APRIL 3RD - 5TH | 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 a quiet, pensive look and a gentle suggestion that you avoid trying to force any memories or hazy impressions, that everything will be explained in due time, after you've had the chance to sufficiently recover. 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. Of course you have those things. And of course they already remember you being here, remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious. You've lived here much or all of your life....
As far as you can tell, anyway.
Either way, the hospital's population is busier than you'd expect in a small town, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. It seems as though an extremely unlikely number of people were in 'accidents' in the last couple of 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.
APRIL 3RD - 8TH | GETTING USED TO "HOME" AGAIN |
However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, the sky is clear, and the warm sun on your skin is a pleasant contrast to the pervading chill of the hospital now at your back. 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.
Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It's as if they're watching for something, or tat least trying to do so without alarming you - watching to see if you're okay, maybe, or to see how you're handling things so far, or maybe just watching to see if you'll realize you've left the hospital without putting on actual clothes. A boy in his late teens is the first to actively engage, standing at the bottom of the hospital steps and handing out fliers to some sort of orientation on Monday in one of the lecture halls down at the U. "Trust me," he says, catching your eye with a look that suggests he absolutely understands how confused you're feeling. "You're gonna want to go to this."
But first 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 you'll have plenty of time to try and sort through your confusion and misgivings. Maybe your friends and family in the town are just as confused and unsure as you are, maybe their familiarity is jarring, but somehow still some sort of comfort when
so much still remains unfamiliar and strange to you. Or maybe they take you aside with a knowing look in their eyes and start to explain. The memories and the destruction and the confusion.
Either way, it might be a good idea 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. Whether you trust those memories or not at this point, it probably wouldn't hurt to get back to work some time soon. Your co-workers might have some explanations for you as well, after all, and you have to be able to put bread on the table
somehow.
APRIL 8TH | THE APOCALYPSE AND YOU |
Though the new arrivals tend to still be fairly discombobulated this soon, there's not a chance in hell that they haven't heard
something about the situation at hand (the hospital staff tend to be gentle and ambiguous, but many of the other townsfolk aren't so much), and there's something to be said for giving them any necessary information before they have too much time to wallow in the void of its absence.
This month, they've opted to host an orientation.
It's impossible to miss - flyers and poster-boards all but lead you to Wayward Pines University by the hand, with any number of arrows directing your way to the central lecture halls once you reach the campus. The hall in question is moderate size, with more than enough seating for as many attendees as might decide to come. A table at the door has programs for the orientation, outlining the topics to be addressed:
Wayward Pines: A Haven, An Ark.
Ortech & You.
Our Memories, Explained.
Abberrations: What They Are And Why We Shouldn't Eat Them. Each has a different lecturer listed, most of which are recognizable (to those with relevant false memories, anyway) as well-loved (or at least well-known) local educators from the University itself or the nearby high school.
The orientation lasts about an hour and a half, covering the basics of what's known so far from the perspective of fellow Wayward Pines residents:
- The town is (and was intended to be) the last ark of humanity in an apocalyptic world, meant to be a bastion from which civilization would slowly be rebuilt.
- Ortech are responsible for that ark, and for basically everything inside it, with one primary exception: They seem largely confused about how individuals from other worlds wandered into their cryogenic collection radius. (This implies, the current lecturer noted, that either Ortech isn't being straightforward with them or else the technology that brought them here exists out there, arguably nearby but unaffiliated with Ortech in any way.)
- And yes, to address the elephant in the room, a decent percentage of most of our memories are fabricated. At one point, they seemed to be a means to an end. Now that they aren't, and Ortech seem very willing to assist in removing those memories, but the process is invasive and may destabilize the memories that are supposed to be there. For what it's worth, they've mentioned the memories being fabricated and corroborated by an AI rather than by an actual human being poring over the deepest crevices of our minds.
- Aberrations are pretty much the worst. They're what happens when someone turns an evolutionary mutagen loose on humanity and gives it a thousand years to simmer. They will murder the living hell out of you. Also, exchanging fluids with them in any way (their saliva in your wound, their blood in your wound, any part of their body in your mouth for attempted consumption) has a close to 100% chance of infecting you with that same mutagen. Suffice to say it has produced some deeply unsavory side effects thus far, so if that does come to pass, report back to the hospital ASAP.
