( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

waking up

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed. You're sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember getting, not to mention the vaguely-healed remnants of any wounds you might've had before.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog if not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

Whether or not the room's 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. Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma “from the accident”. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave... Then you'll be left alone. The hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You can even leave your room without much fuss - whichever doctor or nurse intercepts you gets called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Mingle, visit your fellow patients, even poke around for a few basic answers. Or maybe, maybe just stroll right on out the front door.

heading outside

One step outside and it's perfectly clear that your hospital gown simply isn't going to cut it for long. the sidewalks and buildings covered in snow and a crisp winter wind whipping at you through the thin cloth. It's like a scene out of a holiday greeting card or a snow globe, picturesque and nearly untouchable. And yet you're here. Touching it all. Dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. You should at least think about getting some mittens if you're going to keep, you know, touching it.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and coated in a thin layer of pure white snow. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Pedestrians spare you glances, some wary and some concerned.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize and one that you might: Wayward Pines Police Department. Whether you asked for yourself or simply overheard, you've likely caught wind by now that all of your earthly possessions now lie with the Sheriff until you see fit to claim them.

Might as well head that way, right?

items reclaimed

So you've visited the Wayward Pines Police Department and reclaimed... well. Most of your stuff, anyway, though you can't quite remember what's missing. Best to put it out of mind, as you head down the steps toward the Main Street sidewalk. At the very least, pedestrians have stopped looking at you like you're sick or crazy. (Then again, depending on what you're wearing, maybe it's gotten worse.)

The sheriff also forked over what looks like the key to a house ("A cozy place to stay while you're here in town."), plus the address that it belongs to. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in.

Or you could stick around Main Street and sight-see a little. Also a perfectly viable option. Hell, maybe it'll jog your memory a little. A few of the shops do feel inexplicably familiar...

( ooc notes )

Welcome to the second newbie mingle log! We apologize for the delay.

This log is meant to cover characters' first day in Wayward Pines. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although the first couple of false Wayward Pines memories might begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the day wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

Any questions about the log or its contents can be addressed to our FAQ or the intro log's designated Plurk.

Comments

[bulletfool]

a. heading outside

[His shoes weren't at the hospital. Ergo, Izumi leaves the hospital with three pairs of socks on his feet, and he looks ridiculous. He hugs himself while shuffling down an unfamiliar street, rubbing his bare arms for the blissful warmth generated by friction. This is the Ninth Circle of Hell.

Eventually, because enough is enough, he flags down a passerby.]

Excuse me! Do you know where the Sheriff is?

b. items reclaimed (java joe's)

[After a most warm welcome – maybe his family had recently moved in? – Izumi wanders the house. Nobody is home. This is weird. Where are his parents, his sister? His mobile phone is dead and can't help him, so he leaves to kill some time outside.

Wandering Main Street in wonderfully warm casual wear (the most important pieces, a pink jacket and sneakers), Izumi peruses the sign plastered on every building before coming to a nostalgic stop in front of Java Joe's. There's yet to be that faint rumble of a dissatisfied stomach, but he's famished. He digs through his pant pockets, his jacket pockets, then pats his pant pockets down, and scowls.]

I don't even have an allowance? Jeez, what kind of a kid am I?

b2. (504X residents)

[Once the day has worn on, Izumi returns home to find it empty, still, with no message or note in sight. Deciding to be proactive, he goes outside to knock on the doors of each neighbor. Should there be a resident present to open the door, he offers a short bow.]

Excuse me! [He's said that a lot today.] Sorry to intrude this late, but I'm looking for my family. Are you familiar with us? We live in 5043.

a.

[overfivethousand]

[Usually, 10K only hits Main Street when he needs to: groceries, odd jobs here and there, working with Lantar at the bar. Mostly, he sticks to the woods, exploring as far as he can, only really stopping back at his house to sleep. Today is one of the former, though, stopping in town to put up a few more flyers about shoveling and picking up a few necessities. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have time to help someone out, especially someone who looks like they're about his age and...fresh out of the hospital?]

Uh, yeah. I can walk you there, if you want, it's not far. Was there another accident?

[He's been stopping by a few times a week for the last month, and he hasn't seen anyone else wandering around in hospital gowns since that first week.]

