JUNE 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.
JUNE 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.
JUNE 5TH | GLUG GLUG'S GRAND OPENING! |
Town hall is listening, and town hall has heard you loud and clear (their surveillance equipment is of the highest quality, after all). While there appears to have been some... clerical issues and red tape concerning the highest voted name, when the fifth rolls around the newly completed and lovingly anointed
Glug Glug's opens its doors to the public for the official grand opening!
For an old diner, this place has undergone an amazing transformation, with a ground, second, and basement floor all open to the public and offering a wide variety of entertainment options within:
The ground floor features a long bar along one wall where one can order coffee, tea, soda, hot chocolate, whatever your little caffeinated heart desires, as well as alcoholic drinks 10% or under — provided you can show some form of ID, of course. Linda, perched at the bar with a mimosa in hand, will tell anyone who listens that
she voted for Pubby McPubface, but honestly, who's listening to Linda, anyway? Pastries and small appetizers are also available at half price for the special event, and card and board games make inviting and colorful centerpieces on the tables scattered around the room (there are classics like Monopoly and the rousing game of Jenga in the corner, amongst less common fare you
may not have played before, like Cards Against Humanity and Settlers of Catan).
A lounge on the second floor overlooks the ground floor and features plush couches and chairs, ambient lighting and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere to contrast with the low buzz of activity below. A small balcony out back provides a peaceful, quiet view of some of the very pines after which our town was named.
The basement is where anyone interested will find music, dance, billiards and booze. A small stage on one end features regular local live performances, with a vast stretch of the room devoted to a dance floor and just a few private booths set into the wall around the edges. The bar down here serves the harder stuff to those that can prove they're old enough to be handling it, and one corner of the room is devoted to a billiards table and two large pinball machines.
Technically the basement level is open to all ages, but getting down there requires showing your ID and getting your hand stamped, and anyone under 16 is
highly encouraged to be accompanied by an adult. And, of course, anyone caught sneaking drinks to minors will be summarily kicked out, as well as reported to Sheriff Griffith for a good talking to about, you know, civic duty and such. It's honestly not worth it, you
know how he goes on.
Today is supposed to be a party after all, let's not spoil it just yet.
MOD NOTES
Welcome to our fifth 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)
pineslog2017-05-31 09:13 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
no subject
she frowns. part of her is curious about what's going on and the other part of her is just irritated. very, very irritated. she shakes her head. ) That's what they told me, too. Something about an accident. I'm not sure on the details. ( a beat. ) Did they tell you anything? ( might as well ask. )
no subject
Just to rest up and that things should clear up soon. They looked understaffed so I left when I could. Think I should make a follow-up appointment? [ It's rhetorical, his expression wry. ]
no subject
So, the same thing they told me. Although they mentioned something about a doctor and I left as soon as I could. ( she has no time or need for medics. well. probably, anyway. that he, too, has basically escaped from the hospital makes her chuckle. at least someone else did the same thing as her. ) Perhaps, we can go together. ( just kidding. although it's hard to tell from her tone since it's not really very jesting. )
no subject
[ At least he's not trying to get in her space or anything. Lounging just seems like the most comfortable thing for him. It's normal, ingrained right now. "Right now" seems important in his head and he isn't sure why, tries to hold on to that thought for later. ]
Anyway, looks like we really are neighbors, at least.
no subject
she takes a small step closer to the fence, though her gaze drifts toward the house. there's something familiar about it and not at the same time. it's confusing and she can't help the nagging feelings that she's probably meant to be looking for someone. someones. she's not sure. ) I suppose we must be. I could do worse for a neighbor. ( at least she thinks that's the case. either way, he doesn't seem to be among the type of persons she immediately can't get along with. that's something for the record books. ... or is it? ) What's your name?
no subject
I, uh... can't remember. I'd have to go look again at the ID they gave me from the Sheriff's Office. [ He thumbs over his shoulder to indicate he left it inside, with a questioning look as if to ask you mind? ] You?
no subject
That's unfortunate. You must have had a hell of a hit to your head. I've managed to remember mine. ( she nods, pauses and adds somewhat awkwardly: ) I'm... sorry, to hear that, though. It must be awkward. ( it's an attempt at sympathy. here's to hoping it was done correctly. ) It's Gamora. ( just gamora. no last names. what are family names anyway? )
no subject
Roman Fletcher, apparently. Pleasure to meet you, Gamora. [ He pauses, shrugs. Her sympathy reaches and he just tries to let it sink in. ] Or... see you again as the case may be. Being neighbors. Don't know about the hit to the head, just that this is pretty crazy. Who just packs up amnesiacs and sends them home after some mass accident streak?
no subject
as he comes back, hearing his footsteps, she turns and abruptly forgets that she was questioning the house in the first place. it's replaced with the curiosity to know her ( supposed ) neighbor. unfortunately, the name doesn't ring a bell. shouldn't it have? ) Nice to meet you then, Roman. ( a pause. ) ... or re-introduce, whatever the case may be. ( he brings up a good point. it seems pretty irresponsible to release a number of persons suffering memory loss into a city to wander among themselves. she shrugs. ) In our cases, we released ourselves. It does seem pretty ill thought out, though. Maybe they hope that being in the outside world will cause memories to return.
