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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[ Crowe hisses a curse under her breath, her jaws clenching. She'd ask if he had always tangled up his magic with his emotions this much, but she knows the answer, anyway. They would stay separate with the adrenaline of a battle, usually, which is how he survived, but.
Slow breath out. ]
Okay but since I can't be proper backup anymore, we've gotta figure out a way to get that under control.
[ She almost wants to tell him to snap out of it, except... she knows far too well it's not that easy. Just like her making sure to not get too close to Nyx's chocobo, and entire piles of garula turd like that. ]
Do you lose control of the lightning like that, too? [ Here. What was before... was. And is no longer. ]
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Either he was still angry, or the difference in his magic was that potent.
He lets out a slow breath to match hers, pushing down his frustration, and curls his fingers around the ice.]
No. I don't know. Maybe. I couldn't say.
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Sighs. Because, much as she wants more specific answers, she knows that he's trying his best, and him not being able to tell is information already. Just... she's not sure what it means. Yet. ]
Keep it going, at least for now. Let it go if you reach that moment when keeping it up will become an effort.
[ She's pretty sure he knows what she's talking about. To call up simple spells is work, but it's not too bad. Focusing longer/harder turns that work into an effort. If you keep pushing, it becomes a pain - that's where mages would drop down, in joint spellwork.
One can keep going after that. At one's own peril.
And, yes, Crowe is watching the scars on Nyx's face, too, for any sign of change. Not even so much as glowing. Getting redder at all will make her tell him to stop. But they need to find out how things have changed, and lightning... as useful as it is, in attack, it's quite unpredictable enough to make experiments harder to understand. ]
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(Although maybe now he could...if he wanted to?)
Maintaining such a small touch of magic, however, is as easy as breathing. He'd have to carry this for an hour before he starts to feel it even come close to the strain of warping in succession. That much he knows.
The ice spreads over his fingers, mist turning into a thin layer of crystals down his wrist.]
I should be better than this. I am better than this. I shouldn't be struggling with my control. Maybe...maybe it's because the last time I really used magic I just let go. Limits just didn't exist.
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You can't blame yourself, Nyx. [ Quiet, almost gentle. ] Find out the new limitations and learn to work within them. And if we figure out the reason for them, then we deal with that.
Even if you should be better... you are as you are. And that's good enough.
[ She stills, surprised at her own words. After years of being told they are nothing but what they are borrowing. After years of knowing Nyx trying and trying and trying to make up the irreversible. They're suddenly there, and she even means them.
(But how can she not mean them? Among other things, with the two of them here, alone even despite all the people they know and 'remember' knowing?) ]
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But he'd been selfish. He looks down at his hand again, struck dumb by such simple words as 'you are as you are'. His lips twitch into a more thoughtful frown and he clenches his fist, a flex of will shattering the magic between his fingers.
Brushing his hand against his pants to dislodge the remaining frost, Nyx gives her a tight smile.]
You're right. I keep expecting a war to knock on our walls and it's made me paranoid. [Not entirely the problem, but he can't vocalize what's exactly wrong. Especially not without giving himself time to mull it over.] I'm not the "Hero" anymore. I don't have to be right at the top.
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[ But there is no anger, mostly a bit of exasperation. ]
They wouldn't be bringing people like... us here if they were not expecting a war. But your top now just might not be what it was before. You still gotta find it. [ Light smack on his arm. ] Don't even think of trying to start slacking.
[ Just don't set actually unrealistic expectations of yourself. For the current parameters of realistic. ]