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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
officialnotice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-04-30 08:52 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
Carl Grimes | The Walking Dead | Various Dates | OTA
Carl knows something is missing when he woke up. He paws at his bandage covering most of his face, groaning at his throat being dry. A nurse comes in, speaking to Carl in soothing tones, explaining that there was a car accident, he lost his eye from it, he was very lucky to have survive at all, he lost so much blood: so on and so forth, and Carl can only look at her with eyes that are distant and suspicious, ice blue eyes laced wth coldness. His body is so stiff nurses couldn't do their work, and all the while, he doesn't say a word. He's not sure if he could really speak, not really. Silence is easy for Carl.
Sneaking out is not so easy, not when he's trying to navigate in a busy hospital hall with only one eye. Several times he got caught going out. Fifth time, he managed to sneak out, but it was approaching nightfall when he did. By that time, the townspeople were closing shop or getting back home. In his hospital clothes, stiff legged and half-blind, Carl walks down the road.
He overheard someone saying people who got sent to the hospital had their things taken and are being held by the police department, waiting for the owners to claim them. Without any better option, he heads toward there, thinking maybe the clothes he wore during the crash might help him jog his memory. A long short, probably.
A fierce looking teenager at night with only one eye and wearing hospital clothes walking around at night, however, makes a lot of townsfolk nervous, like they can tell that something is wrong with him but are too polite to say it. Perhaps they are right - Carl is in no mood to be friendly.
May 2 - May 4
Carl feels like he's being targeted. Perhaps it is because he's living in a part of town where there are nice houses and in the middle of it is a rather plain, small trailer that Carl is assigned in. It makes him feel like there extra eyes are on him for that oddity alone, like how dare he be so unusual in both appearance and in dwelling.
For that, he doesn't stay in the trailer other than sleeping. It's so empty there, it's unnatural. Like he wasn't made to be alone. Like he wasn't supposed too. He recalls of a time where he's always with a group, but he doesn't remember their faces. Or their names. The idea that he can't remember anything out of that horrifies him, but he can't put on why it is terrible in the first place. It's only when he found a bag and start putting in things - a small box of medicine, a spare shirt, a knife from the kitchen - does he found comfort in such a routine. Like getting ready to move at any time is more normal to Carl than living in a nice house in this neighborhood.
Which is why he goes downtown, to get food and some supplies. Food, mostly. But also to see what kind of stuff he might get from the stores in case of emergencies. Again, he doesn't know why he needs to think like that, but it feels urgent to know such things. And comforting at the same time. He goes past the various stores, each with their own charm. Crossbones Boxing, Go Ask Alice, The Vinyl Destination, so on: stores and complexes Carl might need to go to one day.
He'll go into one store, looking around and blinking. What to people do in this kind of store? He has no idea, and he's blocking the entrance.
May 5
It's the free food that called Carl out of whatever remote corner of the town he was hiding in at the time. He's insecure of the crowds gathering, and he's less then enthusiastic at the idea that he might have to go to school there soon - there's just too much stuff Carl is willing to handle. Maybe he'll try to get a job somewhere instead.
He's been picking out a blue-topped cupcake with yellow star sprinkles when he bumps into someone. It was bound to happen, with him being half blind, but it's still annoying when he collided so hard he dropped his cupcake to the ground, where bugs almost immediately attacked it. Carl has a rare moment of being disappointed. Now he will have to buy another cupcake.
[ Want another starter? Want to hash something else out (Carl has no fake memories of this place fyi)? PM this journal or message me on plurk at
i have no clue how long this thread'll last but it must be done
She wishes she could understand.
She is dead-set on getting in the place, but Carl has decided to stand in the way of the door.
............................
............................
............................
She lightly kicks the back of his knee. Hey. Quítate de mi camino, homie.
no subject
He turned his head around to pin his one eye on whoever it was that kicked him - oh. Just a kid. Figures. He's gotten used to kids pointing and gaping at him and his bandaged face, especially those closer to age with him. He feels a little wary of them himself, but he has a feeling that the real reason is not the most typical of teenager reasons. If only he can remember it.
Carl shuffled away, uncomfortable in the bright settings of this place. It's definitely not a place he would hang out on his own, that's for sure. He sits down at the chair where he nearly collides in, looking at what people normally buy here.
no subject
By the time she wanders back by, she stops where he is, taking in his bewildered look.
Then she tosses a wrapped cookie on the table without a word.
For you, door-blocker.
no subject
"Um. . . thanks." He said. Is it okay to thank to someone while they are walking away from you?
no subject
"De nada."
She can't remember having friends. Other younger people, like her. Maybe she should...
And yet, all she feels is that she doesn't fit with the child population here.
She turns and walks.
May 4th
With her thoughts completely consumed by the mundane Clary stepped into the back of Carl, her head slapping against his shoulder blade before she stumbled backwards. It took all of her effort not to fall on her ass.
She looked up at him, blinking and confused. She didn't actually know who was at fault. "Oh, sorry." She mumbled looking very concerned. Clary wanted to tell him that she didn't usually run into people but she knew that wasn't true. She's been more of a space case lately and it's all because of that stupid box.
no subject
That said, he at least he knew how to say sorry as well. Sometimes. He stumbled, gathered his momentum and his balance. He shuffled his feet, knowing that half the time people will look on in concern about his lack of eye. "It's okay."
no subject
"I don't really think it's usually okay to run into someone." She pointed out, realizing to late that she was telling him that he should be more upset with her.
no subject
no subject
"Let me just buy you a coffee. Think of it as an I'm sorry for prolonging this conversation longer than it had to be."
no subject
What's the worst that can happen?
no subject
"What do you want?" She asked turning back to Carl. Maybe she could live vicariously through whatever he got.
sorry for the late!
He's not sure.
"A cupcake?"
He guess? Maybe?
SO AM I!
no subject
no subject
It didn't take long to get the cupcake which she promptly passed over to Carl and then her coffee which she clung to as if it was a life line. "I love coffee. So how is it?"
no subject
"It's nice," he said, taking another bite.
no subject