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

a:
[After making a fuss at the hospital ("Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," fellow patients may have heard him call down the hallway. "I'm actually famous, you know. Are you sure there's nothing you can tell me?") and reclaiming his things at the police station, Rohan ended up at the local used bookstore. Although the nurses insisted his wild claims were due to head trauma, the items that were returned to him seemed to line up with one of the few things he could remember—he was definitely an artist. But if he was famous, then surely he could find some trace of himself here, right...?

So there Rohan is in the bookstore, a frustrated look on his face as he flips through comics and art books, hopelessly looking for something that resembles the works in his sketchbook. It isn't hard to glean that he might be new—he's wearing short sleeves and doesn't appear to have a coat in sight—but he doesn't seem concerned with newness. All he cares about is finding something familiar, and so far, he's had no luck.

The longer he's there, the more likely it seems like he might start tearing pages...]

b:
[Rohan leaves the bookstore with no more information than he started with. The only other hint he had was a name, and while there were not positive feelings associated with it (far from it, in fact), it was the only thing he had that was very clear and specific. It was probably a long shot, but...

As he heads to the address he was given by the sheriff, he approaches anyone he might see out and about in the housing district.]

Hey... Maybe you can help me. Do you know who lives around here?

[Books. They're one of the few things aside from the telly that helps while away the time. She doesn't visit often but she is there today. She catches sight of Rohan, notes the look of frustration on his face, and can't help but wonder if he's one of the new patients from the hospital. It's hard to tell so after shooting a glance at the store owner to make sure they're not being watched, she steps closer and asks in a friendly but soft tone.]

Are you looking for something?

[This woman didn't strike him as someone who knew much about art (an entirely arbitrary conclusion reached after sparing her nothing more than a glance), but he supposed it couldn't hurt to ask...

Rohan reached for his sketchbook, flipping to a page of fully-inked drawings. The artwork looks pretty professional.]

This. I'm looking for the name of the artist who drew these. Do you recognize any of it?

[She actually tries to look and remember but ultimately shakes her head.]

I'm afraid not. I haven't seen a book around here with art like that so far.

[That's pretty much the answer he expected, but he frowns anyway.]

That's what I thought. This work appears to be one of a kind. [He didn't doubt that it was his, honestly, but he had hoped he could learn more about... Well, anything if he could just find it here.] Compared to everything else, the style is pretty unique.

["Unique" was an understatement. Everything here seemed so... outdated and unpolished compared to the things in this sketchbook.

(Of course he thinks it's good, though. He didn't remember drawing it but he was sure he did.)]

It is quite unique. Where did you get it? [She has a guess but it doesn't hurt to ask instead of assuming.]

I picked it up from the police station. [He says thoughtfully, closing the sketchbook.] I suppose that would mean it's mine.

[He hadn't attempted to draw anything yet, so he supposed it was entirely possible that it wasn't his. But he was pretty sure that he was an artist... Unless there was something wrong with his memories, too.]

It's possible. Have you tried drawing, yet?

[It seems the most obvious solution.]

No, I haven't. To tell the truth, I wouldn't know where to start.

[Maybe he should? It's true that the drawings in the book were pretty elaborate, but if he really was an artist, then how hard could it be, right?

He reaches into his pocket.]

I do have a pen.

[But just a pen. No pencil. That's... kind of weird.]

I have paper here. [She holds up a nondescript book.] I can tear a page out if you'd like. It's not a sketchbook but it should suffice. [something she will do once he says yes]

I'll take it. I suppose I won't know unless I try.

[And it was probably better than scribbling in a book that may end up not being his after all. He didn't really take issue with possibly destroying someone else's property, but it still wouldn't be worth the trouble when he already had so many other problems to deal with right now.]

[She flips it open to a page near the back,ripping out a page to hold out to him]

Here.

[He accepts the piece of paper and places it on the sketchbook, giving himself a solid surface to work against. The only question now, probably, was just what the heck he was supposed to draw...

He looks around for a moment. Maybe he could just try sketching something he sees, or a caricature or something. He puts the pen to paper, initially thinking that he'd have to take it slow and be careful, except... when he tries to draw, it actually comes to him quite easily. There's so little effort involved, it was like he didn't even have to think about it. In seconds, there's a neat, fully-inked drawing on the piece of paper. It's a cartoon-ish character based on someone who passed by the aisle just now.

Rohan blinks. Even though he was the one who drew it, he looks surprised.]

Did you see that? You did, didn't you?

[His hand moved so fast... That wasn't normal, right? He's pretty sure that isn't!]

