(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

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.

Comments

the Andalite - Open

[takenalive]

A3 - Hospital
[The staff buzzes a little harder around the Andalite, because - he's an Andalite, he's big and clearly not human, and there's a gap between false memories saying this is normal and actually having a patient this big with three hearts and amber blood. They're busy but there are plenty of eyes on him when he starts to stir. Followed by considerable dismay when he realizes he doesn't have to wait for these bruises and cuts and even some fractured bones to heal normally and manages a morph into Aria, bubbling and cracking and shrinking down into a long-haired woman in close-fitting clothing. No one wanted to see that.

But that's how the Andalite hit a full recovery in two or three minutes. He spends some time in the public areas or looking into the rooms of people who are already awake, either as Aria or in his own body, and either way if you look at him right he'll comment.]

<Don't I know you?>

A3-8, Wildcard Around Town
[The Andalite spends the first night in his one-bedroom house, but after that he mostly sleeps standing up in the yard, then down the street, then further away. On grass, under trees, places less closed in. He only has to lie down to sleep for a couple hours each night and so if you're out at about two am you may see him heading down the street at a canter.

He also goes back to the garden center, where you can find him carrying heavy things on his back, or measuring grains of fertilizer into containers, or using his big curved tailblade for absolutely anything that needs cutting, whether that's a few mint leaves or a sapling that needs trimming. Usually Manuel or Maryam take the register and answer questions but if they're called away, well, the Andalite is older than the rest of the rotating part-timers and will handle things.

NPC confusion continues. People know him but also - wow! They steal looks at him in public and smile hesitantly talking to him, but each person grows accustomed given some time. Does that include you?]

Hospital

[ouzel]

[ Cassian is in his room, reading his own chart when he hears what definitely sounds like hooves in the hospital hallway, and that? Takes some form of precedence over trying to sort through medical terminology and various readouts with uncertain clarity.

So he makes his way from the end of the bed to the door leading to the hallway, still dressed in just his hospital gown, ass hanging in the fresh air as some say. What he sees there makes sense. Alien. Whatever.

Whatever?

He has the niggling feeling he's familiar with this concept in the particular, not just the abstract, when the Andalite speaks to him. ]

Tal vez.[ Cassian shrugs. ] Maybe? You seem familiar enough but my head is splitting right now.

hospital

[00nothing]

[ alex had stopped by the hospital for a refill on burn cream, and it had taken him a fair bit of time to convince the staff that he still needed the stuff for the burns on his shoulders and back, especially without actually letting any of them get a look at his back or pulling his hands out from the front pocket of his hoodie.

he's been pulling on vague, hazy memories of past visits to the hospital to muddle through, and targeting the more distracted nurses and eventually is rewarded with a single tube of cream and a roll of bandages from a woman who barely pauses long enough to set both on the counter between them before she's continuing on her way.

a single hand darts out from his pocket to swipe up the loot and disappear back into it, quick enough that only the barest hint of reddened skin is visible in that instant, but the presence of someone itches in his periphery regardless and he slowly turns on his heel to steal a glance at alloran.

he seems to startle more at the method of communication alloran employs than his appearance, but the appearance is still enough for him to squint thoughtfully at him for a moment and answer: ] Not... that I know of?

klaus hargreeves | 3rd, hospital | open as hell

[hello_goodbye]

No! [ klaus wakes violently in a hospital bed, more sober than he can remember feeling in a very long time, and it's awful. he doesn't make it a habit of spending time in hospitals as a rule of thumb, even his overdoses are usually resolved in the ambulance, and he can almost always talk his way out of the vehicle before it arrives at its destination. there's a very obvious reason for this decision, of course, and has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn't actually have health insurance...

hospitals are a veritable hotbed for ghosts.

the room he's been tucked away in has a very open, airy look to it with huge windows, a high ceiling, and plenty of natural light streaming in. and yet he feels like he's drowning beneath the swell of the dead.

he tumbles from the bed in a tangle of flailing limbs, eyes locked on those big windows and already starting to push himself back up to his feet in their direction before he forces himself to stop and consider the situation. because the last time he threw himself unthinkingly from a hospital window he wound up right back where he started, but with a broken ankle as well. three priorities quickly assert themselves above all else:

1. the ghosts. of course. which, even considering his location were worse than usual because...

2. he's sober.unbelievably so. but here's where the location actually works in his favor. hospitals were practically giant shopping malls for pharmaceuticals, if you knew what you were doing. and klaus knows what he's doing.

3. his clothes are gone. which, yes, when compared to the first two rather pales in comparison, but his clothes are one of the few things he owns that he's actually proud of and hospital issued garments don't especially have a lot of pockets to stash stolen meds in when he makes his getaway.

finding and speaking with one of the less harried nurses quickly resolves point number three for klaus, and once he's back in his own clothes he sets himself to the task of resolving point two and, in swift succession, one as well.

people at the hospital are free to run into him at any point during this adventure, as aside from the moment that he actually swipes the meds in a clearly practiced manner, he doesn't exactly cut a subtle path between his clothes and the harassed way he stalks down the hallways with his head bowed low, pockets rattling, and a low, sustained murmur of: ] Fuck fuck fuck fuck shitfuck fuck FUcK sHIIiiIt.

