pineslog | (may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

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(may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cassian opens his mouth to deny being sentimental - he's creating foundations here, damn it all, things for her to recall later when she's done remembering all the reasons she has to be angry with him, to be angry with being here - and then he catches what she doesn't say, how she corrects herself without realizing the truth behind it and his nostrils flare.

For a moment he's just stuck, staring at her, before he shuts his eyes. "Alright." He can't argue with her, can he? He knows she's not alright. He knows more than she does, right now, and he hates how it keeps coming back to that.

The harbinger of death. How does the Force move around those that have been reintroduced to the life cycle unnaturally?

"Alright," he repeats, and tries to let some of the tension out of his shoulders.

"Alright," she agrees.

Jyn isn't good at comfort, she doesn't need memories to know that she is garbage at comfort. Somehow she doesn't think punching him in the arm as if to say 'buck up, chum' would have any use.

Instead, silently, she reaches across him and catches the hand not resting on her chair, threading her fingers through his until her fingertips brush his knuckles. It's not the most comfortable, but she doesn't remember the last time being all that comfortable for either of them either.

She may not feel she's good at comfort, and honestly, the suckerpunch to the gut Cassian experiences at the feeling of her fingers between his own isn't exactly comforting, per se - if anything, it is likely the death knell of there being any chance of him being sober come tomorrow - but it does steady him.

Whatever the hell happens, even if Jyn hates him once she does remember, this is not...terrible. She's here.

So he squeezes, a little, before lifting his other hand from the chair and brushing his fingertips against her forehead.

Sentimental. Perhaps.

Edited 2017-05-04 06:40 (UTC)

Jyn likes to think she's strong, she's survived a lot, she's managed a lot, apparently all by the age of twenty one. Strength became a survival instinct, a protective armor around herself and here is Cassian worming his way in again. She'd thought she would have remembered more than bits and pieces by the time she ran into him, so her lack of knowledge would be irrelevant, but here she is, trapped only with a feeling.

Peace is absolutely foreign and when Jyn feels it lapping at her like warm waves on the shore, she tries her best to ignore it. Looking away, so to speak, even as she keeps looking up at Cassian.

Her voice betrays the cracks in her armor, low and threaded through with discomfort of the perceived weakness, even as she keeps hold of his hand like it's an anchor keeping her safely from floating out into sea. "I will throw you into space if you keep this up."

His nostrils flare again, because memories or not it's such a quintessentially Jyn thing to say that Cassian can't even find it within himself to be angry about it. They never had time, and it's unfamiliar in its mundanity, so Cassian lets his fingers brush against her cheek while he's at it.

"You say that like I wouldn't just drag you out there with me." Raising his eyebrows. "You might have to get used to it."

But he lets his hand drop anyway. (Not the one she's holding on to; that one's not going anywhere.)

Jyn is stuck halfway between wanting to close her eyes at the touch and wanting to jerk away from the otherness of it but it is over so fast she doesn't have the chance to do either. Her hand stays rooted in his as she looks up at him, mouth slanting to the side in faint uncertainty. She doesn't have the context for this, she can't make any educated guesses when she has three vague facts at her disposal.

Cassian is her friend. They fought together. He is the last thing she remembers. She can't solve for X in that equation, too many variables are missing and while the warmth in her chest is no doubt affection for her dear friend and compatriot, she doesn't know if that's it. And she will not ask.

Instead she pulls a face at him. "Are you satisfied with my injuries now?" Forehead, cheek, she knows where her visible abrasions are, she knows Cassian knows now too, even if it was unintentional.

He tilts his head to the side. "Not really, if we're being honest, but you won't let me bother you about the rest of them." Especially here, in public. Especially with gaps in her memories.

Because they are being honest. Right? Right. Cassian would like to think they are. As it is, he lets his thumb graze across her knuckles on the hand holding his own.

"No, I won't," she agrees, giving him a determined look, a put upon glower. She wants to avoid her injuries, she can deal with them when she remembers what the hell happened in the first place. Right now she just wants to aggressively pop headache tablets and figure out a way to sleep without waking up with pain shooting through her shoulder.

"Just-- Later." He can fuss and badger her later.

"I'm going to hold you to that," he warns...softly, or at least he hopes so, because he never got the chance before. They didn't have time and now they're here with nothing but; part of Cassian doesn't think he could let the opportunity pass to just be there for her even if it weren't a fancy amnesiac's prison-town.

"It's okay to need people." A beat. "I'm saying that for both of our benefits."

"You know I don't do people." It's an automatic remark, more avoidance. Anyone could see Jyn isn't a people person considering the only person she can stand being around for longer than ten minutes is the man she's sitting next to right now.

But she squeezes his hand slightly, not enough to jostle the smooth movement of his thumb, just enough to act as an admission of her possible agreement. She's not one to voice what she needs or wants, so she still doesn't. She just maybe silently agrees.

"You're afraid, aren't you? Of whatever it is I can't remember."