( but shouldn't they want to do that in a closed, safe environment, just in case something goes wrong with the attempt to bring up said memories? oh well. )
no subject
Yeah, I suppose AMA still counts for something. Wonder if they'd keep the more-injured there regardless? [ And he's not sure if keeping people there when they'd rather be elsewhere is a good thing or not. There's a lot of safety concerns involved, not to mention he just doesn't want the streets to be full of aimless wandering amnesiacs (like himself only a short while ago). ]
So, uh... have you seen anything familiar yet?
no subject
she shakes her head. ) Difficult to say, I suppose. I know it isn't the case, but, it almost seemed like there was just the one nurse running about in a frenzy to care for everyone at once. ( or maybe it just seems that way. that there was just the one nurse. she's probably just imagining things. ) I imagine if someone were more gravely injured, they wouldn't have been able to get up and venture off the way we two did. It may be that we just happened to be among some who weren't all that hurt from whatever accident it was that put me in there. ( she glances to him, looking him over suddenly to see if he has any injuries. she's surprised to see that he looks rather well and wonders what that means. didn't accidents usually leave some injuries? even small ones? usually in copious amounts? )
Not... Not really, no. I have a sense of familiarity to some things around here but it feels... ( off. she shifts, lowering her head to look at her green fingers drumming her arms. ) ...something feels strange about it, is all. Maybe that's a side-effect though. ( she motions vaguely to her head, pulling an arm from herself to do so. ) —from the head trauma, I mean.
no subject
[ It adds to the column of "people must know me here" even if he doesn't feel the strong resonating familiarity that usually goes with it. It's just a nauseating blank that he takes care to hide. This isn't anyone else's problem even if they have similar problems of their own. He'll take care of it, and take care of anyone else that needs it (the second room comes to mind and he wonders if he should wander back to the Sheriff's Office to ask about it). Whatever the case, he smiles comfortingly. ]
Head trauma can definitely make things feel wrong no matter the reality of it. I'd say don't nurse the paranoia but keep tabs on it. If you were to ask me what to do about it, which you didn't.
no subject
as he's speaking, her mind drifts to the house and she has that strange sense of need again. the need to find certain persons. her brow twitches in a frown. ) ... Roman, do you live alone? ( it's a sudden question, completely forgoing their previous conversation. she hears him tell her to keep tabs on the paranoid. not to nurse it. but she can help that feeling. )
no subject
Her question stops him up and he sucks in a breath. ]
I... I don't think so. There's another room in my house — pretty sure there's someone else that belongs here. Thought I'd give it the day to see if she comes home.
[ She. The room certainly speaks of a girl but his mind insists that it's more than that. Warmth and worry both suffuses him and he holds it back. It's not too late in the day that the otherwise-empty house is unnatural. There's time. ]
no subject
I see. ( interesting, though, that he mentions a " she. " maybe someone does live with him after all. she's not yet been inside her home. she had been on the way when he'd caught her attention. exhaling, she looks to her neighbor again. ) It's a little unnerving, isn't it? Having everything a blur. A haze. ( there are outlines of people in her head. a few of them. no faces, nothing distinguishable. just people. people she feels like she should know. )
There are moments I feel like I'm remembering something, ( a finger taps her temple. ) but then I wonder if it's just my mind tricking me, if it's a real memory or it's just ... more meaningless haze. ( she pauses, her voice lowering, taking on a much softer albeit confused tone. ) I feel like there are people I know. But their faces are blank. ( and it's hard to decide if they're here... or just in her head. )
no subject
Spots that should be filled? [ That's one thing he knows very well. He doesn't remember anything, but he knows there's plenty of people in his past. Family. People he should know. He doesn't. That's an ache he's already familiar with, one that's never left. This new feeling isn't quite the same but it's close and he realizes he's getting anxious about that empty space in his house. ] You should probably check inside.
See if there's anyone there. Or... evidence that other people live there, anyway.
no subject
she nods. ) I had a family. Have a family. ... had? ( it's all holes in her memory. faces and people she's sure she knew that she can't sort out anymore. this memory shit better not be permanent, it would drive her insane. every time she thinks of family, friends, there's a pang of hurt. something happened but what?
she glances to the house. ) ... maybe. But ... ( what if she doesn't like what she finds in there? )
no subject
[ He pauses, shifts his perspective. She's perfectly capable of going into a house alone but this whole thing is incredibly daunting. Thinking that family might be waiting and finding nothing is enough to make his heart cry out at the thought and he shifts closer to the fence, kind of sidles like he's ready to walk around. ]
Let me go with you.
