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.
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pineslog2017-04-30 08:52 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
no subject
They're as twisted in their way as the First Order. Cameras, fake memories, amnesia, control. They need to be brought down. That's something he can act on, something he can change.
He can't fix this for her, but he can make sure it doesn't happen to more of them. He looks down at their linked hands, gritting his teeth until his jaw twitches. He has to take a second to keep himself from snapping out rash promises or referencing old conversations.
"They won't get away with it."
He reciprocates the gentle squeeze, heart hurting for a woman he's barely met and knows intimately. "Maybe we can get to know each other again, for real."
no subject
"I'd like that," she said, honestly. If only because she has so many memories of him and she's curious as to how he might compare to the man of her memories. She wonders what he might know about her, how much he might remember and if any of it is accurate in any way.
"Considering I think we've seen each other naked already."
no subject
"Here's hoping I didn't disappoint."
Nope.
Nope.
Think of engine grease in your eye. Think of scrubbing toilets. Think of anything but naked Caroline Forbes.
no subject
She shifts on her feet, glancing at his helmet before looking at him. "Maybe we can meet for coffee some time? You know, like how friendly exes are supposed to?"
no subject
He's incredibly grateful for that fuzziness, and for the fact that--at least around memories of intimacy--it isn't lifting. It's bad enough to have a memoryscape that isn't real, to have memories of her and of himself that never happened. To violate the privacy of a woman he's never met before tonight would be unforgivable. Even if it isn't his doing.
He exhales like he's just taken a strafing run and pulled up alive. "Yeah. That'd be good, I think. I'd like that."
no subject
She presses her lips together and nods, offering him a gentle smile before glancing back down. "I guess I should probably..." Tilting her head towards the front door, she points her thumb at it too, to indicate she should probably head out. They both probably needed some time to process, to wrap their brains around what just happened.
no subject
Because that's what people do, right? That's what people do. Walk people to doors, which are easily within their line of sight and not difficult to open.
Politeness is weird.
BB-8 makes a noise that indicates the little droid thinks this entire situation is weird, and Poe can't argue.
It's hard not to take her hand as he moves toward the foyer. It feels instinctual, like something he's done a thousand times, and that familiarity gives him the shudders. The desire to kiss her goodnight is equally instinctual.
He staves it off, this time.
Hand on the doorknob, he pauses. "I don't know how to reach you."
no subject
Except it's not.
This is her and him, strangers, standing at the front door, her eyes on the droid, the doorknob and then his face as he speaks. "I'm in the phone book. Caroline Forbes." It feels weird, saying that about a phone book, not just exchanging cell phone numbers. Her eyes flicker to his lips, briefly. "I live alone."
no subject
He hates the thought of anyone being alone.
"If you don't want to leave, I've got plenty of space." What a stupid thing to stay. Quickly, he adds, "I don't mean anything by it, either. You can stay in one of the empty rooms, leave in the morning, don't have to say two words to me between now and then."
Poe closes his eyes and lets out a breath of a laugh. "Sorry, that's a terrible idea."
no subject
She laughs softly, with him, moving to lay a hand on his shoulder. "No, it's not terrible... I just don't know if it's a good idea." Couldn't he feel that? The pull? If she stayed, it would be harder to ignore it and who knew what would happen? It might make things messier than they already are. She leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, it's gentle and chaste (and yet it's not entirely that). "Thank you, Damn-o-man."
no subject
Except he didn't. And he won't. Because he doesn't do this kind of thing. He doesn't let himself, he has other things to focus on, he can't be what she deserves because the minute that siren goes off he's heading for his X-wing and his isn't a fight she signed up for.
When he opens his eyes she's right there, a breath away. Poe swallows and fights again the instinct to turn his head just that wee little bit and catch her lips before she moves back again. He tries to say he's sorry, though he's not sure for what at this point. It's uncomfortable, being willing to be under someone else's influence in this way. It's unearned.
