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
"My air of intrigue, huh." A thousand watts of delight about this. "I've always wanted one of those. Who knew all I had to do to get it was a mysterious face first collision with some entity I--totally can't remember."
Which is, despite the solidarity (or possibly because of it; he's so bad at letting himself accept that kind of thing no matter how freely it's offered)--just a little too much vulnerability, the tiny hairline fracture in that sentence. So he grips the segue in both hands even if that's only more confusing; at least it's considerably less shitty.
"I'd be surprised if you didn't, they're always running off." Like Eliot lifts sofa cushions or opens his silverware drawer to find ascots, not that that's actually all that implausible. Anyway. He smiles again, lashes dipping over easy eye contact, though this is more testing the waters than anything else: "Why don't you hang on to them? I always like an excuse to drop by."
--that's. True, he realizes as he says it, or at least he remembers it being true. Then again he also has a Year and a Half worth of--of life stuff jockeying for space in his head, and Eliot isn't sure he could commit to a magazine subscription for a year and a half, let alone a person.
no subject
So there's no reason to press about the accident and the memory loss that surely accompanies it. Dwelling on it when there's nothing to be done about those missing memories (they'll return on their own, when they want, and not a moment sooner, as he well knows from experience) is only a recipe for wallowing in gloom and frustration. While that may be Jefferson's chosen pastime, it doesn't have to be anyone else's.
(They're both given to wallowing, he remembers now. But Eliot's methods always differed from his own. The two of them were so utterly incapable of coping with the constant shitstorm of life-- Why does he have to remember this now? Can't he hold on to the little joyful lies without anything else complicating them?)
Jefferson draws in a breath, his eyes drawn to the curve of Eliot's lips. "Mm..." he intones, pausing as if he has to actually think about it. Like he wouldn't welcome a visit from Eliot. (Like he wouldn't welcome a visit from anyone after spending twenty-eight years in maddening solitude. If there's one good thing about life in Wayward Pines: he gets to exist in the world again. Or a world, rather.) "You don't have my new address, do you?" He shifts one arm, propping an elbow up on the bar as he leans his chin into the palm of his hand, fingers tapping his jaw. "I might need you to buy me a drink, first."
no subject
"I'll buy you two," he declares, abruptly yanking up an absolutely terrible facade of solemnity, "since you asked so nice." This is a joke, on the grounds that there is no way Eliot or anyone he knows has paid for like, anything since he started working here. Presumably Lantar keeps him around anyway because he is a really good bartender, as per how he starts fussing around for inspiration before he's even really finished talking here. Menu? What menu??
So this thing, meanwhile, is actually fucking called Sex on a Driveway or something, but even Eliot is not using that as an opportunity, as it's too stupidly terrible. For Eliot. And that is saying a lot. The point is that it's delicious, and Eliot spends like ten minutes interacting with the lemon garnish, because that is the kind of mess he turns into when he wants to impress someone.
He slides this down the bar with an actual tiny tada, then returns to perching on his hands by the elbows, watching expectantly.