[ the moment he's outside the hospital walls he brushes away the kid trying to hand him some sort of flyer and pulls out a pill bottle from one of his deep pockets. without looking at the label he pops the lid, pours out a few pills in his palm and dry swallows them quick before breathing a huge, heaving sigh of relief and letting his eyes fall closed as he sinks down into a messy sprawl at the base of the building.

every now and then a hand swipes out to wildly swipe at the air around his head without him opening his eyes, but the more time that passes the less often these gestures occur until they appear to stop entirely. ]

Finally. [ klaus says in a soft, relieved voice, opening his eyes to squint up at the midday sun and anyone that might be in the nearby vicinity. ] Hey, you got anything to drink?

[ouzel]

[ In his time spent surveying the hospital, before Jyn and managing his clothes, he spots Klaus wandering the halls cursing to himself at various volumes. He doesn't think a whole lot about it - everyone takes accidents differently, he knows this, and hospitals aren't the greatest place for a lot of folks (himself included, if the way he keeps checking every window, door and shadow mean anything). Besides, it's not really his business.

But when he manages to leave the hospital, there is Klaus again, looking a little more level...maybe? Something. But he's squinting up at Cassian, who gives a shrug. ]

Not on me.

[ His is wearing just...the hospital gown, as it is. ]

[epistemological]

[ It's a very weird feeling, to simultaneously know exactly what someone's doing and having absolutely no idea. Because the Jonathan Sims of Wayward Pines would know that voice anywhere. But the Jonathan Sims of the Magnus Institute, London is honestly just baffled as to why a man would flee a hospital and then down a number of pills.]

Klaus?

[ Is what comes out of his mouth. He's dressed now, been back to his house at this point (his house, not his flat; he needs to remember that), and Klaus quite clearly has not. He's not sure if Klaus has one at the moment, given what he knows about the other man. Or... doesn't know.

Dammit, he hates this.]

jyn erso ✧ open

[realists]

𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 ✧

[ jyn's walk home is not really near the hospital at all so she s l o w s down when she sees someone casually walking down the street in nothing but a hospital gown, full moon on full display. (are they not cold?)

she can't just not say anything. ]

Hey, uh. You haven't got pants on.

[ maybe they didn't know. look she walked out of the hospital after her car accident so she gets it, but underpants are a basic human right. ]

𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚢𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚠 ✧

[ jyn's only here to man the snack table for the tea shop. which means, effectively, eating from the snack table for the tea shop. they're supposed to be free because they were offered as a service to the town, but jyn has been known to charge people she doesn't like.

linda will get a free lemon cookie over jyn's dead body.

but if you look new and disoriented she isn't that much of an asshole and offers helpfully: ] Don't worry, they're aberration free.

[ because they're cookies. ]

𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 ✧

( catch her at the tea shop counting the till before they leave for the night, at the academy struggling to carry a huge stack of library books through the front door, in the front garden of her home up to her elbows in soil, at the bar that should totally be renamed to glug glug's on a school night, yolo )

welcome home ✧ hospital-ish

[ouzel]

[ Cassian probably should've waited for the doctor, or to at least find out where his clothes were before leaving the hospital, to be honest - he'd gotten roughly twenty feet from the door before he'd gotten the flyer from the teenager outside and realized that he needed to at least sort out a clothing situation. He had an address in his head, from the file at the foot of his bed, but that was it.

As uncomfortable as the hospital and what he could remember made him, he needed more information.

Frowning at the brightly-colored paper in his hands, Cassian walks back into the hospital, just in time to see a Jyn turn down a hallway.

He stops, momentarily frozen. He looks around, glancing over his shoulder once, before breaking out into a jog and following her. ]

Apocalypse and you

[snow_ghost]

[This whole seminar has been eye-opening for Ikrie.

It... doesn't make much sense to her at all, really. How the entire life she remembers could be fake. Even after it's been explained, she doesn't really understand the logistics of how someone could do something like that. Or why they would want to do it.

It does explain why she feels so uneasy in this town, but it opens up so many more questions. Ikrie tries not to show it, but it's clear from her face that she's a little overwhelmed by all this. A lot of people probably are.]

What? Oh, uh, sure.

[She takes one of the offered cookies and just kind of looks at it for a second.]

It's strange. I remember these being good. But if this is all true, I guess I've never had cookies from your shop before.

welcome home (sort of)

[hello_goodbye]

[ there's a fair to decent chance that jyn isn't even talking to klaus, he's hardly the only person on the streets that the words could technically apply to, but it's enough for him to recognize her from their semi-regular excursions to the bar and that's enough to have him brighten up and sway his way over to her with a smile. ]

Of course not. [ he says, stopping in front of her to do a little spin and let the skirt's fringe flare out from him in an arc. ] Today just seemed like a bare knees sort of day, don't you think?

cassian andor - open to all

[ouzel]

the hospital - april 3rd

[ While Cassian doesn't quite remember this about himself, he has the strong impressions that he does. Not. Like. Hospitals. Maybe it has something to do with the level 10 suspiciousness of the whole thing. Maybe it has to do with the chart that doesn't detail just what, exactly, was the nature of his 'accident'.

