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
three
He swings his way over to his uncle on his crutches with a wry smile, more than willing to take this little distraction as an excuse to delay heading back to his home for a little while. His own, non-motorized bike is sitting propped against a tree back the way he came, because honestly, walking the thing back to his house from the sheriff's office has proven to be a terrible chore with the crutches so far and he's grateful for whatever break he can find.
"Didn't you just get out of hospital?" Particularly one where he gets to be a hypocrite while chiding the relatives.
no subject
"Alex?" His nephew. (No, no, but how can he pretend not to care?) On crutches. (He can't.) Poe kicks the motorcycle's stand down and swings off of it, beelining for the boy. He puts his hands on Alex's shoulders, looking him over. "You should still be in the hospital."
no subject
Because Poe wasn't wrong of course, the doctors had recommend that he stay at least a couple more days, despite their steady flow of patients, but he'd managed to weasel out of it by promising to come back in for regular check ups until they were satisfied. I'm tired of hospitals sits on his tongue for a moment before he summarily dismisses it as an unnecessary reminder of his apparent clumsiness, and I've had worse quickly joins it in the discard pile.
"I was going stir crazy in there, you know." Is what he eventually settles on, because it's honest enough and, "The hospital staff were tired of finding me in places I wasn't supposed to be."
no subject
"So you're out here, dragging your bike home, on crutches."
It couldn't be clearer what Poe thinks of that set of life choices. It's so baffling to feel so strongly about someone he literally just set eyes on, but he tries to keep Finn in mind. The way they met, those circumstance, the instant bond. As long as he thinks of it that way, and not as someone paging through his mind, writing new sections, it's...
Well, it's not as bad.
"Sit. Or don't, if it's hard to get back up. Lemme take the motorcycle back to my place and I'll come back and help."
no subject
"I wasn't actually expecting to find my bike at the sheriff's office." Alex says, and as excuses go, it's not a great one but it will have to do. "And they all looked too busy for me to ask for help walking it home." ... and standing in the office had made him uneasy for some reason that he wasn't keen to poke too deeply at right now. so he'd left quietly, and struggled through the logistics on his own.
Until now, anyway.
Something warms in Alex at Poe's concern, and the smile he gives the man is full and bright. "But I suppose if it will make you happy, I could wait for you to come back." It goes without saying that it would make Alex happy as well, that's clearly written all over his face.
no subject
It's enough for now. "Don't move."
Back to the bike, away up the street, glancing toward Alex as he rounds the corner. It's one-half to make sure Alex is real, one-half to make sure he's staying put.
BB-8 trills happily when Poe roars up, but the droid's reaction changes when Poe explains where they're going and why. No, BB-8 says, he doesn't have a nephew. His father lives on Yavin 4--
"Tell me later, Bee, all right? Right now, what I know is that Alex is hurt and he's trying to drag a bike home on crutches. Focus on that, tell me the rest later."
Still, it gives him goosebumps, the certainty with which he knows Alex is his nephew and the total belief he has in his droid. Both things can't be true, and BB-8 doesn't belong in a place like this. Poe knows which one he believes, no matter how real his memories feel.
As soon as they're in shouting distance of Alex, he calls out, "You good?"
no subject
And then he takes those moments alone as a chance to gather himself again. Not to analyze, he has a vague impression of where Poe lives and it isn't nearly far enough away for all of that, but enough to compartmentalize, at least. To stow it all away to study later (along with the fact that the word 'uncle' is so unwilling to pass through his teeth).
By the time Poe is shouting over to him, the smile is back with a touch more ease, Alex leaning into the good strong feelings of here and now and refusing to look past that. He nods back in response and then glances at the space around him in an exaggerated manner before shouting back, "The ground doesn't seem to have risen up to trip me in the few minutes you were gone, I think we're safe."
no subject
"Where do you live?"
no subject
"House number 4112, apparently, if that helps any." He says and then pockets the key again to ensure he doesn't lose it while he's busy using both hands on the crutches. Walking all the way back to the sheriff's to request another key doesn't sound like the best use of his day right now.
He gestures vaguely in the direction he'd been walking before stopping to talk to Poe. "I mostly just settled for figuring out which direction the house numbers were decreasing in and hoping I eventually found it."
no subject
Maybe it comes from being a pilot. Maybe it's just a good memory. He's annoyed that he can't say for sure.
"Well, you're heading in the right direction."
Poe takes the lead, making sure to keep their pace slow and steady for Alex's sake. "How's your head?"
no subject
Not that anyone, least of all family, is going to hear any sort of complaint from Alex. Worrying Poe unnecessarily is something he'd rather avoid if possible.
Or, worrying him more, at this point really.
"My head's just fine." Alex says, but doesn't mention how strange that is, considering... "Aside from the memories I'm missing anyway. But I was assured most of those should come back if I just give myself time."
no subject
Alex is a kid. And the feelings that come with knowing him, the protectiveness, keeps Poe quiet for now.
"Here we go--this one."
Tada, a house! Poe looks it over critically. "It doesn't look like anyone is home."
He can't say he approves of Alex's guardians, whoever they might be.
no subject
As they come to a stop outside Alex's house, Alex pauses to fish out his keys again before closing the rest of the distance to the door and quietly letting himself in. Leaving the door slightly ajar should Poe choose to follow him in and tossing an answer for the man over his shoulder in a purposefully light tone.
"I don't live with anyone else."