caught him just before he'd managed to get back to his place, darn it. ) Head's a little fuzzy, so it's takin' me a while.

they're all trying their best. ;;

[votively]

Oh... [That explained it—he must have been in one of those mysterious "accidents," like her before, and Nyx before that. In other words, maybe her mind wasn't playing tricks on her after all. Maybe there was a good reason for why he felt so familiar.

Her smile softens a bit, empathetic of his situation.] It's quite alright. It seems as though it happens to the best of us.

[Or maybe more like "the majority of us." It was strange how common this whole thing was... Definitely unlikely to be a coincidence. But she chooses not to burden him with these thoughts. Other things were more important right now.]

I fear my situation was much like yours, not too long ago. However, even so, if there is aught I can do to help, I would be more than happy to do so.

[She was technically still recovering, at least on the memory front, but it didn't matter. If there was anything she could do to assist him, then that was all she wanted to do.]

they really, really are

[dadiolus]

( once he starts figuring out that these "accidents" are a recurring thing? if he somehow puts two and two together that everyone here has been in one themselves? there are going to be questions.

but until then, it's all he can to do hone in on the feeling that there is something familiar about her, too — maybe he's seen her before, but then of course he would have, if they lived in the same place, wouldn't he? it's not all that strange.

( but it's something else. he's pretty damned sure. )

his expression flickers into something a bit more concerned at the admission, and he tilts his head to the side with a small sound of contemplation. passing over her offer to help in any way she could for the smallest moment in order to ask — ) You were in an accident too?

three;

[avicula]

[ dutch has no intention of stopping by the bake sale, but when she walks home from the gym, she's distracted by the warm and heavy scent of baked goods and finds herself moving closer. home can wait for a while longer. (home, the word sits oddly on her tongue and feels odd even when she thinks it, and yet it's the first one to come to mind. she has too many memories of living in another place, of another life, of space and hunting down warrants. she remembers not wanting to think of any place as home then, too, of weakness and vulnerability. so much of it doesn't make sense.)

she looks at a few of the goods offered and eventually settles on a piece of chocolate cake that looks incredibly rich and tastes even richer. ]

You know what'd go really well with this? [ she asks the next best person, her lips twisting in a smile that's somewhere between sardonic and ironic without really looking who she's talking to. ] A glass of wine.

[dadiolus]

( he should have gone somewhere else — or at the very least, gone somewhere before, to work off some of that restless energy that is settled in the pit of his stomach, around the base of his spine, and he picks his head up at the sound of the voice that carries.

he hasn't chosen anything for himself yet, but he looks over with the smallest hint of a grin, something that might look a little bit familiar — maybe to both of them, if they pay close enough attention — and he shakes his head, just a little. something that might look more amused than anything else. )

Wine? So you want grape juice with your cake? ( there's a laugh, and it's more good-natured, just a bit more teasing than anything else. ) C'mon, you can do better than that.

[avicula]

[ dutch knows a thing or two about restless energy, but it's settled for now as far as possible, the monster raging inside her chest quieted by several rounds in the boxing ring with various partners, by a long bout against a punching bag. perhaps it should be disquieting that violence calms her, but it works. dutch remembers too much of her life as a killjoy to find it strange.

there's something familiar in that grin — maybe it's his face wearing that expression, or maybe it's just an expression she's seen on someone else's face before, dutch isn't sure — and it has her own smile widening, a little more genuine now. ]

Got me there. [ dutch can pretend to be fancy. she can fake a distinguished palate and extensive knowledge of the rules of etiquette of the nobility because — she's not sure why, actually. but there doesn't seem to be a need to pretend to be something she's not, now, does there? ] Any stiff drink would be good with it. [ actually, a stiff drink would be good, period. her limbs are loose from exercise; some non-sugary food and some alcohol sound like just the thing. ]

[dadiolus]

( there's no better way to work out that pent-up energy than pushing the body to the point of exhaustion, to the edge of its limits and pushing even harder still, until the threshold is broken. surpassed. left in the dust to remain as little more than a memory, or something similar. the ache of worn-out muscles tends to serve as a good enough distraction, and as for that —

maybe he's seen that look somewhere before, on someone else. whatever it is, it's easy enough to lean into it, use it for some measure of a standing point when everything else feels just a little bit fuzzy, and he doesn't think there's ever been a single moment in which he's tried to pass himself off as something classy ( that he can remember ), this doesn't strike him as one of those moments, either. he hums a low note, making an elaborate show of scanning their surroundings and huffing out a laugh. )