(no subject)

oncekind - 2017-04-07 16:13 (UTC) - Expand

[After so many hours, his parents have yet to come home, and even more boggling is the lack of his sister's presence. Once he determines that it's pointless to sit and wait, Izumi wanders the street in front of his house, searching for clues of his own when he's stopped by a man with remarkable hair.]

I do. [His next breath resembles a chortle.] Apparently. Are you looking for someone?

["Apparently?" Was he being insulted for asking, or was he in a similar (mysterious) position? Too soon to tell, maybe. (But of course he wonders this, being the exact kind of person who'd respond that way to begin with.)

Well, he already got his attention, so he might as well explain.]

Yes. I'm looking for... [...um. How to describe it?] Someone.

[Smooth. He had no fond feelings to go with the name, but being honest would probably be too suspicious. He doesn't elaborate.]

His name is Josuke. Do you know anyone by that name?

[Just from that pause, he can tell it's a complicated relationship.]

I know a guy named Yosuke. [According to Izumi's immediate memory, he knows two things about Yoneya: 1) Yosuke is his first name, and 2) he's an idiot. As far as the actual name in question is concerned, though:] I'm sorry, but I don't recognize the name. What does he look like?

[That... was a very good question. He couldn't remember, so he couldn't say. He considers this thoughtfully for a moment before he admits:]

I don't recall. It's been a while. [Probably?? Who knows.] I'll have to keep looking. Thanks anyway.

[It was weird to have a name clearly in his mind but no face to match it... On the other hand, he was sure that if he saw him, he'd definitely recognize him. But that wasn't very helpful.]

Do you live close by?

[It takes longer than that to forget a face, but who is Izumi to judge? Instead, he points to the house to their right.]

Right over here. Nobody's home, though, so I've been waiting. It's kind of cold out, but the air's refreshing, don't you think?

[The cold can't be helped. He doesn't have clothes meant to be worn for the winter or spring season.]

It's better than being stuck in that stuffy hospital.

[Rohan wasn't dressed for the weather, either, so it probably would've been smarter to just get inside. His curiosity took priority, though, and the people in the hospital had been absolutely useless. Even though he hadn't found much, he'd rather be out and about.]

Don't you have a key?

[Did this kid get locked out or something... Good job, kid.]

[Please, he isn't that stupid. The key is in his pant pocket. At the mention of the hospital, however, Izumi cants his head slightly to the side. This man doesn't look all that warm, either.]

I do – but were you just discharged from the hospital, too? Maybe there really was some kind of an accident.

I was. [Huh...] You don't think that's true?

[He's not judging (for once). He's just curious. He hadn't doubted that there was an accident, really, though he could certainly agree that the circumstances were strange. It seemed like a pretty reasonable explanation for not remembering things...

Then again, maybe that was too easy?]

It's not that I doubt what happened. I don't remember what got me in there, so I can't say either way.

[He shrugs. The reason he was in the hospital doesn't weigh on him. In fact, it's another fact before that that piques his curiosity.]

Isn't it weird, though? Someone I talked to mentioned there being another accident before this one. Maybe this town's got a serious case of bad drivers.

[He has a point. There was nothing strange about having been in an accident, but how could so many of them have ended up in accidents around the same time? Just what kind of accidents were happening here?

If he could remember what Stands were, he'd absolutely suspect this of being some kind of Stand attack.]

It's too strange to be a coincidence. [But then again, it was far from the first thing about this place that seemed "off." What was really going on here...?] I want to know more about this place. I wonder how common these "accidents" are.

[Too bad Rohan is not able to suspect and thus useless –

Izumi would also like to know more about Wayward Pines, though that stems more from the desire to not wander around like an idiot than anything else. Were he more knowledgeable, he'd do his best to answer Rohan's curiosity; however, he just doesn't have the knowledge base for it.]

You'd have to ask someone else. My memories are still pretty muddled . . . From the sounds of it, yours must be, too. It's been a long day, so a good night's rest might help.

[Who knows; that alone might answer some questions.]

[what's the point of a jojo that doesn't suspect an enemy stand, tbh

He supposes Izumi's conclusion is reasonable enough, however. With rest and time, it was entirely possible that their memories would come back to them naturally... But truthfully, Rohan was far too curious to just stop now. He didn't expect to find all the answers, but some answers, any answers, would help sate this curiosity of his.

On the other hand...]

I suppose we'll have to go inside sometime... [Rohan looks toward the house, thoughtfully.] There might be something interesting inside. We might be able to learn more about this place.

[It might not be much, but it was worth a try, right? Even something was better than nothing.

Meanwhile, the house: ゴゴゴゴゴゴ]