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
no subject
[ The kid is very serious - something about how the kitchen was a sanctuary hits him.
It's a reminder that slots naturally into place among the chaotic jumble that was his memories. Even with his clothes ( his body? ) looking like he'd reached into a maw full of grinding teeth and horror, all cuts and bruises. The injuries nearly match Juno's. They're similar to
Nureyev'sPierce's. They don't look "accidental" at all, and he doesn't like the idea that this kid, or his -- spouse, were hurt by someone else and the authorities at the hospital dubbed it an "accident".He doesn't bring that up, not right now. There's a tangle of thoughts, the phantom sensation of a small hand gripping his, of the furrow between the kid's brow when he was studying. ]
We'll order take-out. [ He's also very serious. ] You think I'm going to let you near the kitchen in your condition?
no subject
... Well, no, [ and the words are out of his mouth before he can even realize he's going to say them. ] but I'd clean up first, Juno-san.
[ the name hangs in the air for a long, heavy moment, as shirou looks at juno with the same expression he had looking at his own clothes and injuries: recognition of the fact that something exists, and trying to come to terms with the other fact that he hadn't realized before now, and puzzling through why that is a problem. ]
no subject
[ The words are exasperated, though there is a flicker of some sort of warmth hidden behind all the attitude. It's not a kindness, not from him, but there's a familiarity in there - like he's used to someone who takes things at face value, who misses the nuances for the hard line. It's an old sense, and he doesn't know if he attributes it to this kid, or to someone he once knew, a long time ago. Before this place.
Ah, hell. ]
You're not going near the kitchen, at all. Clean or not, you just got out of the hospital.
[ They're lingering, and he doesn't like it.
Especially not after the kid says his name, and he's still faltering on his. Starts with an "S", he thinks. Or maybe, it was a "K"? ]
Why don't you go orient yourself, first. Take some time, see if anything else comes back.
[ -- and he can hide his discomfort over the name situation......... ]
no subject
quiet all the while he's processing that, shirou nods absently because, he is tired, exhausted really. he feels tired, drained (it's probably blood loss, there's so many cuts), and the dull pound of a headache is building between his temples. first things first, then he can do as he's told: the groceries. the plastic bag crinkles once more as he lifts it, looking at the contents with a furrowed brow, before finally holding it out as an offering, an exhausted tremble in his hands. ]
The cabbage and ginger need to go in the fridge, but everything else is fine at room temperature. Well, not the green onions, actually... [ it doesn't feel odd, deputizing the kitchen but... juno-san... does juno-san cook? ]
Uh — which... room...
[ there's a hall with windows, he wants to think, but... it doesn't match the layout of this house at all. ]
no subject
prone to taking care of those that ought to be minding after him, he thinks. He thinks he remembers this. ]
Give them here, [ he says, heedless of the kid's instructions, as he reaches his hands out to take the bag of vegetables and other food goods from his hands. ]
The -- [ which room, juno ] The one closest to the garage, I think. Sarra's in the other one.
[ Sarra. His partner's sister. ]
Go orient yourself, I'll put this away and be right there.
no subject
[ after only a moment of hesitance, shirou heads for what he assumes is the hallway to the bedroom that belongs to him. it feels cluttered, with more furniture than he thinks he needs, but thats only a secondary concern after his primary focus: the bed. he doesn't even bother with his socks, or the blankets; tired as he is, shirou just lies down on top of the covers, fully dressed and face down. the texture of the fabric is slight, and for a little while, there's nothing but the sound of his breathing and the house moving in light summer winds. he's... tired. he could just close his eyes, for a little bit...
by the time juno comes to check on him, he's fast asleep. for now. ]