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.
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pineslog2019-04-04 02:34 am
INTRODUCTION LOG
number five | 3rd thru 8th | various | open
[ 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
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.
no subject
I'm almost twice your age. [ his tone pairs well with his expression. don't get him wrong, he's glad to see klaus but that doesn't mean he's going to treat him any differently than he normally would.
five's brows furrow at the question and he shakes his head as he bends down to pick up the fallen sandwich (sorry about the fact that he just sort of sets it back on the table) ] No this isn't it. This is something entirely different.
[ while the details are hazy, he knows that the apocalypse that he spent time in was vastly different than this. there was no quaint town, no people. just a lot of death and destruction and loneliness ]
no subject
But you're so small. [ klaus says in a soft, delighted voice, like the concept is still so novice to him, like it still manages to come as a surprise. he pops a cookie in his mouth, chews and swallows before holding out a similar one to five in offering. an offering that should serve somewhat tempting considering he'd cleared the table of this particular flavor and currently holds a monopoly in it. ]
Different how? How many apocalypse does the future need, really?
no subject
Don't call me small. [ klaus' delight is like nails on a chalkboard to five. see, he's anything but delighted about his current situation. he looks like a kid again and with that comes a lot of limitations and a lot of relying on people he'd rather not rely on.
five sighs deeply and snatches the proffered cookie from klaus' hand as though his brother may change his mind and take it back. five crouches down next to klaus and takes a cautious bite of the cookie. he's been burned by sweets before. he sinks completely to the floor and his expression softens a little as he chews it. rocky road cookies. he hasn't had them in decades ]
Apparently it needs at least two because this is definitely not the apocalypse I lived in. [ even though it feels familiar ] How is it different? There's a lot more people here, for one thing, instead of just the two of us. [ five and delores ]
no subject
he waits until five has finished with his first cookie before sliding a plate out from behind him piled high with those rockyroad cookies and over to his brother without saying a word. ]
Don't worry, Five, there's still plenty of dead people in this one. [ klaus says in a deceptively light tone, hardly letting the words land between them before he's pushing forward with another topic. ] I guess that eye probably won't help too much with this one then, huh?
no subject
We're a single town's worth of people, not the world's population. Unless there are a lot of other towns like this one, there's going to be a lot of dead people. [ he takes a bite of the cookie then almost absently adds: ] But you aren't one of them in this apocalypse.
[ five sets the half eaten cookie down on his knee and digs in his pocket for the prosthetic eye that he's still carrying with him. he holds it up in front of himself and peers at it, as though it'll show him some way it'll be useful this time too ] Pretty sure it's outlived its usefulness.
no subject
Oh, right. [ he bobs his head up and down with all the loose limbed grace of a puppet on a string. ] We were all dead in your apocalypse, weren't we? Weird. After your fifth OD you start to feel a bit indestructable.
[ except that's not quite right, is it? or, the reason isn't right, maybe. but all klaus can track it to is that strange, inexplicable absence he's been feeling since he woke up in the hospital. like he's missing something that should be right in front of his face.
it's enough to drive a man to drink, honestly, which is precisely what he does now to push the intrusive thought back out of his mind. a drink he then offers to five, because the little guy sure looks like he could use it right now. ]
I mean, I bet you could come up with a pretty crazy prank with that thing.
no subject
five looks away as klaus continues to speak, eyes drifting from person to person, watching as they gather to speak to each other or mill about the snack table. he glances at his brother out of the corner of his eye before returning to his momentary people watching. do they even realize what kind of bullet they dodged by all managing to be here together instead of completely and totally alone? ] Trust me, you're pretty destructible. You all are.
[ turning back to klaus, five gladly takes the offered drink. honestly at this point in his life and after everything he's been through, it's pretty much guaranteed that five could always use a drink. he slips the eye back into his pocket as he gulps down some of klaus' drink ] I'm not going to use something I found clutched in my dead brother's hand to prank someone.
no subject
he toasts the contents of his hand in five's direction and pops the contents in his mouth. ] Cheers to that, what a relief!
[ and then of course five has to go an bring the mood down again. always so serious, what a drag. he sighs heavily and slumps sideways onto five's shoulder like a marionette with its strings cut. ] Well not if you look at it that way, you won't. Which brother was it, anyway? Because if it was me, pranking someone would be the best way to honor my name, really.
no subject
looking down at the drink in his hand, five decides to ignore klaus' haphazard toast. there's no relief in what he saw that day. turns out the superpowered umbrella academy who were meant to save the world, weren't that super and weren't able to save the world. at least not that time. he takes a deep drink ] Do you have more? Alcohol, I mean. Not pills.