[bulletfool]

[Izumi's luck is finally starting to shape up. It looks like he stopped the right person for help, although the question about there being another accident confuses him. He shrugs as much as his tensed shoulders allow him. The staff at the hospital hadn't told him anything, so he hadn't bothered.]

I don't know about an accident, but I'd appreciate it if you could guide me. My feet are freezing!

[Actually, his everything is freezing.]

[overfivethousand]

I bet, it's barely above freezing out here. They didn't give you slippers or anything at the hospital?

[He can't give up his only pair of boots, but he can offer the nice warm scarf he's wearing. It's wool and wide enough to at least work as a wrap, while they walk.]

Here, you can wear this. We're only a few blocks away, but we should hurry.

What's your name?

[bulletfool]

Seriously? Thanks!

[What a nice guy! Yoneya, that idiot, would never relinquish his precious scarf. Some friend. With half frozen hands, Izumi wraps the scarf around his bare neck.]

I'm Kohei. Call me Izumi. What about you?

[overfivethousand]

No problem. I can't just let you freeze to death, right?

[He gestures with his head, wrapping his arms around himself as he leads the way.]

I'm Ten Thousand. My friends call me 10K. Don't ask ten thousand what, though. So, what's with the outfit if there wasn't an accident?

[A causal enough question to pass muster on the street. Nothing about memories or the outside, just simple conversation.]

[bulletfool]

[He mulls over the name in his head, and his mind is all made up. 10K is cool.]

I'm not sure. The nurses and doctor were too busy to tell me anything, so I have no idea why I was at the hospital.

[Maybe he should have delayed his discharge. The hospital was warm.]

Well, what's important is that I'm all better now. Just cold.

[overfivethousand]

[Cool? Nah. He's just...zen. That's all. No point in panicking, right?]

Well, maybe they'll know at the station. It's just another three blocks, can you make it?

[It is freezing out, after all, and a scarf is hardly a substitute for good boots and a parka.]

[bulletfool]

[To be sure, his feet are numb at this point, and his skin feels like he was doused in water half an hour ago. But the only recourse is to keep walking – or give up on life and fall to the icy ground, which doesn't sound appealing.]

Don't worry about me. I've come this far, haven't I? The scarf's plenty warm.

I just hope the Sheriff has my shoes.

B

[oncekind]

[Jiaying just happened to pass by as he speaks and she comes to a stop]

Do you need help?

[bulletfool]

[Yes. Please feed him.

But Izumi has his pride, so he shakes his head instead.]

Ah, no. I just found out that I have no money. Actually, my entire wallet's gone . . . [If he ever had one. He wonders aloud to himself:] Maybe the hospital took it as compensation? . . . Doesn't that mean they have my student ID, too?

[oncekind]

Have you gone to the sheriff's? Most everything you own should be there.

[Hospital. Is there another batch of... citizens?]

[bulletfool]

I did, and he gave me some things back. Oh, [rummaging through his jacket pocket, he pulls out a black object.] this was one of them. I'm not sure what it is, though. Does it look familiar to you?

[oncekind]

[She looks at it and shakes her head] No, it doesn't.

I'm sure this is a very confusing time for you. But I can buy you a sandwich this one time. [it would be in her benefit to be owed a favor in any case.]

[bulletfool]

I guess I should have expected that.

[After all, if he doesn't recognize what it is, how is a stranger supposed to know? But in his excitement over hearing about free food – of course, nothing is free, so he'd have to repay the favor in the future, but that's not the point right now – he almost misses his pocket when putting the object away.]

Really!? I mean, I can go home and eat there, but you can't beat a fresh sandwich . . .

[oncekind]

[she chuckles softly] Unfortunately, you do get use to that happening quite frequently.

There were no supplies when I arrived home after my accident so I'd hate to see you go hungry. [With a smile, she turns and makes her way into the store]

[bulletfool]

[He notes to himself to check the state of the supplies once he returns home. For the time being, he follows the woman inside, trying not to drool – and failing a little.]

Thank you! I'll return the favor someday.

