(may intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

[officialnotice]

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.

Comments

Poe Dameron | Various Dates | Various Locations | Open

[volitaunt]

one: may first;
Poe’s reclamation of his belongings is… interesting. He walks out of the police station in a bright orange jumpsuit, an empty holster and harness around his waist. Under one arm, a flight helmet, lacquered black, with a red insignia he doesn’t recognize, like the blade of an axe—the symbol of the Resistance he doesn’t quite remember being a part of.

All of that, though, isn’t as odd as the droid rolling at his heels, so close that he occasionally bumps into Poe as he walks. The pilot just grins, happy to have one thing that feels right in this extremely surreal, extremely well-monitored place. He glances through storefront windows as they go past them, looking to see if the interiors are as heavily surveilled as the exteriors.

Yeah, even if he hadn’t noticed the cameras, BB-8 hasn’t stopped piping about them since the little droid bumped his way down the police station steps.


two: may second;
It’s dusk, and Poe is sitting on the roof of his giant house. It feels giant, anyway. Five bedrooms including his, not another soul to occupy them. Why on earth he has a place this large, he can’t begin to fathom.

BB-8 rolls back and forth on the walkway leading up to the house, twittering to himself worriedly about the fact that Poe is momentarily out of reach.

Soon enough, the guilt of worrying his droid will call him down from the peak of his roof. But for right now, as stars he doesn’t recognize start to peek out of the darkness, he just needs to be up high.


three: may third or fourth;
There’s a motorcycle in his garage. The garage is where he tells BB-8 to stay, with the promise that he won’t be gone for more than half an hour.

He doesn’t remember ever having flow— driven something like this before, but the controls are so simple a toddler could operate them. He’s out on the road in a trice, not even pausing to close the garage door before zipping toward the emptiest parts of town.

Faster. Faster. Faster. At first it’s great, it’s perfect, feeling the press of gravity and atmosphere. But there’s a limit to it. To the speed he can get up to on these narrow streets, the maneuverability of a vehicle this low-tech.

He swings sideways into a skidding, juddering halt, the stutter of tires on asphalt like putting pressure on a bruise.

Stillness. A crow over cries a warning or a curse and Poe looks up, momentarily hating the animal for reasons he doesn't fully understand.

"Same to you,” he says, under his breath.


four: may fifth;
It’s curiosity more than anything that draws Poe out to the bake sale. He can certainly guess at what a bake sale is, but it’s one thing to guess and another thing to be surrounded by an open air market of confections. There’s something about it that makes him homesick.

As per usual, BB-8 trundles along at his heels, the sight of him making people move out of the way with a speed that Poe can’t understand.

It’s just a droid. And the cutest droid ever at that. BB-8 whistles sadly as yet another someone goes around them in a wide berth.

“They don’t think they’re worthy, buddy, that’s all.” Poe nudges the droid with his foot. “They’ll get used to you.”

They’re going to have to.

four

[abetment]

Where there are events, one will always find Katherine. The wardrobe she's accumulated in town will never outshine what she has at her disposal back home, but it's suitable enough. Always dark, too, which may be off-putting to the soccer moms that abound? Whatever. She's in dark, tight pants, black boots, and a royal blue top. Somehow, she hasn't seen this...spherical doodad roaming about anywhere else, yet.

She spots someone moving to avoid it and the, oh pretty hot, guy that. Talks to it? Approaching him needs to happen, obviously.

Walking smoothly up beside him, "Hey." A lingering look down his form, meeting his eyes with a soft smile that turns into a little grin. "Do you always speak in full sentences to objects that can't answer back?" Playful! It's not a very polite comment but it's a valid question, at least to her.

[volitaunt]

BB-8 makes a sound that can only be considered the digital equivalent of a raspberry. Poe laughs, crouching next to the droid to knock his knuckles lightly against BB-8's head dome.

"That's rude." He looks up at Katherine, his hooked smile saying that yes, he noticed that once-over. "He can answer back. His name's Beebee-Ate, he speaks compressed binary, and apparently so do I."

three

[bearswitness]

Poe isn't alone when he skids to a stop. Someone has taken note of his noisy entrance. He may not have been noticed right away, Eshkol is a silent man who tends to blend in right up until he's suddenly noticed, but his piercing orange eyes have definitely landed on the newcomer to his little zone. He had been sunbathing — that is, sitting on the lid of a dumpster and enjoying the sunlight, for which he's been starved lately — but now he's something else.