Not everything can be covered in such a short time, so they're absolutely handing out a transcript of the
Ortech-released FAQ for further reading before
turning everyone loose to mingle around the spread of veggie platters and mini-sandwiches provided for the occasion.
Those who attempt to ask questions after or during the lectures get the general impression that these individuals are just doing their best to pass on what they've heard. They unanimously seem to recommend some form of, 'Rest and let your memories recover,
then strive for further information. And if you do hear anything new, consider passing on what you've learned," with a gesture to the email address or phone number on the back of one of the programs.
MOD NOTES
Welcome to our first intro 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
3rd and the
5th, and some sort of Happening will appear on the
8th, 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 further real memories + 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 false memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.
NOTE: As detailed in your acceptance notice, characters can reclaim their belongings + a complimentary smartphone at the hospital's outpatient desk upon departure.
Not mentioned (although it will be in future rounds) is the fact that
if you've claimed housing for your character, a house key will also be included, along with the address to which it belongs!
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)
pineslog2019-04-04 02:34 am
INTRODUCTION LOG
no subject
[ He gestures at himself. Clearly. ]
I...yeah. [ A sigh and he runs his hand through his hair before extending an arm towards her. ] I had to get out of here, I wasn't really thinking straight.
[ He's relieved too. Bone deep and reassured that they're together. After everything...else? It's important that she's here. ]
no subject
I'll grab your clothes in a moment.
[ after the hugging. once her foggy mind has time to catch up with the present and not lay stuck in a memory of a broken embrace, oppressive heat drying the tears on her cheeks. the memory doesn't even make sense! it's spring!
and yet. ]
no subject
Cassian's hand come around her easily and he bends a bit so that his head can rest on her shoulder. He feels...lucky is not a strong enough word, and something in his mind rebels at the idea of being blessed, but between that idea of fortune and awe exists the certainty of Jyn in his arms, the knowledge that this is not something she'd normally allow for, and the fear that he'd never get the chance to do it again.
His breath stutters before he gets his feelings under some semblance of control ]. Te amo [ he murmurs into her shoulder, before taking a deep breath and nodding.
She knows this. He knows she does. But he feels the need to say it anyway. ]
no subject
he says he loves her and jyn feels a sob trying to fight free from her throat but she shoves it down because she doesn't want to worry him. or she doesn't want to feel it. or she feels like she's going to cry with some strange pressure on her chest. ]
Sentimental cow. Don't make me cry.
[ wouldn't be jyn if she didn't try to run from emotions, from the fear that she doesn't get a happy ending like this. ] You know I...
[ she trails off, but he does know. he has to know. ]
no subject
Get hurt. Make her worry. Make her cry. He feels terrible and also really, really glad that he's the one that is wandering around in a hospital gown right now because he's certain he'd want to come out swinging if he'd realized she was missing and in the hospital first.
It shouldn't hurt, he thinks, that she almost said that she loved him. He should feel better about that than he does, right? But it does hurt, and he holds her a little bit tighter at that moment.
If she's gonna say it, it shouldn't be because she's afraid. ]
Of course I know. Don't be silly.
no subject
I'm sorry.
[ sorry she can't say it, sorry they ran out of chances, sorry she'd forgotten him here in the hospital when he was the one part of her life that made absolute sense. ]
no subject
[ Cassian's hands come to rest on either side of Jyn's face and he smiles, soft and warm and just for her. His head is a mess and he has no idea what's going on but he knows that he loves this woman with all of his heart, and that will not change. Not even in death, he thinks, morbid as that is. ]
Have you eaten yet?
no subject
Let me fetch your trousers and then you can worry about me.
[ her hands lift to cover his and draw them away, kissing his knuckles briefly before she nudges him back into the hospital room and all but sprints down the hall to gather his things from the nurses station. she returns a short while later with the bag of his clothes and belongings, setting it down on the bed for him to rifle through. ]
I haven't eaten. We can grab a burger on the way home.
no subject
It's not about death, he thinks - anyone can die anywhere.