[It's not until they're settled, however, that Izumi poses the question that's been on the tip of his tongue:] Ah – you mentioned an accident . . . Were you in one recently?

b2

[paragon]

[ Steve's pretty sure their doorbell is working just fine, so he looks up from the lesson plans spread over the surface of the coffee table with a frown before getting up to answer the knock. He glances through the peephole before opening the door, letting the chill into the house and undoing the last couple hours of effort from the fireplace to warm it. They've found using the thermostat tends to heat the second floor more effectively, but despite Izumi's apology for the hour, it's too early for bed.

Steve's brow is still a bit furrowed after he listens to the rest, but his mind must be greased for it after having his head buried in lesson planning because after a moment he realizes he does know how to answer. He lets out a quiet sigh. ]

Sure, I know you, Izumi. [ He steps to the side slightly. ] Why don't you come on in.

[bulletfool]

[ At the mention of his surname, Izumi's eyebrows arch higher under his fringe. That's a surprise. The man exudes a familiar vibe, although he's yet to place why. With a curt nod, Izumi slips one shoe off to get a foot in the door before removing the other shoe. ]

Thank you.

[ With his shoes hooked on his fingers, Izumi straightens. There'll be no flakes of snow in this home. He cracks a crooked smile, his next exhale colored with mirth. ]

I'm sorry, but I got out of the hospital earlier today. I'm having trouble remembering things. How do we know each other?

[paragon]

[ If you ask him, it's a little too cold for that, but Steve's not gonna tell the kid he can't be polite. He's been accused of the same once or twice. He just shuts the door as soon as Izumi's clear of it and nods toward the bench nearby. ] You can leave 'em there, if you like.

[ He doesn't wait to check that Izumi does — it's up to him if he wants to keep them close to hand and foot, given that Steve's house is essentially a stranger's to him. Instead he says, ] It's warmer in the other room, [ cocking his head slightly to indicate the direction before he turns and starts to walk to the other end of the foyer, answering Izumi's question as he does so. ]

I teach at the school. Art.

[bulletfool]

[ Without much thought, he leaves the shoes behind as advised. Everyone is a stranger to him, and Izumi doesn't have much in the way of natural wariness to make him suspicious of people's intentions. As far as he's concerned, this is someone offering a comfortable, warm place to talk. ]

Art? [ He echoes with a stifled chuckle. ] I wasn't expecting that! Am I in your class? How do I draw?

[ Lousily. He probably needs a ruler and protractor for everything. ]

[paragon]

[ If he's the type of kid to use a ruler and protractor in art class, that probably explains a few things. ]

Exacting, if I remember right. [ There's a chance he doesn't; completely aside from whether or not his impression is an accurate one for the person actually now in his house, Steve's supposed memories of this place are sometimes stingy on details. But he's glad to keep it that way if it's not the truth. He'd rather give Izumi the chance to prove him wrong. He gives him a wry tug at the corner of his mouth — he'll explain what he means soon enough — and leads them into the living room. ]

Have a seat. [ As for himself, Steve sits back down in front of the spread of books and notebooks on the table, though they aren't what have his attention right now. ]

[bulletfool]

[ It's the last-ditch effort of a boy who can't draw, but who still tries for the sake of his pride.

Izumi's gaze drifts to nowhere in particular as he thinks about it. "Exacting," huh. Maybe he's that kind of person. With his muddled memories, he can't confirm if that's true, but so far he trusts the man claiming to be his art teacher, of all things. For that very reason, he takes a seat by the table when asked. His eyes roam the living room before settling on the man again. ]

So, about my parents . . . [ He trails off, interrupting himself. Why would an art teacher have insider info on a student's parents? Sibling makes more sense. ] or is it my sister? I haven't seen any of them all day.

[paragon]

[ Steve shakes his head slightly. ]

I don't know them.

[ There's an apology in the press of his lips, and he takes a moment to find the right words, his eyes going (perhaps a little inexplicably) up toward the ceiling a few feet to his right before returning to Izumi. ]

They might not be here, Izumi. A lot of us have memories of lives here that we can't really trust. Family, too.

[bulletfool]

[ The bomb has dropped. With the lack of context, all Izumi can do is blink. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, he senses that something is amiss. ]

What do you mean, "can't trust"? And if they're not here, where would they be?

[ Moreover, does that mean his memories of the aforementioned family are unreliable? ]