Somethin' tells me we're gonna have to go elsewhere if we want anythin' stronger than lemonade. ( since dat hard liquor ain't exactly family-friendly, y'know. )

three;

[allfornothing]

[ Wherever Gladio is heading out for that brownie... there's a bike that growls beside him on the way there, and when he gets to that point, there's a girl on the bike. After Nyx got her oriented, one way or another, and they picked up her stuff, and saw her house (how is it her house?) she needed to clear her head a little. And what better way than making the town a little bit less quiet, hm? ]

[dadiolus]

( as if he could ignore the growl of that bike, or the girl on it. the rumble of the engine is something he can all but feel in the middle of his chest as she draws up next to him, and when he turns, the form straddling the metal frame brings a bit of a grin to the edge of his mouth. he quirks a brow, cocks his head to the side. )

Think you could make a little more noise?

[allfornothing]

[ It's a little strange, but while no name or full memories come to her, that little grin and that steady look feel right and familiar, almost more than the alarms about people who make her lower her guard.

At least the challenge she can take without hesitation. ]

'Course I can. How much d'you want your fillings to rattle in your teeth?

[ She was just blowing off steam, not trying to wake the entire town. He can easily change that. ]

[dadiolus]

( no name, no memories … but of course it's easy enough to chalk that up to the accident, isn't it? that fuzzy feeling still meandering about inside his head, making a mess out of everything he tries to make sense of, and falls just short.

but it feels easy enough to grin at her like he does, almost natural, a single brow quirked upward. ) Ain't got any. Gonna have to settle for pissin' off the whole neighborhood. ( oh, but he's grinning like a damned fiend. )

two; may 3rd - in front of Java Joe's

[babyhunter]

[Clarys attention is directed down at the steaming cup of coffee held gingerly between her fingertips. She's wearing what she'd deem normal clothes: jeans, a baby blue tank, sneakers and a pink zippered hoodie. It's still a little chilly out, cold enough for her to get hot coffee, but warm enough that she doesn't feel the need to carry around a heavy coat.

She rotates the coffee slowly, positioning it so that the little open section was placed for her to sip easily. The steam of the drink rises in ominous thick white swirls as if stating that it was currently too hot to drink. Clary never really understood why they served coffee at scolding temperatures instead of drinkable temperatures.

Clary looks up and then stumbles back when she see's Gladiolus walking towards her on the street.]

Ah! [Coffee jumps from the small opening and drops on her fingers.] Ah! [It burns her skin but she manages to keep the failing to a minimum subsequently saving her coffee from dropping to the ground.]

Put a shirt on before you poke someones eye out.

[She pauses, realizing that she'd said that to a complete stranger.]

Aren't you even a little cold?

let's start this disaster fire

[dadiolus]

( coffee is at its best when it's piping hot, or didn't you know? it's something that he's carried around with him for as long as he can remember, and there's a reason for it — he's sure there is, but he can't recall it — but that's neither here nor there, now is it?

but. there always has to be that one moron that takes a drink of something too damned hot and ends up burning themselves, and for that we have those little disclaimers in the lids of to-go cups. caution: hot. no shit.

now, he's used to getting a reaction here and there about his state of dress ( or … undress, as the case may be more often than not ), but it generally has a tendency to be in the form of quiet staring, maybe even quieter murmuring. but that? he has to huff out a laugh, a low, rich sound that accompanies the shake of his head as he folds his arms over his chest. ) I run hot. Don't get cold too often. ( and he might be smirking a little bit, now. )

The concern's appreciated, though.

She has the best questions lol

[babyhunter]

[It takes great effort not to stare at his chest. He’s handsome, but that isn’t why she’s having difficulty looking away from those rippling pictorials. It’s just that he’s half naked and if a half-naked man is standing less than a yard in front of you then it’s like he’s asking you to stare. He can’t really be upset. It’s like those girls who have ‘Jucie’ written across their asses. Who isn’t going to stop and read that?]

You’re welcome.

[The concern is mostly for her eyes but she manages to keep that thought to herself.]