Either way? Cassian scans his chart and then strides into the hall in nothing more than his hospital robe, investigates several other rooms, and leaves.

He doesn't get far, really, before he turns right back around and re-enters the hospital, this time with the intention of getting some clothes and some answers. Maybe in that order. ]

orientation: free food - april 8th

[ There's a letter from the University asking about providing snacks for the orientation and of course Cassian isn't going to say no. Free advertising, the opportunity to meet more people who are here like him, better answers? All of those sound good to him.

Plus, Jyn promises she'll man the table while he sits in on the orientations.

(He skips the one about memories. Part of him simply does not care.)

So sometimes there will be Jyn at the table but sometimes it'll be Cassian, replenishing the goods from a giant tupperware underneath the table with its soft pastel checked tablecloth. ]

Lemon cookie?

"go ask alice" - april 9th and onward

[ There's a tea shop.

He knows this, the same way he knows that he had nothing to do with the decor or the name. There's paperwork, even. The decor is...fine. Well. It's gaudy and mismatched but it has character. The name throws him, however, and Cassian spends more than a little time outside of the tea shop, frowning at the letters painted on the glass.

He's gonna have to do something about the name. But once someone approaches the door, with its little bell that rings as it opens, he follows inside. It is pretty clear he works here, what with the floral apron and all. ]

What can I get you today?

wildcard

[ Cassian can be found waiting for Jyn roughly a block from the academy, at the library checking out books (literally and figuratively), smoking outside of the bar, or more or less anywhere you can figure! He's got a curious nature and a map can only tell him so much. ]

free food!

[professorfreischutz]

[ Mana consumption... is a problem. Although not doing anything strenuous, Archer knows he's without a stable anchor here and his Independent Action will only sustain him up to a certain point. Thankfully, there's other ways to generate mana for a Servant to survive off of. The most easily accessible form is food.

So when someone offers him a cookie at the orientation, he smiles and takes it, placing it on his modest plate of veggies and mini sandwiches. He isn't about to be an awful boor and take all the food presented (although he certainly could and the thought briefly crossed his mind but no, that's too terrible) but when someone's offering? He'd be utterly foolish to say no. ]

I don't mind if I do. Thank you, young man! Are you, perhaps, the catering for this particular event?

go ask alice, 9th

[ostagars]

❰ judging by the lack of definitive purpose in his step as he enters and the way he hesitates just a couple of steps inside the door, it's pretty apparent that this man isn't quite sure why he's here.

nor did he seem to realize the figure outside was an employee, but he sure does now that cassian's speaking up from behind him - alistair's turning a little to face him. ❱

Oh, I-... ❰ his gaze shifts from cassian to the posted menu, sorely considering just picking something to save himself the embarrassment, but instead he admits: ❱ I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I didn't really think much farther than, 'Oh, well that's intriguing, I wonder who Alice is?' And I, well. I don't know tea. At all, really. ❰ a beat, and another glance to the menu. ❱ At least, I don't remember knowing tea? So I suppose just hand me a cup and I'll drink what's inside.

go ask alice

[00nothing]

[ alex walks straight up to the counter cassian is standing at and leans in with a smile that almost certainly spells trouble, equal parts reckless and endearing (particularly in light of the yellowed bruise spread across one cheek). it's a smile anyone close enough to alex to push past the initial veneer of muted politeness will be quite familiar with, and cassian is one of those lucky individuals.

(at least, according to those pesky implanted memories, which are harder to ignore than alex would like to admit.)

he holds out one hand between the two of them, messily wrapped in bandages along the fingertips and wiggles them a little. ] Can you help me with these? They're getting in the way of my writing.

alex rider | open for business

[00nothing]

8th; university.

[ alex waits to enter the hall until the orientation has already been in progress for several minutes, slipping in silently and keeping to the back out of sight. he remains standing for the entire presentation, and while at first glance he doesn't appear to react much to the information provided, keen eyed observers might notice a tenseness to his posture, a stillness to his expression that is anything but peaceful.

about halfway through he pulls out a small notepad from his back pocket and flicks through a few pages until he finds a clean one (on one page, a rough sketch of a bike with lines drawn to various places, the words 'ejector' and 'magnesium' just barely visible; on another, just the word 'EXOCET'; a partially written grocery list with the vegetables crossed out and several question marks drawn next to them).

he begins to take notes.

as he writes, seeming to focus most heavily on the false memories and cryogenics portions of the orientation, he mutters a bit under his breath. ] What sort of range would it... transmission... tower or underground... computer records...

wildcard.

[ catch alex riding around town on his bicycle in a seemingly aimless pattern that is actually more in line with a structured grid pattern, or walking a similar path with a gameboy in his hands and a slightly dopey looking black cat following sedately at his heels.

for anyone that remembers his time in the hospital, his limp from appears to have completely healed, but there are fresh bandages wrapped somewhat messily around his fingertips and a yellow bruise blooming across his right cheek. he doesn't bother to give anything other than a distracted nod to anyone he recognizes as he passes, but everyone knows, a polite boy like alex, he's always willing to stop and chat if approached. ]

university.