[ There's no excuse for it, although he's not hard-pressed to come up with one. She just looks like she could use someone at her side to explore this strange place called home. ]
sorry for word vomit.
as he approaches, she feels herself getting apprehensive about the situation as a whole. she's not really sure who he is, not really, but at least he's the only person she's spoken to thus far that's made any sense. giving a slow nod, she turns toward the house as though having to collect herself before she heads inside. which she does have to. whatever's in there might be make or break for her already utterly lost mind. )
... I would appreciate that, thank you. ( more than she's likely to admit. she take some few strides toward the door and when she reaches it, hesitates. she drops her gaze to the sapling. it feels important but she can't remember why. no matter. setting her hand to the knob, she takes out the key given to her by the sheriff which he said had been among her belongings and unlocks the door.
admittedly, it looks lived in. once she's past the threshold, she takes in the house and ... finds herself drawing blanks. many of them. she sighs, but heads through the house. it feels as though it's familiar though she can't place everything. or much of anything at all. as she wanders through the house she notices stairs that lead to another floor and a bedroom on the bottom floor. peering through the door into the bedroom, she tilts her head. there's a photograph of herself and a man. ) ... is that real? Or am I seeing things?
( cautiously, she heads into the bedroom and looks around some. she picks up the picture of herself, smiling, with a man she has a vague sense of remembering. but another catches her eye. the pair of them and a younger boy. she frowns. ) ... why can't I remember these people? They're my family, right? That's... why people take photos. Isn't it? ( her head is throbbing anew. )
never apologize, i love words.
At least, that's the idea of him coming in with her. He stays close without keeping glued to her side and lets her take in the home. There's signs of life here, people, and not just the one who's in here now. Photographs are pretty hard proof of that and he sees the difficult position that it puts her in. ]
The why is pretty easy. Give that one a bit of time. But... do you feel anything? When you see those? Try not to think, just... what's it tell you?
ah, good. 'cause i can word vomit like a boss.
she glances toward roman and takes in the words he's saying. don't think, just let it be a feeling... feelings were difficult for her. she doesn't remember that she just knows it somehow. setting her fingers to frame, she tilts her head as she stares at the man. her chest is tight. there's emotion there. strong. she's pretty sure she knows what that is but it terrifies her. then she notices something in the picture. her hand is laid out on the man's chest and on it... digging into her pocket, she retrieves a ring the sheriff had told her that she had on her person. ) ... I think I am in love with this man. ( it's said in awkward confusion, but she turns to roman with the frame in one hand and the ring in the other. ) I think he gave this to me and we are ... ( she trails off.
but who's the boy? there's a sense of pride when she looks at his photo but the memories are vague. ) I feel ... ( naked, opened, as though her emotions are showing more than she usually wants them too. her brow knits deeper into a frown. ) ... concern. ( where are these two men? )
yes pls.
He doesn't say that, though. He has hope against the odds if only so Gamora will have hope and look forward to seeing these people herself. Not just be left with these photos. ]
They're family. Is that what you're feeling?
♥
He's... important. They both are. ( she grimaces, looking to her newfound friend and neighbor once more. ) And they're missing. I can't remember what kind of accident I had. What if they were in it? What if... ( they didn't make it? something happened? they could still be in the hospital. ) Maybe I should go back. ( but with no names to ask for, what was she supposed to do? ) ... or wait here.
( she tilts her head to roman. ) What would you do?
no subject
[ Because that's got to be it. And whether it's the reality or not, it's enough to get the attention of people who are more in the know than they are — the people at the hospital did seem to recognize him, and he can only presume that it's because of how small a town this is. If Gamora has family here, chances are the staff would know. ]
If not at the hospital, then on to the Sheriff's Office. Personally, I'd turn the whole town upside down.
[ He pauses, inclines his head. ]
But I'd leave a note here first.
no subject
No, wait. ( she tilts her head at the photo again. a warmth floods into her and she ears ring the same way they did in the hospital. a shriek tears through her mind and she can hear something this time: ) ... it's Peter.
I'm going to go to the hospital. I think they were in the accident with me. I remember a scream. ( she closes her eyes a moment. she can hear herself calling out to " peter. " telling him to take her hand. but her head suddenly flares with pain and she grabs it. memories are irritating, regaining them especially, after this accident shit. )
I'm going to tear this town apart until I have my family back. ( there's something of a darkness in her promise, a newfound determination. he's right about the note, though. as she heads toward the front door again, she pats his shoulder in thanks. even if she can't quite remember their friendship just yet, she's very glad she ran into him. taking up a pen on a small table near the door, she scribbles out something reading gone to look for you two, gamora. ) Someone must have seen them. Either they picked up their things at the sheriff's or they're still in the hospital. I will find them. ( her hand instinctively moves to a loop on her belt but she finds nothing there. whatever she expected to be there, she hasn't got.
yet.)Thank you, Roman. This has been a ... strange, trying time since I awoke in the hospital. I can't remember much but you are a good friend.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)