"I know." Still. He's made friends here, people he hopes they both can trust. Yet extending that offer in the moment seems like a bad idea, or at least a poorly executed one. So when she squeezes his hand, he decides to take that as a sign that there's room for other people in their complicated little matrix of trust. She just needs time to get her sense of self settled.

"Yes." Mostly he's afraid that it will hurt, which he can't mitigate at all, and that she'll hate him, which is silly and selfish in the bigger picture.

Maybe there is room for Poe and his brother, she can make room for family. Everyone else will be baby steps.

With gentle insistence, she tugs on his hand, leading him to move closer behind her so her arm isn't stretched so far just to hold his hand and also so it isn't so obvious that she is holding his hand. This isn't for other people.

"I hope you aren't trying to be comforting." Because if so he needs a whole hell of a lot of work. Damn. But she seems to be... half teasing.

He moves, easily and without pause or question. He wishes they were inside. He wishes they weren't here, in this bizarre and over-observed situation, and there's a pressure in his chest again while he considers the likelihood of that happening anytime soon.

They obviously got them here. Somehow. Wherever here is. (Earth, maybe, which is immediately followed by the thought who names their planet 'dirt'?) Does that mean they could leave? The logistics of it aren't even a reality for him and they're already giving him a headache.

"No, just honest." A half-smile. "I only know how to be comforting with lies and brutal honesty."

"Still one up on me. My idea of comforting is... non-existent." She could barely function in a conversation with Poe, whom she has no emotional ties to, she can only imagine the clusterfuck that would be Jyn trying to comfort someone she considers a dear friend.

She apologize for any past failings but she doesn't believe in apologies.

"There's reasons for that, I'm sure." A bit of a lip twitch. He knows a collection of facts and has seen how they've shaped the person whose hand he holds, but it's not like Jyn had time to tell him the details...at any point, really. "No one's really going to judge."

If they do, well. They're clearly not worth the time worrying about it.

"I suppose I could always blame my parents, no one would be able to tell me otherwise." Her mother died when she was so young her friends had never even gotten to meet her and she thinks maybe Bodhi or Cassian had something to do with her father, but he's gone too.

Cassian is the only person that know anything about her. ...And BB-8.

"Poe's droid knows me."

"Poe's droid knows about Rogue One." He knows his history, Cassian doesn't say, because that would probably lead to having to explain or having to defer and neither is ideal at the moment.

"When you remember more...probably a good idea to talk to BB-8, fill in details we otherwise missed." Until then it'll be an exercise in frustration.

"I don't speak droid," Jyn bites out, mouth pressing into a line with thinly veiled annoyance. If she did, she would have understood all of what he had jabbered out when he'd heard her name. It's already an exercise in frustration.

"And Poe said he's not supposed to talk about it." More correctly Poe said Cassian told the little droid not to say anything, but Jyn doesn't need to point that out.

Well. That's his fault, isn't it, but then again in the moment Cassian isn't sure that Jyn would do well with hearing after your sacrifice on Scarif as a primer to her life and the ripple effect it's had on how history continued afterward. He can't bring himself to regret it too much.

"He can talk about it later, when things aren't so...up in the air. With what Poe remembers, with what you remember." Because Cassian is well-aware who told the droid not to speak on the subject, thanks.

Yeah no, IT WAS A GOOD CALL ALTOGETHER.

"Poe's not going to be my translator so it's going to have to wait anyway," she complains, still half frowning. Why can't BB-8 just speak Basic. Er. English. Whatever.

"Are all of your family this stubborn?"

"I can translate for you. Or you can learn Compressed Basic?" That might be six of one, half dozen of the other, but you never know.

This conversation does solidify that Jyn knew he was here before he knew she was here. Seems only fair, all things considered (it scares him, honestly, and there's not much he can do with that beyond notice it and move on.)

"Probably. All my family here is, anyway."

Cassian called is basic too! Okay, well, that's cool, she's not going insane. She huffs out a breath, puffing her bangs out, lifting her free hand to rub at her forehead again.

Why does she feel like she's being included in that pool of stubbornness?

Still, she tries to settle herself again. It's not Cassian, it's just the whole frustration at not knowing anything. She has no context for anything so everything feels out of place. "Must run in the family."

"It gets..." Better? Easier? Neither of those are true, per se, and Cassian sighs a little. "I'm sorry this is happening the way it is. Not exactly what I would have hoped for. I know it's frustrating, but...give it some time?"

At least they have time, now.

"I will." A beat, solemn mouth turning wry. "I will try."

She isn't sure she can give it time, but she can try. That's all she can promise right now. Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow will all her memories and she'll deal with it and it would be awesome. She doesn't think that would be the case, not with her life.

"How do you say thank you in... whatever you speak."

What starts as a lip twitch blooms in a moment to a complete smile; it seems modest, as if his expressions are capable of much more but have simply decided this is far enough.

"Gracías." Serving the dual purpose of its translation and answering her question. He even sounds it out for her. "Grah-zse-ahzs."

(may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

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