[professorfreischutz]

[ Although the head is bowed, deep in work, Archer recognizes that face. The familiarity belongs here rather than there in his memories, but it's familiarity that he can work with nonetheless, and he moves to stand beside him to observe his work. ]

Now, Alex, will you be sharing those notes with the class when you're finished?

Ikrie | Various | Open

[snow_ghost]

April 3rd, After The Accident.

[It was the noise of the heart monitor that caused Ikrie's eyes to shoot open. That regular, tinny beep sounded just a little too much like a dangerous machine.

The name for it was lost to her, but she could picture it in her head: A four-legged, cat-like machine with the ability to make itself invisible. It made a noise like that when it was dropping mines around a target, to prevent them from escaping.

Needless to say, there was a little bit of panic to begin with. Even moreso when she realized that she didn't know where she was. If a nurse hadn't chosen to enter the room at around that time, who knows what Ikrie would have done.

Fortunately, a nurse did precisely that. And after an exchange of questions ("do you remember your name?" and "what do you remember" from the nurse, and "what is this place" and "where are my things" from Ikrie) she... Well, she doesn't calm down. Not exactly. But she starts to come up with a plan of action of how to deal with this situation.

Starting with getting her stuff from the front desk.

She makes a bee-line for the desk she's been directed to - pushing past anyone else who might be waiting at the desk for their own belongings.]

Excuse me. Yeah, that's mine - the spear and the blue clothes. Give it here.

[Is this a little rude? Yes. But, in her opinion, not as rude as taking them from her in the first place.

In any case, once she has the plastic tub with her stuff on, she makes her way into an unoccupied corner of the waiting area and just... starts changing into her clothes right there, as quickly as she can. Speed in getting out of this hospital is, apparently, much higher a priority than privacy.]



April 3rd - 8th, Around Town

[Ikrie doesn't like her house.

She remembers liking her house. She remembers growing up in this town, moving from foster house to foster house. She remembers being a troubled kid who developed a sense of responsibility as she grew older. She remembers joining the fire department, and the training and long hours involved. She remembers saving up every penny she got, until finally she could afford this house.

She remembers it not being perfect, but it being her house, something she had never had for herself before. She remembers being happy with this place - her place.

These memories feel real. There are some parts that are a little hazy, but that's probably because of the accident, right? For the most part, though, they come to her as naturally as her memory of waking up in the hospital. The town around her, quiet and empty as it may be, seems to back these memories up.

But now? In the present? She doesn't like her house.

It doesn't feel right to her, in a way that's very difficult to describe. Like there's a second, more ephemeral set of memories rattling around in her head, telling her that these things are unnatural. Like she's spent her whole life living another way.

And so when Ikrie gets out of the hospital, she doesn't go home immediately. She spends very little time there, except to collect whatever belongings she wants to keep and throw them in a backpack.

From the 3rd onward, she can mostly be found wandering around town and sleeping outside, like some kind of spear-wielding vagrant. If she looks at all familiar to you, this... might be some cause for concern.]

april 3rd - if this isn't enough for ikrie to give a fuck about i can do better

[skittering]

❰ lalli, meanwhile, had also beelined for the desk, if only because it seemed to be where everyone was trading in these terrible chilly white dresses for things they seemed more comfortable in. it occurs to him that he'd be trading for his actual clothes (and other belongings) once he sees a familiar orange-and-white cat peering urgently from inside a carrier behind the desk, but his attempt to step behind the desk to collect her and the adjacent pile of hazily familiar objects is met with scolding and a request that he return to the line with the rest of the people waiting for their things.

his head ducks down between his shoulders, and he sidles off to the side enough that they'll leave him be. his eyes shift to the line (it's long, so long), then to the cat now rubbing urgently on the bars of the carrier and yowling a plaintive yowl. and honestly, lalli's about to make a second attempt when a woman storms up to front of the line and starts making demands.

lalli seizes the opportunity, skittering past the harried receptionist on quick, light steps to snatch the bundle of belongings under one arm while the other hand opens the carrier to snag the cat with the other. (it gets halfway through another very attention-grabbing yowl before he interrupts with a scolding fssst and skitters that much faster.)

he doesn't make it far, ducking just around the corner - still visible from most of the waiting room seating, even if not from the desk - before setting down everything in his arms and hastily changing into his clothes much like the demanding stranger seems to be doing. his hood is quickly pulled up over his head, arms crossing under his chest as he surveys the rest of his belongings with the vague but obvious unease of someone who doesn't 100% recall ever having owned them. ❱

Mrr, ❰ he exhales, palms lifting to press on the sides of his head in irritation. ❱

around town.

[webshoots]

[ it had been the grocery store whispers of that girl camping in the middle of town despite having a perfectly good home which had grabbed his attention before a brief "what (?)" had elicited "haven't you heard?"'s followed by ikrie; he has memories he doesn't stop to question of her and him, children, bickering and arguing and falling out as only children do. his aunt scolding him for not giving her a chance, for taking his life and opportunities for granted—.

it's late, and though there's an edge of tiredness, there's a part of peter that says he should be going to bed at a reasonable hour — he has to get up early in the morning for work, after all — there's another part of him that feels a degree of familiarity at being out on the streets at an otherwise (almost) unsociable hour. the feelings — because that's all they are — are things he contemplates momentarily before mentally shoving to one side (he'll think on them later.)

it doesn't take him long to find her; there's a brief moment where he appraises her before: ] Hey. [ a beat and a quirk of a smile. ] Mind if I join you?

