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.
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pineslog2017-05-31 09:13 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
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She didn't often make much of appearance when he was inhabiting the house. Her wary disapproval of him made it very easy to dislike her, though he never showed it. Terrorizing her and moving around her things was far more gratifying, and for now, was little more than teenagers being teenagers.
Ah and there she was shrieking like a harpy. Pan rolled his eyes and lounged in the window, not about to make his escape when turning where he sat to look over his shoulder at her allowed him far more enjoyment. She was always so quick to anger; it must have been a red-head thing.]
Hmmm, let me think for a minute... [He made a show of thinking as he tapped a finger against his chin. He then snapped them as if the answer had just come to him.] Ah yes, I remember now. We're up to fifty-three. That's not a very nice number, is it? Not divisible in a nice way.
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Then I'll say it again. [She spoke between clenched teeth.] Don't go into my room.
[She needs to get dad to install a lock for her or ask Alec to teach her a rune that might bar her door shut. She's sure that something like that exists... maybe.]
Where is the picture you took? I saw it was ripped from my sketchbook. [Clary has a lot of sketchbooks but this one is special and she needs the page back.]
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He gave her a mischievous grin at her need to reiterate her point, not that it would stop him. He still turned enough that she could see him cross his heart with a finger.] Oh of course. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye... I suppose you'd like the honours, hmmm?
[She had good observation skills to notice a single picture missing. He had wondered how long it would take her, but Clary didn't disappoint.] I made a paper airplane with it. Tossed it right out this here window... good flight, I must say. That paper is excellent for keeping to the air.
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[She turns to him looking a little bit more frantic than before. Her bright red hair falling in bright waves over her shoulder. How long ago had he'd thrown it? How far did it go? Was it since the last time it rained? Would she be able to find it?
Clary suddenly got the urge to jump out of the window but that'd be stupid and she knew that she's just panicking.]
Tell me Peter or I'm going to dad. [Her sketchbook isn't something that she jokes about. That picture had had an image of an angel on it. A boy with marks on her skin similar to the one on her forearm. It is someone that she's supposed to remember.]
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It was just too bad that she was woefully easy to get a rise out of. It might have even been boring if she just wasn't so darn expressive about whatever it was that he happened to be poking at her.
Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if he were being nothing more than brotherly to her.] Relax, you always get so worked up over something trivial! You know that kind of panicking will be the death of you someday, right?
[Instead, with a flick of his fingers, he produced a neatly folded slip of paper from his sleeve and dangled it out before them.] I have it right here.
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Her eyes narrow at Peter when he puts his arm around her shoulders. She doesn't like it when he does that. She doesn't like it when he does a lot of things. Someone once told her that a brothers job was to annoy his sister but she feels like that's a stupid job to give someone.
At least from the point of view as the sister.] I think you'll be the death of me, not panicking. [Her lips part into surprise as he pulls the piece of paper from his pocket.]
You lied! Give it back.
[Her fingers reach out to swipe for the paper. At this point she doesn't care if it's ripped, as long as she gets it back and keeps the image of the angel a secret.]
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That's not a very nice thing to say about your brother. Pa would disown me if you died by something I did. [It just meant covering his tracks, but that was difficult too given how it always felt like there were eyes and ears everywhere.
He whipped the paper up out of her reaching fingers, smirking at her failed attempt. He knew it would be one of many.]
Come now, calm down. Just ask me nicely and I'll give it back. [For a price.]
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There I said it.
[She reaches for the paper again trying to channel her internal Karate Kid. It doesn't work and the paper slips fro her fingertips as he pulls it away.]
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He jerked it back once more before twisting it to his palm and offering it to her. He gave a charming smile.]
And so you did. Now you can have it back, little sister.
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Her eyes don’t leave his as she reaches for the paper, slowly plucking it from his fingers. Grabbing it hasn’t worked anyway so she sees no reason to rush to snatch it back.
With the paper in hand she stands and steps towards the center of the room. She quickly opens it to see if it’s the one she remembers drawing in her book, with sad looking boy and the angel wings.]
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That didn't mean that he hadn't made a copy of the image. However, the original was back in his sister's hand, not a mark on it and only a few fold marks where he had protected it (sort of). He was still smiling when she peeled it open and then folded his hands behind his head as if he were perfectly innocent in all of these matters.]
Well, are you satisfied? or will you hold it against me for as long as we exist in the same household?