When Jyn comes back he brightens visibly, though it's still a bit of a muted response. Granted, he's thrilled to have clothes on, but. He hates being sick or injured in general and he wants to go home, where he can press his nose into Jyn's skin and forget this feeling entirely. ]
Burgers sound great. Milkshakes?
no subject
Hmm? Yes, milkshakes.
[ once he is dressed, she moves back over to him, hovering just in front of him. she doesn't say anything for a moment before pressing up on her tiptoes again to kiss him. it's soft and nearly chaste, but even if the door is closed, they are in public.
anything else can wait. ] I'm going to steal your chart, so don't try to stop me.
ugh that icon kills me
A little shake of his head is the only indication he gives that he wasn't planning on stopping her, anyway. One presumes a hospital has digital copies of any patient files anyway, though mentioning that might lead to Jyn...oh, crashing the nurses' station computer system, or something, so he doesn't say that either. ]
I looked at it, earlier.
Ready?
♥
Ready.
[ she grabs his hand and off they go, heading back out of the hospital again. jyn blinks once they get out the doors, squinting into the sunlight. ]
no subject
Klaus wants to get drinks later, [ he relays, before he forgets that too. He wants to ask her if she's had any amnesia, but it's reasonable to presume she has and also, if she has, that might just set him off on a paranoid inner tangent.
Some things are better left to the dawn, perhaps. ]
Burgers, milkshakes, home? Drinks later? He could even come over, I don't mind.
no subject
[ fetch him like he is a lost puppy dog. which is, admittedly, how jyn sometimes thinks of her friend. a hobo puppy that sleeps on park benches.
jyn supports his choices. ]
I just want to eat greasy burgers on the couch with you.
no subject
[ It doesn't seem like an entirely inaccurate description of Klaus, from what Cassian knows of him.
(He also knows that Jyn supports Klaus' choices, and it makes him sigh a little. Beds exist for a reason. People should take advantage of the comforts available to them, but that's just his opinion on the matter.) ]
Yeah, [ He sighs the word. ] Me too.
How're you feeling? After the hospital, I mean. [ Not like...feeling feeling. ]
no subject
[ phantom pain that has no place in what her injuries were meant to be but that's neither here nor there. she squeezes his hand in reassurance, offering him a small smile. ]
I'm fine, I promise. Are you okay?
no subject
[ So apparently he's being a bit more honest about phantom pain that wasn't covered by the chart, at least not directly. ]
Also fuzzy. A little jumpy. Otherwise okay.
no subject
Is it your back?
[ IT FEELS LIKE IT IS and jyn doesn't know why. ]
no subject
Yes.
[ So whatever happened, she was there for it. Right? That's reasonable to presume. ]
no subject
Can we just go home? Order food instead of going to get it?
[ she doesn't want to talk to anyone else, she only wants to go home and gather cassian up in another hug she doesn't have to break away from, in the comfort of a place that is theirs. ]
no subject
Of course. Home it is.
[ If he pretends he is fine, that they're fine, that he believes it even though there's no concrete reason to believe otherwise, then they will be fine. Right?
Right. ]
no subject
but something feels wrong and she can't play it. maybe that is a side-effect of the head wound too. ]
Do you remember what happened to us?
[ it's the fuzziness around their accident -- they had to have been together -- that is leaving her unsettled, it must be. ]
no subject
The question catches him by surprise, somehow. He considers it, frowns, shakes his head once. ]
No. Not really. Something...big? [ He grasps in his mind for more than that, comes up empty and frustrated by it. ] I can't really get a handle on more than that.
But I feel like...anything that big, here? Probably would've left a mark. So I don't know, I really don't know.
no subject
I hate not knowing.
[ carefully, she curls her other arm around the one she's already holding, tucking her head against his shoulder. ]
no subject
He takes in a deep breath as he sees their house from where they're walking. ]
So, it's likely one of two things:
Trauma. It's so bad our brains decided to forget for us. Which means we might remember it later or we might not, it's hard to say.
Something artificial. Which we'd need...evidence to suspect.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)