Archer of Shinjuku | 3rd-8th | town, orientation | OTA

[professorfreischutz]

around town/getting used to "home".
[ Although Archer had no one to visit in him the hospital, it doesn't bother him very much (if at all). There was only one person he'd been potentially expecting to show up (who?), and they didn't, but it doesn't upset him. He has other things to take in and this entire town is one of them. That flyer handed off by the youth gets folded and tucked away into a pocket after cursory examination.

Now that he's out of the hospital, he slips his glasses on and simply breathes. There's an infinite world that he knows nothing about at present but he has plenty of places to start. First and foremost is to drop off this giant coffin the people at the front desk say belonged to him. It feels familiar enough and there's an automatic motion to heft the thing onto his shoulder, and he recognizes what it must be for even if he doesn't know why, so that's enough for him. Whether it actually belongs to him or not, it's his now, no take-backsies.

Archer takes a leisurely walk through town toward the residential district after following the street signs, taking his time despite how much he must stick out like a sore thumb right now. The keys provided fit in the lock and he lets himself in, memorizes the layout of the house, and rests the coffin by the front door to retrieve later if necessary.

Now, it's time to go out and make nice with the locals. Whatever is going on here, his senses tell him it has very little to do with a Holy Grail War and isn't that peculiar?

Don't mind if a shady-looking old man ends up approaching with a hearty smile on his face. ]

Oh, hello there! Mighty nice weather we're having today, isn't it?

the apocalypse and you.
[ Boy oh boy, now this is interesting. The locals had given hints to it and he'd pulled out further information as the week progressed, but everything laid out as it is becomes fascinating. Archer's still reclaiming bits and pieces of his memories by now, but he has enough to get a firm grasp that he should be speaking to people much more deeply informed than the ones making the presentation. That doesn't stop him from approaching them after the event and thanking them for their time, it was very informative!

At the suggestion, he sticks around and mingles. Looks for others who seem unsatisfied by the general open-end of the event. Tehre's got to be more information lurking within the cracks all around town, right?

Armed with a plate of little mini-sandwiches and veggies, he's skirting around until he finds people he deems might be receptive. ]

Ha! Now that only gave me more questions than it answered, what about you?

the apocalypse and you.

[alyein]

[ Georgie is unsatisfied. How can she be anything but when presented with those facts? What is worse is than the fragmented memories is not knowing whether those are hers or not.

She's not even going to try and wrap her head around the apocalypse arc spiel or whatnot. One thing at a time, least her head actually explode. By the time the reception rolls around she's really not in the mood for food.

However, spotting a familiar face makes her relax a little, despite the tension still lining her shoulders. ]

More or less.

Jonathan Sims 🎙 Various 🎙 Open to All

[epistemological]

the hospital - april 3

[ He remembers...

He remembers the accident. He remembers... biking. Bike to work. Bike to work very important in central-

In Wayward Pines. Yes. He remembers he's in Wayward Pines, he remembers a bright flash of light- an explosion? He remembers-

He remembers that he is the Archivist. He doesn't know what that means.

It's easy, removing the various wires and things from himself. He doesn't know how he knows how to do so, but none of the alarms go off, nothing starts beeping. Even the larger tubes, when he pulls them out, his skin is unblemished before he can even blink. He doesn't remember how that is, or why that is. He doesn't remember... coming here.

He does remember to look for the tape recorder, the one sitting at his bedside. And to take it with him when he leaves the room. It's inconvenient, as he's in a hospital gown with no pockets, but he feels very strongly about it.

One of the nurses finds him in the hallway, starts telling him things. And the things she's telling him... they're true. They're true and they're not true and he doesn't know how he knows that either. He just does. And it all hurts his head.

Eventually, he wants to know something, something very important and it makes his head buzz, the strange feeling traveling down to his tongue and when the words come out, he knows that there's something strange to them, that he has to be careful when he can feel that strange buzzing under his tongue. He still asks, regardless.]

Where is my wife?

[ They do tell him, right out, no talking around it. And once that's done, he sets off. Whether he finds Georgie or someone else first, that's for fate to decide. ]

home - april 4 - 8

[ He puts the flyer on the table near the entrance, where he usually puts the mail.

Where he usually- does he? Does he usually put the mail there? He's not- he doesn't-

This house. They bought it when he got out of school. Together. He and Georgie, with everyone's help. Here, in Wayward Pines. Didn't they? They did do that, didn't they.
Didn't they? The questions are maddening, and they feel strangely hollow. Like it doesn't matter where he lives; he's hardly ever there. No, he has to go to work. He ought to be at work. Work is... important. Work is the most important thing, isn't it?

Other than Georgie. Georgie's important too. He loves her. He married her. Didn't he?

He did.

