( 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

[smuttywitch]

The other woman's smirk does a bit to calm Rachel's worry that she looks like a totally crazy flake, even though she still feels like one. And the Canadian comment actually makes her laugh a little too, even though she's not sure why she understands the reference.

She only flushes a little when the woman gives her the cuffs, quickly shoving them back in her bag. At least she'd decided not to take the weird mirror until she had something bigger to carry it in. "Probably not as much as you are." But she wasn't sure that was true. She felt unnaturally cold--yeah, she was wearing a cami top, but the jacket should have been a little more insulating. Maybe she'd been sicker than she'd thought and should have stayed in the hospital? Nope, there was no way in heck she was going back there.

She feels herself trying to raise an eyebrow as she pulls her bag back over her shoulder and stands up to look the woman over a bit better, but it doesn't work. Okay, can't do that eyebrow lift thing. A flash of someone else doing it comes to her, a woman with dark hair--Ivy, the name finally matches a face in her memory--and she files that away for later. "Looks like you were an even bigger hurry than me to hightail it out of the hospital, huh?"

[onteamdyson]

"Me? Nah. I'm tough." Russian Canadian. Another piece of the puzzle. Bred for cold winters and even colder family dynamics. She's also a liar, apparently, because she is freezing but doesn't want to seem weak in front of the stranger with handcuffs. It's just a precaution, some kind of latent survival skill. Fake it 'til you make it.

Kenzi stands after the other woman does, rising as slowly as she'd knelt down. No sudden movements. Maybe the police station is making her nervous, putting her on edge, but she knows it's probably because she's been on edge since she woke up.

"What, this? I am... totally a nurse." No you're not. "On my lunch break." It's not even lunch! Also you have bruises on your face and little cuts on your arms, you aren't fooling anyone, Kenz.

"... Hospitals suck and they can't fix this. No point in sticking around," She finally concedes with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

[smuttywitch]

While Rachel wants to roll her eyes at that, there's something about the way the short woman is posturing that makes her think better of it. Like she really shouldn't question someone being tough based on their size. She can't figure out where that's coming from, though. So she only smirks a little bit as she tries to get her purse into some state of organized chaos so she can at least close it safely.

She does level a withering look at the other woman she tries to claim she's a nurse. "Hey, you don't have to try to feed that crap to me. I would have tried the same thing if I thought I could pull it off with my hair looking like this." She waves vaguely at the giant mass of red frizz. She doesn't think she lets it look like this all the time back home despite the leather and handcuffs and kind of cryptic business cards, but she can't remember how she tames it, and anyway whatever she uses definitely hadn't been in her hospital room.

"I guess I was lucky I remembered how to sneak past nurses even while I was still wearing one of those gross paper gowns," she grins, even though it leaves her feeling nervous and kind of sick that the knowledge of how to break out of a hospital is one of the few things she does remember for sure. "I'm...Rachel, by the way," she hates how she hesitates--it had taken a long time staring at that business card to be sure that was her name, remembering she definitely wasn't Ivy or Jenks because their names made her heart tug in a whole different way. "Rachel Morgan. And I feel a lot less crazy knowing I'm not the only one who made a run for it when I had the chance."

[onteamdyson]

Ha. Nice. This chick's got guts, and a whole lot of hair. Kenzi smirks, even snickers at being called on her bullshit. It feels good to actually talk to someone instead of sneaking around and avoiding people while lying through her teeth. She actually feels like she can trust this person.

"Kenzi." She knows that much for sure, holding up her hand in a small wave. Her last name doesn't come as easily. A few options float by but she can't quite pin it down. She tries to keep the confusion off her face, but it shows in the way her smile strains and she decides to just leave it at that. "Yeah, definitely don't feel too crazy. At least you didn't go totally klepto and immediately start stealing shit before escaping."

Escaping. Like they were being held there against their will. These people were just trying to help them! Why did it feel so wrong? So weird? All Kenzi knew was that she was not supposed to be here. What she didn't know was where the hell she thought she should be.

"There were a lot of peeps up in that hospital. Do you know what happened?"

[smuttywitch]

It's nice not to be glared at or patronized. Rachel can't stop feeling like she's known a lot of both those things, even before she'd been in a hospital full of strangers and then walking the streets in a hospital gown before getting into maybe more questionable leather pants. It hadn't been anything specific--okay, the nurses, kind of, there had been weird memories of when she'd been a kid. The glaring, though. She's not sure where that came from, the way she'd instinctively glared back at all the strangers who'd given her funny looks on her way to the police station.

Or why she'd felt like she fit at the station. God, this was freaky.

"Nice to meet you, Kenzi," she laughs weakly at the comment about escaping. She knew why she'd felt like running. "That would have meant hanging around to find something I could actually fit into. And I wasn't that desperate. Hospitals suck dishwater." That, at least, is a statement she can make without wondering why. Even if she hadn't had way too much experience sneaking out of them, when the smell of the place had woken her up her first thought had been of her dad and that alone had made her trip over her own feet trying to get out of the bed.

Where she would have gone, she still didn't know. Her fingers curl around the car keys she was still shoving in her bag, among the business cards that are still freaking her out. "If I did, I wouldn't have been digging through my bag in the middle of the street like a total flake," she says, trying to smile. "I think I was driving? But I obviously wasn't dressed for snow if this is what I was wearing." She glances down at her tanktop, almost glad she doesn't have much cleavage to be flashing in this chill. "I should have been way more banged up if I went off the road, right?" She blinks, shaking her head, not sure if that's a question or a statement really. "I don't remember. And I couldn't get an answer out of anyone no matter how much I pouted. Nurses are supposed to be suckers for a good pout." At least they had been when she was a kid. "You'd think they'd want us to know what the heck happened so we'd know what to….look out for, side effects or whatever? I don't think they usually let you leave the hospital with amnesia." But if everyone in there had it...ugh, this was weird.

[onteamdyson]

It's not adding up. But then again, there is so much missing and Kenzi doesn't think she's ever been good at algebra. Which, also, COULD BE WRONG? She doesn't know, she has nothing to compare to or pull from and it's frustrating as all hell. She feels like she's going insane and this is some kind of fever dream that she'll wake up from in her own bed... wherever that is.

Kenz frowns, starting to look as concerned on the outside as she's been on the inside since she woke up. Rachel's story is all kinds of similar and that's weird in itself. Maybe they'd been together? No, they would have told them something like that at the hospital.

"There was this... lady. She wasn't a nurse or a patient, she was just there, but she said it's common." Another mystery. Amnesia isn't common. It's not something that turns into an epidemic! "She said she woke up in the hospital a month ago. Same thing. No memories."