So are you going to be walking around in your boxers when it’s really hot because I think some people might have issues with that. [Clary isn’t sure if she’d claim to be one of them. There isn’t any harm in looking.]

may 3rd

[abnormalsadist]

[Gladio is going to hear an appreciative whistle as he walks past. A teenager with his hands stuck in his pockets is beaming at him. He even takes one hand out to wiggle his fingers at him if and when Gladio looks over.]

You're going to give the rest of us a run for our money in that getup.

[dadiolus]

( okay, that whistle? it definitely gets his attention, because while he's sure to be familiar with the feel of eyes on him when he goes out like this — he really is allergic to shirts, really — he doesn't think he's ever been whistled at before, and it garners a look that is little more than a raised eyebrow. maybe a bit of a smirk. )

Yeah? Why's that? ( oh, he has to hear this. he really does. )

[abnormalsadist]

[Tucking his hands in his pocket again, Shiba walks over and peers upwards. ]

Three words. Tall, dark, and handsome.

three; may 4th, screw ur brownies

[chauffeuring]

[ ignis has managed to go the few days without realizing that gladio was in town, too busy working and keeping half an eye on prompto to even be out much. so when he finally finds himself with a fraction of free time, ignis opts to hit the coffee place if only so he can tell people that he's not working for once. (there's nothing wrong with making sure a business stays afloat whilst trying to figure out this place. it's been months and they're still no closer.)

gladio isn't hard to miss with such an imposingly large figure and the moment ignis spots him he walks straight on over. finally, back up.]

You took your time.

brownies are overrated anyway

[dadiolus]

( he's been making his rounds, ( re ) familiarizing himself with the place as best he can, even if things still feel a bit fuzzy around the edges even as time wears on. it may be a good thing that he's unaware of having kept anyone waiting, and when ignis sidles up to him, there's little more than the smallest, almost infinitesimal flicker of something in his expression. something that might be acknowledgment, but is cut off before it reaches anything worthwhile.

he clears his throat, offers what he hopes is a good enough grin for his trouble. ) Didn't know I was keepin' anybody waitin'.

bring on the cakes

[chauffeuring]

[ wait, was gladio being serious? ignis stares for a moment longer, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as his mind races. this place is known for messing with memories and all and the only conclusion ignis even comes to is that he really should have known better. now he has to tread carefully.]

My mistake, I mistook you for someone else.

[ it's the safest option for now. explaining anything out in the open will only get them both in trouble.]

tumbles in to fuck everything up ( may 4 )

[failtography]

( the days after his and aranea's revelation have come and disappeared in a haze, and the bake sale would've gone largely unnoticed if not for the enthusiastic reminders from the neighbours when prompto takes the the chocobo outside for some fresh air. nothing can beat what ignis makes for sure, but sweets are a rare indulgence on the adviser's part and the gunner figures that a bit of a walk outside might help the mood nonetheless.

miss fluffles is left home this time in case there's too much of a crowd for the tiny chick to withstand, and now with a figure that's all too familiar coming into view half a crowd away, prompto's even more glad the chocobo doesn't have to deal with being smooshed as he struggles to filter his way past the mass of human traffic. ) Gladio! Dude, wait up!

why did i think memloss was a good idea i'm just going to be perpetually sad for a while

[dadiolus]

( a walk outside is always a good way to clear one's head — he thinks, he's pretty sure, >whatever — and given the current state of disarray he can't quite get himself out of, it's really only logical to come to the conclusion that sitting around in a house that still feels weird despite the memories that come with it isn't going to do him any good, and fresh air? that's never bad for anyone.

however.

he hears the call of his name, but the voice that gives it doesn't sound at all familiar. still, he turns all the same, brows furrowing and drawing together in such a way that he couldn't possibly manage to look more perplexed than he is. he squints, and even though his gaze briefly passes over the small blond pushing his way through the crowd, it doesn't register.

sorry, kid. :< )

but pain is good so enjoy it?? also considering our discussion I guess this thread just got worse

[failtography]

( the lack of a response does little to faze him; it's impossible to mistake the outline of someone so distinct that prompto is entirely sure of who he's calling to, and the sheer elation at seeing another truly familiar face in this town serves to completely drown out any consideration that the shield might still be experiencing the same form of amnesia that everyone else has suffered.

closing the gap takes a while, especially since it's a one-sided effort, but the blond manages eventually, reaching out to grasp at a shoulder - and for a moment he forgets that they aren't in eos, that this could very well be the market in lestallum. ) Whoa, big guy - slow down, will ya?