So down he walks, down to the library. Where he works. He's definitely a librarian. Except... no. He's the Archivist. He knows he's the Archivist. It's one of the few things he knows. His name is Jonathan Sims, and he is the Archivist. There are... recordings by him? Yes, that sounds right.

On... on the tape recorders, yes. Okay. Yes, go to work. Work is good.

At the library, he's- well, that feels right and wrong. The stacks of books (where are his file cabinets?), his office-

His office. Someone moved around his office. It has him muttering.]

Accident... Great... Let's rearrange his office. Sleeping people don't need pens.

[ Wait. Wait, no. He'd- deja vu, very strong. Why had he said that? Who would move around his office? Especially since he'd only been out for a few... days? Why did he keep thinking it was six months? No, no, it had to have been only a few days. Right.

And wasn't someone supposed to bring him tea?]

it's the end of the world as we don't-really-know it - april 8

[ ...he feels, all at once, that he should be more surprised at all this. More incredulous. More unwilling to believe.

And yet, the more he hears, the more he feels as if this all... it all sounds almost too familiar.

There are pieces that his mind is trying to put together, trying to fiddle about with. Pieces that he can hardly recall the shape of, but he's still trying to find where they slot, feel out where they belong in this brand new frame of his.

He takes the pamphlets and he reads over them slowly, taking everything in, starting to dissect the pieces themselves, starting to wonder where he will fit in this strange new world.

And why the word 'Slaughter' keeps popping up when he looks at the Abberations.

He'll mingle, oh yes. He'll definitely mingle. Because something in him says that regardless of anything else, they will handle this thing a lot better if they work together.]

[permission post here please!]

End of the world mingle

[snow_ghost]

[Ikrie, on the other hand, is a lot more conflicted than Jonathan seems to be.

Most of what she remembers about her life never happened, and that's a tough pill to swallow. Especially given the fact that the things she does remember about her old life are hazy and confusing and don't seem to make much sense together.

When the lectures are over and people start to mingle, she wanders over in Jonathan's direction. He catches her eye, mostly because she caught a glimpse of him reading through all those pamphlets. He seems like the kind of person who might have some answers.]

Hi. I think I showed up a little late - I didn't miss a lecture about machines, did I?

[Because she has some pretty distinct memories about machines, and she's extremely hazy on whether that came from here or somewhere else.]

peter parker | ota.

[webshoots]

i → april third: hospital.

[ at first, there's a quiet, almost peaceful moment where he slips from sleep to wakefulness; where he attempts to piece together where he is and why. it's replaced quickly by a cold, tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that says he shouldn't (doesn't want) be here—

(—the hospital?)

one breath turns into two, then three. he sits up; the movement's accompanied by a groan. his body aches like he's — well, he supposes like he's been hit by a car or something, and apparently he has — though the report at the end of his bed manages only to state TRAUMA in bold capital letters (helpful, he thinks) and the barest of personal details about which peter isn't entirely sure he feels.

a "we'll be with you in just a minute, love," drifts in from the hallway and peter thinks that he needs to get home, he needs to see — who? someone. there's someone he needs to see, he's sure. he's sure, too, that he's not interested in the okay from the medical staff. it's an oddly definitive feeling: no (more?) medical tests or examinations, no needles.

there's a comfort to be found in the busy-ness of the hospital, the way that he's mostly looked at then looked past, and he makes his way to the front desk, dismissively waving off any offered assistance — I'm fine.

that is, until: ]

—Parker. [ it's said in the manner of someone who's had to repeat the same word multiple times. ] P-a-r— [ silence; a beat. ] Yes, I was told my belongings were here.

ii → april eighth: apocalypse + you.

[ he thinks he's experienced weirder, but he's not entirely sure — the fogginess to his thoughts that he can't quite shake is— well, it has an explanation beyond 'head trauma' that isn't quite comforting, but it's something. there's a voice at the back of his mind that says it could always be worse, although right now, he's not entirely sure how — that same voice is telling him that at least (" at least (?) ") he's alive, but he'd already had that after waking up in the hospital, so he's not entirely convinced it's a good gauge of 'this is okay'.

(a twist of his lips and a few names (suggestions, more than definitives) bounce around his thoughts as he considers the talk they've just been subjected to: the other option is to freak out and he'd really rather not do that in a roomful of people he has mixed recollections of and— no, they (the memories) might not be real, but they (the people) certainly are, along with any and all associations—

—and still, there's that really weird feeling that he has Dealt With Stranger, complete with internal capital letters signifying importance.)

—nevertheless, there's free food and real memories, false memories, peter's not going to pass up that opportunity, so once it seems like there's an opening in the people surrounding the table (one memory — quote-unquote — fleetingly says the catering company has always served up great baguettes) he makes a beeline for it. ]

So—. [ beat; sidelong glance. ] I'm pretty sure this where I'm supposed to say something about not being in Kansas anymore.

iii → wildcard

( i'm up for basically anything, but if you're unsure, just shoot me a pm! )

ii.