[ five is an angry, somewhat bitter old man. of course he's going to bring the mood down. it's what he does. five looks at klaus out of the corner of his eye when his brother slumps against him. once upon a time, he probably would have shrugged him off, but the contact is... welcome ] You're not even dead anymore so I don't need to honour you. Besides, it wasn't you. It was Luther.
no subject
[ he wrinkles his nose. ] Ugh, yuck. Nevermind then, Gorilla Boy would never approve. [ and then seems to realize what he's just said, and his expression goes downright gleeful. ] Which kind of just makes me want to do it even more. Are you sure you don't want to...?
no subject
[ five sighs and shakes his head. leave it to klaus to make light of something so important. it may seem like just a prosthetic eye, but for the last 45 years, it's been so much more than that for five ] It's not about what Luther thinks. I don't care what he thinks. If you want to do something stupid, then find your own eye to do it with.
after the accident (i'm sorry for him)
that of all things, seems to work.
so here comes lalli, sidling up beside five (though he manages to squeeze between people instead of push past them). he clears his throat, then slaps his own palms down on the counter and declares: ❱
Lalli. ❰ a glance to the receptionist, then to five. did he do it right? ❱
omg don't apologize i love him
seemingly after everyone else's interest in him has waned, though, five still feels like someone is watching him. and he's just irritated enough right now to do something about it. he looks over his shoulder, expecting to see some entitled adult (some entitled person. five's an adult too, dammit) but instead, he sees a slim boy who was apparently also hospitalized, squeezing through the crowd to come up and stand next to him.
five opens his mouth to tell the boy to wait his turn when he - lalli? - copies what five had just done. minus the threat, of course. he looks at lalli and then up at the receptionist with a smug, almost proud, smirk that he couldn't wipe off his face if he tried ]
When you get my things, you should probably gets his too. Save yourself a trip. Five and Lalli.
this went much better than i expected
so when the boy (five, a number? strange) turns back to the receptionist, so does lalli. 'five and lalli' earns a definitive nod of solidarity. he does break solidarity just a little when the receptionist turns to survey the various sets of belongings, lifting up on his toes to point an unequivocal finger at a cat carrier topped with what he somehow recognizes as a long hooded garment that will make him feel significantly less exposed than he does right now.
and now lalli glances to the boy. does he see his own stuff? probably not, a lot of it seems to be in the bright room full of papers behind the desk.
if the receptionist does bring lalli his things before five gets his, he'll scoop them into his arms but give a pointed look from the receptionist over to five, like 'well? he's still waiting.' ❱
well lalli made the right choice in helping five to cause a scene :D
five's eyes dart from one set of belongings to another behind the receptionist, trying to spot his clothes, but he's momentarily drawn from his own search to see what lalli's pointing at ] An animal?
[ never mind. he'll deal with that later. five stands on his toes and cranes his neck, trying to get a better view into that bright room where his belongings are being held hostage. no, lalli. no he doesn't see his own stuff just yet.
unless the umbrella academy crest is in full view, his belongings are just a rather unassuming school uniform, after all. that means that he shouldn't be surprised when lalli's stuff comes before his, but he huffs angrily all the same ]
I was here before him! [ and all the people he pushed his way in front of where here before five, so his point is completely invalid ] Listen, I don't care if- [ he's cut off mid-sentence by the receptionist returning with his clothes.
there's no apology or expression of gratitude, he just grabs his clothes and gestures for lalli to follow him away from the desk ]
he tends to skitter AWAY from scenes so this really is news
lalli, meanwhile, wastes no further time in ducking out of his hospital gown and into his tunic in one quick motion right there where they've stopped. soon he's fully dressed and his other belongings are stuffed into his pockets - save for a dagger, which gets a mildly confused look as he searches for relevant memories but ultimately ends up tucked into his belt.
finally, he tugs his hood up over his head and turns back to five. and though lalli opens his mouth to speak, it half-closes as the words roll around in his head, like he's not entirely used to actually conversing with others. the words he settles on are: ❱ This doesn't feel right. ❰ all of this, every part of it so far, in a way he can't even put his finger on. ❱