He'd been gearing up to be all irritated about this noisy intrusion, until he'd realized he has no idea what sort of thing this guy just rode in on. So it is that he hops down from his perch, a tall and utterly silent man (his feet don't even sound on the pavement, though he's not walking with any particular care toward stealth) with his scarf pulled up to his nose despite the lack of chill. His eyes are solidly on the bike.

[volitaunt]

The orange eyes don't disturb him. The scarf, even the silence, don't strike him as anything particularly odd. Remembered or not, Poe is used to aliens and alien worlds.

The only thing that sets him on edge is the approach, and the focus on his bike. He's expecting attempted thievery, and he didn't bring any kind of defensive weapon.

"Can I help you with something, pal?"

two

[realists]

Jyn shouldn't be running, she doesn't have to be a doctor to know that. Her ankle is twinging with every pace but she sucks it up and ignores it because honestly it still hurts less than her head and her shoulder so, in the end, it's irrelevant. She'd checked out of the hospital against medical advice, she will run against medical advice. Anything to avoid going back to her empty home.

Night is falling fast enough that Jyn has to squint in the swaths of darkness between the street lamps and at first she completely misses the tiny droid pacing back and forth on the walkway. A doleful mechanical coo makes her pause, however, turning back to catch BB-8 turning back up the walkway toward the sidewalk.

There's some thread of familiarity but only enough to make her head twinge, discomfort making her rub the heel of her hand roughly against the abrasions at her hairline. They'd assured her it was just an effect of the brain injury, something about a concussion, headaches and flashes and come back if you black out or show anything on this massive list of symptoms. They didn't assure her they knew how frustrating it would be.

Still, she moves back the few paces and crouches in front of the droid she doesn't know is a droid. It's as small as a child and all alone, she feels a compulsion.

"What are you doing here?"

[volitaunt]

BB-8 lets out a flood beeps and chirrups which basically amount to "Poe doesn't remember anything and now he's on the roof."

"All right, all right," Poe calls. "I'm getting down, buddy."

The droid gives a victory trill and shoots away up the walkway as Poe makes his way down from the peak of the roof to the ladder he positioned against the front of the house. He could have made the climb himself on a normal day, but not with the lingering stiffness and full-body ache that followed him from the hospital.

He leads BB-8 back down the sidewalk to Jyn, offering her a handshake. "BB-8's a little twitchy right now."

The droid chimes in protest, making a circuit around Jyn and Poe before settling in next to his owner.

one;

[ouzel]

Poe peers in the windows of Go Ask Alice just as Cassian is coming around the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands; the movement catches his eye so of course he looks, but in the next moment the coffee sits forgotten while Cassian crosses the dining area, coming up on the door and pulling it open quickly enough to set the bell jangling.

"Did you just get out of the hospital?" Because Cassian knows Poe, knows he's reckless and cocky and open in a way that Cassian just cannot manage (or at least never has) and along with that warm familiarity that rings familia (and damn these dead drops in his head, now he wants a drink) there's a bit of shock at two things in particular:

1. the uniform
2. and the droid

"You guys should come in." He'll even hold the door for you! And BB-8, whom Cassian gives a smile.

[volitaunt]

Cassian already gets points for smiling at BB-8. And he's made Poe curious. So into Go Ask Alice he walks, BB-8 at his heels, whistling a greeting.

"Yeah, why?"

He grins at Cassian. "Is spotting medbay escapees a hobby of yours?"

Poe doesn't notice the tweak in his language, the fact that he says medbay instead of hospital. He's more concerned with watching BB-8 roll around the perimeter of the shop, chiming back about the minimal levels of technology present.

The droid rolls back over to them, tilting its head dome back to peer up at Cassian and sound off about the man's weapon. Poe glances at BB-8 then back at Cassian, surprised and somehow reassured.

Weapons are normal. Expected, even. A new bit of knowledge about himself.

one!

[indecisions]

Rey actually follows them for a few streets.

Not because of the man, he doesn't so much as cause a flicker of recognition, but the little droid rolling by his feet certainly does. The more she sees the droid the more she can feel it, the itch of familiarity, and to scratch it -- well. To scratch it she just keeps following him until she figures out why the hell the little orange and white robot is so familiar to her.

It's about three streets before she puts a name to the droid, and she announces her presence a little while behind the pair with a rather loud, "BB-8!"

The droid had brought her to someone important, she knows that. She can remember him, remember his face and his name and the annoying way he kept holding her damn hand, but why was he important? What were they resisting? It's a question for another day. Now she's rushing in to close the gap between them instead.

[volitaunt]

Poe turns as someone calls BB-8's name, surprised, expecting someone the two of them have already met.