[00nothing]

[ alex had been avoiding the more crowded sections of the conference room during the bulk of the orientation, but he hasn't had the chance to go grocery shopping since he singed his fingertips and there'd been nothing in the house to eat before he went out today. which means he's standing almost furtively at the snack table now, notebook under one arm and tucked up against his side to leave his hands free.

the fingertips of both hands are wrapped in bandages and he's picking delicately at the food on offer to avoid dirtying them too much and mostly succeeding.

when peter approaches he's in the middle of taking a bite, and he gives the man a slightly wide eyed look as he chews before he can finally respond. ] Sorry? Kansas? [ his brow furrows slightly and he appears to be thinking very hard about something before he continues. ]

I thought this was Idaho.

number five | 3rd thru 8th | various | open

[callidus]

APRIL 3RD - AFTER THE ACCIDENT

[ there was an accident. that much is clear. that much has firmly lodged itself in his memory. but details about the accident itself are hazy at best, non-existent at worst. then again, he doesn't need memories to know that something happened to him. the aches and the waking up in a hospital bed are enough evidence of that.

the nurses come in shortly after, checking on him and asking him questions that he brushes off. he's given a gentle smile (that he reads more as condescension, but that could just be him) and the assurance that his memories will surely come back in time!

he has some memories, thank you.

despite being told to sit tight and wait for the doctor, five makes quick work of getting himself disconnected from the monitors. there's some distressed sounding beeps but he pays them no mind. they just tell him that he needs to leave now before another nurse rushes in to check on him while trying to usher him back into the bed until the doctor arrives and discharges him.

fuck that.

five's out the door quickly and heading down the hall, following the signs to the outpatient desk. a few times he tries to use his power (see? he remembers something, nurse. he has powers) to make the journey quicker, but it stops at a shimmery blue distortion around his hands that quickly dissipates. it makes for a great spectacle, but that's not what he's looking for. he's still feeling off and a little... weak from the accident. he curses his luck.

upon reaching the outpatient desk, five pushes his way through anyone who may be standing there to get front and center ]

Give me my damn things so I can get the hell out of here.

[ 'Oh honey, you really should really wait in your room until your parents get here.'

five slaps his open palm down on the desk and angrily clenches his jaw. it's a moment before he speaks again though. he knows, deep down, that this'll probably move faster if he at least stays calm.

so he takes a deep breath and puts on a fake smile ]

Keep treating me like a child. See how it works out for you.

[ there's no reaction from the nurse at that aside from a gentle smile and a head shake. 'Name?' ]

Good. It's Five.

APRIL 8TH - THE APOCALYPSE AND YOU

[ once you've seen one apocalypse, you've seen them all.

five strongly considers not even bothering with the orientation, but all of the flyers and poster-board around town all but force him to go. he can't help following their lead right to the lecture hall where the orientation is taking place. he takes one each of the programs on the table by the door, keeping one in hand and stuffing the rest into the pocket of his blazer.

during the presentations, he can he seen standing at the back of the lecture hall, furiously scribbling notes onto the programs. he shoves it down into his pocket and pulls out the next as each one fills up. he tries to leave as little information as possible.

after the speakers have finished (and once five realizes that they aren't taking questions), five is over by the food, successfully (unlike a few days ago at the hospital) using his ability to get around the table, moving from one plate to the other almost instantly. it beats having to wait for people to move out of the way and missing out on what he wants. there's a vague memory of a sibling getting irritated by five doing exactly what he's doing, but it's foggy at best ]

WILDCARD

[ open to anything else as well! if you want to plot something out, feel free to shoot me a message ]

the apocalypse and you

[hello_goodbye]

[ if there's a place in this town with free food on offer, you can bet you'll find klaus there and the orientation is no different. he hasn't really bothered to pay attention to the presentation itself, outside of those moments where the people speaking managed to rile themselves up enough for their voices to rise up out of that dull lecture cadence, and even then his head tilts in the direction of the stage for a moment before returning to his perusal of the food table.

there's a distressing lack of anything alcoholic. thankfully, excluding that terrible day he woke up in the hospital bone dry sober, klaus always has his own stash.

by the time the talks are over and five makes his way over to the snack tables, klaus has settled in comfortably, sitting cross-legged on the floor beneath said table with a sandwich in one hand, a cup of spiked lemonade in the other, and a small pile of cookies in his lap. and he'd recognize that flash of light as five moves about the table anywhere. ]

Five! My favorite small son! [ klaus leans out from under the table, planting his elbows on the ground in front of him and his chin in his hands to grin up at his brother. ] Is this the apocalypse you were all riled up about? Because if it is, I completely understand your concern.

lalli hotakainen | 5th + 8th | ota

[skittering]

█ 5th (hospital)

❰ though lalli didn't outwardly seem to comprehend much of anything the nurses said, he nonetheless makes a beeline for the outpatient desk as soon as he's left unattended, if only because it seemed to be where everyone was trading in these terrible chilly white dresses for things they seemed more comfortable in. it occurs to him that he'd be trading for his actual clothes (and other belongings) once he sees a familiar orange-and-white cat peering urgently from inside a carrier behind the desk, but his attempt to step behind the desk to collect her and the adjacent pile of hazily familiar objects is met with scolding and a request that he return to the line with the rest of the people waiting for their things.

