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
Size nine was a pair of worn, gray oxfords with somewhat frayed laces and ridiculously chunky heels that wouldn't look out of place in a 90's Grunge mag. He places the pair down between them, toes facing away from Aloy.
"A guy I spoke to before didn't even know his own name after he woke up." Tilting his head up at her, his avian teal eyes slant slightly in a tentative, alien smile. "You're doing pretty alright."
Leaving her to figure out the shoes, he turns back to the pile to dig out some pants and shirt to go with it. She will note that none of the clothes were particularly Turian-appropriate either.
no subject
"I don't feel like I'm doing all right," Aloy says, a little wry, "but thanks." She puts on the other shoe and steps over beside him, also looking at the pile, but she gives him a little sideways glance. "You weren't expecting to find other Turians here, were you?"
no subject
Another thing to add to the long list of discrepancies about this place, really.
"There's other non-humans about, but they tend to be one-offs too." And then, muttered somewhat resentfully under his breath, "And also, way more human looking."
Do you like acid-washed jeans, Aloy? Because Lantar is currently holding up a very fine pair of acid-washed jeans right now. The tag was snipped off by its previous owner, so he's trying to eyeball her size here.
no subject
Being lonely feels familiar, in a way she can't really put her finger on, not yet, so her sympathy is genuine. If he's the only one, he must stand out in a way that can't always be comfortable. Aloy is perfectly aware that she didn't exactly have the best reaction to seeing Lantar in the first place, and that couldn't have helped any.
Acid-washed jeans look good to her, though, and they probably fit well enough to get her home, wherever that may be. She reaches out to take them from him with a grim sort of smile.
no subject
Another shrug, but Lantar doesn't add anything else to the matter. There's a hissing, seething little part of him coiled under the blood soaked memories of Omega that's pretty sure loneliness was the least of what he deserves.
That's not the kind of shit you air out to people though- doubly so when everything you do and every word you say was being monitored. Triply so considering Aloy had problems of her own to sort out.
"If you're feeling good enough to leave, just go to the front desk and tell 'em." As he talks, he rummages through the box, picking out shirts that looked like they're fit her. "They'll be too stressed out to tell you 'no'. Everyone's pretty overworked with all the new patients to look after. You'll get your house keys and stuff from the Sheriff's and there's a map of the town near the front of the station."
There's a blue sequinned party shirt, a parrot-print, red Hawaiian button up and a grey band tank with a Backstreet Boys album cover on it. Lantar holds them up for her too.
"Fancy any one of these? If not, there's a couple others in there, but they're some sizes up."
no subject
She will probably wear this shirt in the future. She will almost certainly wear it in future.
"This will do," she says. "Thanks." Because he doesn't have to do this, and she knows it, and she's definitely glad to not be faced with wandering outside wearing a hospital gown. This entire situation is unsettling enough as it is without being barely more than naked. Aloy takes a deep breath, hugging this odd assortment of clothing against her. "Is there anything I can do to pay you back?"
no subject
Pausing in the middle of stuffing the unchosen tops away, he glances at Aloy over his cowl at her question.
"Just... stay out of trouble."
It's not a command, despite his best efforts to make it one. More of a plea.
She doesn't look the sort to just let things be. She has the same fire in her eyes that Garrus had, the will to change things. The will to fight, despite the odds. Because of the odds.
He remembers is how it'd all ended.
Suppressing a shudder, Lantar turns back and hauls the box up, trying to hide the sudden, sickly unease that'd settled under his sternum.
"... If you need anything else, I'm gonna be around here for a while yet. Gotta sort the rest of this out."
no subject
But Aloy takes a deep breath, and she nods a little. "I'll try," she says, and that's as much of a promise as anyone is going to get from her on this point. If she needs to break the rules, so be it, and these don't seem like good rules to follow. Maybe she can play along, though.
"Don't talk about anything weird, even if it seems like it's an important thing to talk about. Okay. Thanks for the clothes and the advice, then."
no subject
It gets interrupted by clicking footsteps, a receptionist arriving on the scene. Despite her ragged appearance, she greets Lantar with some cheer.
Casting Aloy one last look, he then turns to start discussing what potential clothing supplies were still needed.