This girl is definitely not one of the people he's already met. BB-8, for his part, gives an excited trill and starts rolling toward Rey as fast as he can. Poe jogs after him, bemused and amused.

"Buddy, wait up. Who is it?"

Rey, apparently. And this time BB-8 isn't giving out his usual burst of information along with the name. Maybe the little droid took Cassian's advice to heart, Poe thinks.

"So," he says, when he's close enough for Rey to hear him easily. "You two know each other."

two.

[coy]

In some way, Caroline isn't surprised to see Poe up on the roof of his house (or rather a house, given that he never actually lived here, permanently). He always seemed to be reaching for the sky, since the day she'd met him. Or... had she met him?

Upon seeing him, her mind is flooded with memories that have her stopping in her tracks. Hands held. Laughter. Popcorn and late night car rides. The air warm and sticky around them as he twirled her on the makeshift dance floor at the 4th of July picnic. Stolen kisses and fireflies. She's warm with it, it brings a smile to her face, for a moment. Then she remembers the fight, the heartache. It'd been a fling but it could have been more, someday, if he hadn't insisted on ending things.

She looks up at him and feels breathless and yet, Caroline Forbes has always a pretty damn good ex-girlfriend. "Damn-o-man--" she says the nickname she'd teasingly called him once, loud enough that he could hear her. "As I live and breathe," she murmurs in her best Scarlet O'Hara impression.

[volitaunt]

BB-8 stops his trek to the door and back, giving an inquiring trill. Her voice brings Poe out of his reverie, tugs him away from a half-formed memory of a different sky.

It's Caroline.

He's sliding down the roof before he realizes he's decided to do it, catching the gutter with both hands and making the short drop to the grass instead of climbing down the ladder that he positioned against the roof for that purpose. Not once does he feel the danger, or feel like he might hurt himself. He knows what he's doing, because he's done things like it a thousand times.

What things? That verges frustratingly out of his grasp.

But he knows that voice. It makes him feel warm, the knowledge, and that warmth spins out a dozen more memories into what's only been empty space until now.

BB-8 whistles in confusion, but for once, Poe ignores him. His focus is entirely on the blonde on the sidewalk.

"Caroline." BB-8 whistles another question and Poe glances down at the droid. "Caroline Forbes, buddy, I'll-- I'll tell you later."

He closes the distance between them, wanting to pull her into a kiss-- he even starts to, raising a hand to touch her cheek lightly.

But there's BB-8. There's what Cassian said about memories. There's the own dark recollection of the First Order prying open his mind. And under all of that, there's the thought that she isn't his to touch any more.

"You look great."

three

[windchasing]

It's the sound of the motorcycle that catches Pietro's attention, as the engine whines around the next corner over. The small cluck of irritation he gives in answer isn't for the disruption, nor the reckless speed at which it's traveling - quite the opposite, actually. It's how the glimpse of something moving at a pace he doesn't practically fall asleep watching feels like a breath of fresh air in a tomb.

And he can't follow. -Or he shouldn't. He can not only keep up with but probably beat the bike's pace, let the wind whip past his limbs like water, through tight turns and open roads, the very air cracking open in his wake.

He shouldn't.

But he knows that bike. He isn't sure why it took him a moment to remember, but if course he knows it, and the man riding it. That doesn't make it a good idea to show off his mutation in front of everyone else walking home tonight in Wayward Pines, but- maybe, at a more human pace, he can follow.

It's just after the crow that he finds the right turn and catches up. An eyebrow raise follows the offending bird. "Careful," he calls out as he approaches, "They've got long memories."

There's a hint of warmth in his tone, though, if you squint. Family is complicated, extended family as much as any, and while he does still consider this man - Poe? - to be more Cassian's family than his own, Pietro isn't displeased to see him, or his bike. (Especially not the bike.)

"I didn't know you were back."

[volitaunt]

Back. Back?

That's right. He used to visit--

No he didn't, he never did.

Poe closes his eyes, trying to get his thoughts to settle. His head feels full of noise, briefly banished while he was in motion. Now it's all back, and this boy--Pietro, his mind supplies without warning--gives him the prickling sense of familiarity that he's felt looking at the shops, the roads, even the distant cliffs.

He hates it. But that isn't the kid's fault.

"Back for the foreseeable future." Not forever, by any means. He's getting out of this place, and he's taking Cassian with him.

Bake sale

[ask_alexa]

Dom's not really paying attention to where she's going at the moment, too busy looking around at the stuff for sale, and the people milling around—trying, she realizes, to find a familiar face somewhere. And failing.