his head ducks down between his shoulders, and he sidles off to the side enough that they'll leave him be. his eyes shift to the line (it's long, so long), then to the cat now rubbing urgently on the bars of the carrier and yowling a plaintive yowl. and honestly, lalli's about to make a second attempt regardless of the scolding, but another patient chooses now to storm up to the front of the line with some sort of complaint and both receptionists flock to address the woman's concerns before she makes a scene.

and of course lalli seizes the opportunity, skittering past the harried receptionists on quick, light steps to snatch the bundle of belongings under one arm while the other hand opens the carrier to snag the cat with the other. (it gets halfway through another very attention-grabbing yowl before he interrupts with a scolding fssst and skitters that much faster.)

he doesn't make it far, ducking just around the corner - still visible from the more vacant end of the of the waiting room seating, even if not from the desk - before setting down everything in his arms and hastily changing into his clothes right on the spot. his hood is quickly pulled up over his head, arms crossing under his chest as he surveys the rest of his belongings with the vague but obvious unease of someone who doesn't 100% recall ever having owned them. ❱

Mrr, ❰ he exhales, palms lifting to press on the sides of his head in irritation. ❱

█ 8th (orientation)

❰ whether he came alone or (the much more likely option) as emil's prevailing shadow, lalli had enough of torrent of words fairly early in the lecture and skulked off toward what those sitting near him might assume was the bathroom.

if they did, they'd be incorrect.

during the last stages of the lecture and the mingling to follow, the observant will notice the occasional hand slipping out from under the edge of the tablecloth, reaching up and over the edge of the table to seize upon some kind of food item (any kind, the hand doesn't seem to discriminate) and disappear back under the table with it. when and if those reaching fingers find nothing in range, there's an audible huff of irritation before the hand withdraws, reappearing a few seconds later on the opposite side of the table with the same general tactic. ❱

orientation

[professorfreischutz]

[ It's an easy thing to spot, the wandering and hungry hand trying to collect food without being noticed. Archer leaves it be for a time until most of that table is clear, then finds himself wandering over with his own plate piled on with various snacks. As he anticipates the hand coming out again, he places something down within reach for it, doing so in timing with every motion and waiting to see if the owner of the hungry hand might notice where these gifts are coming from.

Such a game helps his mind focus on the real issues as presented. Something to occupy his hands while he thinks on much deeper issues, and honestly it's just kind of fun to mess with someone. ]

alistiar theirin | 5th, at home | closed to neria

[ostagars]

❰ the nurses were deeply reluctant to discharge him, as hazy as he still seemed, but alistair wasted no time in informing them that boredom isn't a particularly tolerable shade on him and that they'd be much better off cutting their losses and letting him go.

much of the route home passed in a haze. honestly, he wasn't entirely sure where he was going, just that it felt like where he was supposed to go when he was done being everywhere else.

but now he's standing in front of a cute little house with a tidy lawn, and it all comes rushing back to him. not memories, not yet (they said those should trickle back in the next couple of weeks), but feelings. this feels like home. it feels like home because it is home, but also because it's neria's home too.

neria. oh hell, he hadn't checked in with her, had he? was he supposed to? ....maybe he shouldn't try so hard to think right now.

so he doesn't think, instead crossing the distance to let himself in through the door. ❱

Anybody hooooome~? ❰ he's shutting the door behind himself, then heading over to set his container full of belongings on the near-end of the kitchen table. and contrary to the light-hearted greeting, he goes on to admit: ❱ I've apparently been in the hospital? Not sure if you knew that. Everything's a bit cloudy right now.

❰ either she's home or he's talking to an empty house and will gladly repeat himself once she gets here. ❱

heart eyes

[kinloch]

[ considerations re: an empty house turn out to meet somewhere in the middle; neria has been exploring this place she supposedly dwells, and while familiarizing herself with it (again??) has given her an increased sense of stability, she's still not exactly at the top of her game. especially since some innate sense buried uncomfortably under happy domesticity occasionally flares up, telling her in peace, vigilance it's never a good idea to get fully relaxed.

fortunately she has this enormous dog following her, snuffling interestedly at just about everything, so that's a comfort, and anyway all of this is just to say that she has, in fact, appeared by the time he finishes talking, wearing an unlaced tunic and leggings, on the grounds that that's the clothing that was in her things, sans the like, enormous suit of armor she did not put on, because. what. are they ren faire enthusiasts??

even if that doesn't seem like something she would mind, per se, as long as she were doing it with alistair, whose presence actually, stupidly, seems to make the kitchen brighter. or warmer, or something, something she hadn't realized she missed so much until she had it back.

in essence, this whole thing is gross immediately. meaning she would greet him, grossly, immediately, except that barkspawn has much longer legs and so gets there before she can, the box of Stuff on the table wobbling perilously in his wake. bark bark happy slobber possible tackle! ]

Oh--we're glad to see you in one piece.

[ apparently. she's trying not to laugh at the dog. ]

Are you all right?

[ they'll get to the fact that she was also in the hospital later; currently she has to gently shoulder barkspawn out of the way so she can come in close enough to put her hands on his chest just below the shoulders, checking with about eighty pounds of fierceness for any little lingering injuries. ]