That doesn't make it easier to find something to say.
no subject
"I should go," she murmurs, not moving away from him. She'll chide herself later for how cliche this all is, how she's basically living the plot of some Hugh Jackman/Meg Ryan romcom but when it happens, she can't help herself. It's selfish and unfair, just like it had been with Klaus (okay not as bad as that but she doesn't remember that whole thing, yet).
Because he doesn't move away, he doesn't push the door open or say anything at all, he just slowly opens those bedroom eyes of his and she can't help herself, the Caroline who was in love with him pushes her forward, has her fingers curl against his shoulder, her hand covering his at the door handle before she close the distance between their lips and kisses him.
no subject
Open the door, Poe. Open the door, Poe. Tell her what a bad idea this is.
BB-8, he thinks, is garbage as a chaperone.
He's got his fingers twined between hers. Hand's off the knob, that's no good. Other hand playing along her jaw, gliding up to cup her ear, fingers teasing gently at her earlobe.
He turns, slowly, putting her back to the wall and pinning their clasped hands against it, giving her lower lip a gentle suck before he breaks off to kiss her neck.
Poe swallows, his lips close enough to her throat to tickle when he speaks. "This is a really, really bad idea, Caroline."
There, a small victory over libido.
no subject
She should leave, she shouldn't like the way it feels to be wedged between the wall and his body. She doesn't know him. Not really. Get out of there, Caroline. But her lip is tingling and he's got his mouth at the exact spot that makes her shiver like he knows her.
Her eyes flutter shut and she lets out a breath, her free hand moving to grip at his lower back, feeling a sense of deja vu. "It's a terrible, no good, awful idea." Caroline has no victory over her libido, a vampire's libido is a lot more stubborn.
no subject
BB-8 whistles an inquiry and Poe laughs quietly, sliding Caroline's hand up the wall until he's got it pinned loosely over her head.
"Go hang out in the bedroom for a while, buddy." He kisses her throat and presses closer, slipping the fingers of his free hand away from her ear and over the lip of her pants. No further, just a bare touch on covered skin as he rubs her inner thigh with the side of his knee.
Few people suspect Poe Dameron of being meticulous at first meeting. They see passion, recklessness, thoughtless action. But when he puts his mind to doing something, he makes sure to do it right.
Apparently, he's put his mind to following through on this terrible, no good, awful idea. News to him, too.
no subject
It doesn't help that she gets flashes of memories in her mind, of his hands do so much more than that and against bare skin. Yeah, Caroline remembers the more meticulous side of Poe, it's coming back to her in bursts as his mouth presses to the sensitive skin of her throat and laughs when he instructs his droid to go away, in so many words.
"He's never seen a kiss before?"
no subject
He pauses, that thought unsettling him enough to break his focus. He's breathing quick. Can feel his pulse in his lips. Poe's grip on her hand eases. "Caroline."
The lies provide him with the image of scooping her up, carrying her to the couch, falling down there together the way they have a dozen times before.
"You just met me. We shouldn't do this." He lets her hand go and lets his fall to his sides.
no subject
The thing is, he's right. And her cheeks feel hot with an embarrassment she shouldn't have to feel but does anyway. "Right," she says it softly, her eyes averting from his as she nods. She moves, slipping out from her position between him and the wall. "Yeah."
Back to the door, except it's her hand on the doorknob now and she's already twisting it open. He's right but it's also that her pride is ridiculously wounded. He's not yours to have, Caroline. And you're not his to leave behind. "You're right."
no subject
Another one. On top of several others.
This is exactly why you don't do things like this, Dameron, one voice says. Another snaps back that this is absolutely not why he doesn't do things like this, there is nothing familiar about this situation at all.
All he knows is that he's hurt her several times in sequence and it's time for this to stop. Never mind that just meeting someone has been a vast deterrent in his past--aha, so he does remember, good for him--but there's too much emotion under the physical pleasure. There's too much won and lost between them already.
"Get home safe," he finally says. He's got nothing else to offer.
no subject
"Thank you," she murmurs, glancing at him before she moves to slide out the door. "I'm sorry." And with that, she closes the door behind her, scrambling down the steps to get back to her own house, actually grateful no one will be there to greet her so she can just... stress clean the whole house.