pineslog | ( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a shame Cassian doesn't remember him either, cause Nyx could have really used the help. A name, at the very least. He's started thinking of himself as 'that lost kingsglaive' and he has a feeling that's not what people actually call him. What the heck even was a Kingsglaive?

One of many questions rattling about making his head hurt even worse.

His shoulders tense at the greeting, as if Cassian had taken him by surprise. Gets the feeling he should have known he was there, but everything's fuzzy and he hurts. He turns a little too fast and has to clutch at his injured arm under the coat for a moment.]

...hey.

[Way to go. This conversation is really moving along. Quality conversationalists, these two. Nyx winces and tries again, vaguely recalling seeing the other man not too long ago.

And something surfaces in the fog a little, something familiar nagging at his subconscious, but try as he might it stays frustratingly out of reach.]

You were at the office, weren't you?

I was, yeah.

[ Something about an accident? He can presume the same thing happened to this guy, actually, on top of...whomever else was at the hospital. What Cassian knows for certain could probably fit in a thimble, honestly, but he just gives a half-shrug. ]

Are you okay?

[ Meaning: 'should you be out of the hospital at all?' ]

[No, he absolutely should not be, but he'd just...really wanted his things. Thought maybe they'd help clear the fog. He does give the question some serious consideration though. There's a time for heroics and now...wasn't it.]

No, I don't think I am.

[He shakes his head, letting go of his arm before the ache can get worse.]

Sorry. Not quite all here.

Where'd they say you were living?

[ Maybe they're...friends? Housemates? Neighbors at the very least, and maybe Cassian can do his Good Deed for the day and make sure this guy gets home okay.

Right? That's...reasonable. ]

[He frowns and looks down at the bag they gave him. There's a package inside wrapped in paper, and a glimpse of another jacket like the one he's wearing that's worn and burnt. The sheriff didn't...have much for him. But he did throw the key in there. Hadn't so much as looked at it, much less thought about how...he apparently had a place to live.

Nyx digs in the bag until he finds it, smoothing out the paper that came with it until he can see the address written on it.]

5108. That mean anything to you?

No, but...not much is holding meaning at the moment.

[ Cassian shrugs. ]

I'm at 5004. They probably aren't that far from one another.

You too?

[He glances back at his key before looking around. Were they both just new or was the other man missing memories too?]

Guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?

[He probably has no business walking around right now, but if finding out where he lives solves the question of who he is...he owes it to himself to check. It'd be worth it.]

Yeah. Something tells me it's a trend.

[ Accidents. Memory loss. The hospital seemed to be full of people asking similar questions and getting similar answers and it strikes Cassian as wrong but he has no context for why and thus...isn't sure. ]

Pretty much. I'd ask what you think happened but I doubt the signs are just for show.

[ Another thing that's got him feeling uneasy. ]

I remember an accident. Fire.

[He looks a little ill at the reminder of just how he got his injuries. His aches throb in time with his pulse. He shouldn't be walking around. He shouldn't even have a pulse.]

Bits and pieces. Probably just knocked my skull around too hard.

[He turns again, looking down the other street.]

Bet it doesn't matter which direction we pick. Home's gotta be one of them.

Huh.

[ Because Cassian doesn't remember fire, but he's too busy peering at Nyx to gauge his reaction to worry much about that. The other man looks like he might be sick, and...yeah. That's weirdly understandable, all things considered. ]

I can probably count on one hand the things that I know for certain right now, so.

[ Cassian glances around and shakes his head. ]

All paths lead to the destination, [ That's not quite right, but. He shrugs. ] Did they discharge you with any medication?

[ They can walk and talk, right? Because Cassian is going to slowly start moving in one direction, anyway. ]

[Discharged with medication? If only.] Yeah...funny story about that.

[Nyx probably should have waited to be discharged before trying to figure out where he, or his stuff, was. He winces and moves to catch up.]

Yeah, well, I didn't exactly stick around either.

[ And he doubts they were the only ones. Still, Cassian makes sure to adjust his stride so he's not walking too quickly (besides, his back is killing him. ]

What do people talk about when they don't remember a fucking thing?

[He probably doesn't have to say how grateful he is for the slower page. Every step wants to jar up along his shoulder.]

Not the past, apparently.

[Those signs weren't doing much to help their predicament and it makes him uncomfortable to think about.]

Yeah, my bullshit detector is ringing.

[ Cassian huffs, pulling the coat tight near his neck. He peers at another sign; exactly the same as the one before it, before he glances at the clear night sky.

That feels weird, and he's not even sure why. ]

I'd be worried about you if it wasn't. Something tells me we know better.

[A vague...understanding? He can't say it's a memory, but he can't say that it's not either. More a series of impressions like this isn't the first time he's been walking through unfamiliar streets with this man trying to figure out a particularly irritating puzzle.]

[ Cassian snorts at that, shaking his head a little. ] Maybe has something to do with the fact that we both look like hell but still left the hospital?

[ Maybe. Maybe not. Something itches at the back of Cassian's mind and he's immediately annoyed that he can't just figure it out but he guesses he'll have to just...wait. See what happens.

Doesn't sound like the sort of thing he'd really prefer to do, in any case, but there are only so many options to an amnesiac in an unfriendly town. ]

That's gotta be it.

[They make it to the next block and Nyx slows, staring distantly at the far corner for a moment before looking around frowning.]

Wait...

[He turns, actually looking at the buildings around them. The streets, the signs, the decorations in the windows. Maybe...maybe it wasn't quite as unfamiliar as he thought. He gets the vague impression that he's walked this way before.]

I think I know this street.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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jesus christ i was the worst at tagging this month I'M SORRY

that's fine, apparently it takes me a week to type up a tag I wrote the day I got this ;;

let's be slow together!!

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