So she doesn't really notice anything going on below her waist, which is why she bumps right into BB-8.

"Oh! Sorry, I—" Blink. Blink.

Whatever it is, it feels like it's looking right at her and the noise it's making sounds like an "excuse you".

[volitaunt]

Poe is, surprise, grinning. "BB-8, don't be rude."

Her reaction is better than most of the people around town. She's not immediately backpedaling or trying to avoid them. It's dumb, how much the avoidance stings. Instinct tells him he's not used to it, even though memory doesn't have anything to back instinct up.

"He's in a bad mood," Poe says, this time to Dom. "Normally he's a lot more friendly."

4! May the fifth be with you?

[oldladyleia]

Leia has been around droids her entire life, they were her friends when she was younger and attempting to avoid being a princess, and they grew more trusted and more important as she grew into an adult, and became involved with the rebellion. After so long with C3PO, Leia learned that each droid had it's own personality and each personality brought along with it it's own sounds and personality.

But now she was remembering the sound of the little droid, and it reminded her of where she wasn't, and who she wasn't with. However, that droid had a name, and he had an owner, and that was someone else who was important. "BB-8." The name was soft, but there was certainty to go along with the words.

"They'll get used to you." Her words echo Poe's, and she looks around the sale, and then down at the clipboard that she's holding as if she'd never seen the thing before despite having it all morning. There's a subtle flick of fingers towards Poe, a gesture she doesn't quite remember the meaning of other than that it's one she's made at him often.

may the fourth fifth with you??

[volitaunt]

General Organa. His heart lifts, for a just a moment, before the galaxy comes crashing down around him.

She shouldn't be here.

And he failed her. He failed her, he failed the Resistance. For all he knows the First Order strip mined his consciousness, took the names of their bases, their personnel. Maybe that's why he can't remember anything, maybe this whole place belongs to the First Order--

Except that doesn't make sense, because the First Order would have killed him and the General outright. He's not sure how he knows that, but he does. This kind of pageantry isn't their style. This is something else.

His first instinct--to do what BB-8 is doing and close the distance between them at top speed--dissipates, and he waits for a order to approach.

two; (hope you don't mind me using brackets)

[avicula]

[ dutch is just going for a walk, that's what she'll tell anyone who asks. she's just going for a walk, but she's also memorising the landscape, building a mental map of the town, taking note of the people and how relaxed they are in each area, taking note of the areas officials don't seem to want her in.

so she's on a walk when she walks past a beeping, round, orange-and-white little creature, and it doesn't take her long at all to spot poe on the roof as well. ]

I think your robot's worried about you. [ she calls up. ]

HOW VERY DARE

[volitaunt]

[ He glances down, debates the merits of carrying on a conversation from up here, and then decides it's probably rude.

He could invite her up?

No. Probably still rude.

So down he climbs, first from the peak of the roof to the ladder he set up and then down that. BB-8, meanwhile is voicing his agreement with Dutch and tootling about all the reasons he has to be worried about Poe.

Poe crouches to give the droid a pat. ] Tattletale.

[ He looks up at Dutch, getting to his feet again. ] He does that. Poe Dameron. You live around here?

four

[notblayde]

Someone doesn't avoid the droid, though. Amidst the small crowd, Matt picks out the robotic whirrs and whistles and makes a beeline toward the sound. That? That's the sound of technology. Something far beyond anything else he's seen in town so far, which hopefully means some sort of answer. He prays it's something familiar, something that'll jog a memory - He knows that he worked with tech. Computers. Super computers! But he hasn't seen anything of that level here.

Matt doesn't even pay the man accompanying BB-8 a second glance before he kneels beside the droid, immediately reaching out to touch the droid's casing. A bit too friendly, too eager to get a good look at the technology.

"And what are you? Not from around here, that's for sure."

[volitaunt]

BB-8 rolls backward as Poe steps forward, putting himself between the droid and Matt without a second thought. "He is with me."

Why does this feel familiar? Poe gets the feeling he's had this conversation before, or some variation on it, in darker places than this. More overtly dangerous.

Before, though, he would have had a blaster in his hand.

"Keep your fingers for the food, pal."

three

[00nothing]

Alex hears the motorcycle approaching before he sees it, and for the briefest moment there's an unbidden rising of fear that Alex can't quite manage to trace the origin of, before the motorcycle skids into view and his mind manages to place Poe squarely into the category of safe and familiar.

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.

[volitaunt]

Here it comes, another one of Cassian's dead drops, knowledge that shouldn't exist flowing into his head like fumes from a broken exhaust valve.

"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."