( 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

[banshe]

[ It'd been a few days since her stay at the hospital, since she'd run off feeling crazed and confused about what was happening inside of her own mind. Finding Allison hadn't been the easiest, not with her mental state at the time, impossibilities tearing at her wildly, making it difficult to sort what was real and what wasn't. But she'd had time to cool, to recollect herself and come to understand that she was here to get better. The hospital stay was her recovery from a bad experience in her head and she was here to heal, to get away from the banshee inside of her.

And yet it all still gets the best of her. She dreams of a man on fire, no registration of his face or any other lingering details, only the fire and his silhouette, as if waiting. Sometimes in the day, she can still hear the flicker of something burning, that crackling sound like snapping wood and an everlasting burn. Yet it's more for her to ignore, more fantasies in her head.

But that never stops Lydia's feet. Old habits die hard as she wanders about subconsciously, never really knowing where she's taken to. She finds herself slipping in the edge of the wood, not truly grasping the why, but her feet have a set destination in mind even if they don't communicate with her head.

She sees the tree stump first, like a solid old memory, a fresh image in her mind of what's always been there, not a trick, not possibly a trick. But the man beside it comes into focus, a stranger for a split second before familiarity begins to creep in. She knows him. That focused stare of his eyes, the constant ready stance of a soldier who's never really left a war. The memory throbs in her head as soon as she sees him and she knows he's something real. Medium Americano. Black. Yes, he's real.

But her step staggers and as soon as her boot snaps the branch, the rest of it flows through it like a rushing wind. He'd left. He'd gone. The goodbyes, the kiss, the letters, the explosion. He was gone.

Jordan Parrish died.

She suddenly gasps, tears bundling up as her fingers fly to her mouth, simply staring him over. It was the second time this week that the dead wasn't dead, that reality was playing tricks on her, unable to tell what was true and what was simply her own false hopes trying to peek to the surface. But he looks real, standing there just as she remembers him, at the edge of the tree stump they'd both known so well. ]

Jordan? [ She says quietly with a shaky voice, wet around the eyes. ]

[deputise]

[ Just simply looking at her right now brings memories to the surface for Jordan. They bubble up and crackle. Ashes and embers leaping from the flames. Taking root in his brain. The goodbye. Right here at this tree stump. Hands tangled together as Jordan held her close. She tried not to cry. She really did. Ultimately the tears fell. He wiped each and every one of them from her cheek. His heart ached for leaving her behind. Having to do this. Saying goodbye was too hard. He regretted it. He regretted having to return, but he couldn't change it. Couldn't stop it.

Her voice is reassuring. Reminding him that this isn't another memory come to life. This isn't one of those crackling reminders that nothing quite lined up anymore. This isn't a screaming girl. This isn't flames engulfing. This is real. Tangible. ] Lydia. [ He breathes out her name. It comes out like a heavy sigh. Relieved. Relived to see her and know she was okay. It's so good to see her. The glee churning inside of him. He wants to move, but he hasn't yet. Rooted by the stump. His heart hammers away in his chest.

Then it happens. Like a soundless starter gun went off in Jordan's mind. His feet carrying him forward. For once pushing him towards something real. Something that will fill in a hole. His arms lift and come around her to drag her into his embrace. To press her to his chest and hold her there. ] I didn't think I'd see you again.

[banshe]

[ She'd become so worried about being tricked by her head these days. She'd seen Allison, her best friend whom she was convinced had been gone from her, taken away just like that, remembering the ache in her chest the second her presence had just vanished. But Allison was here, was safe, as if Lydia had dreamt up the whole scene, something that had seemingly been so real at the time. It was impossible to tell what the true story was.

Jordan was an impossibility. Everything he was, like a flickering fire in those very dreams. And he was there, warm and solid arms bringing her in close, the heat of his closeness instantly enveloping her in familiarity.

Hot tears fill her eyes and she doesn't bother to decipher real from fantasy. She felt him, she felt the solid presence of him as she gripped hard at his back, she felt his heart beating near her ear, and it was all enough. ] They said you were dead. [ They said. Who said? She can't even remember now, but it doesn't matter. ] You were dead. How? How?

[ Is this real? Please let it be real. ]

[deputise]

[ There are more gaps than he knows what to do with right now. Everything feels vague and foggy. The accident is in the back of his mind. A reminder of what happened out there in the field. She's as real as the fire feels sometimes. A reminder that he isn't dreaming. He isn't losing it. He isn't back in that hospital just having a mental breakdown after the explosion. He's here. At their spot. The two of them.

It's a haze as to how he got from the hospital overseas to the hospital in town. Must've been a transfer of some sort. Something that happened when he was clearly unconscious. That's the only thing that makes any sense. The most solid thought still remains their hands coming together. The warmth of her fingertips coming around his hand. It's a peace he can't explain. ]

Yeah. I thought I was too. [ Somehow his mind bypasses this. His hand strokes the back of her head. Fingers going through her hair gently. ] I'm not dead. I dunno. I was unconscious for a while. I think I--suffered some burns from the blast. Everything else is still a little foggy for me. They said I probably took a hit to my head.

[banshe]

[ Burns. But aren't any burns. Of course not. Because Jordan Parrish doesn't burn. Neither is he dead. Jordan isn't dead. Jordan isn't dead. She can feel the drumbeat of her heart as she processes that statement, like it requires extra time to consider. And it does, because not quite everything has fit properly on the lines since she'd woken up in the hospital, even after days of recovery.

He mentions his own fogginess and all she can think is two survivors, the both of them getting through accidents separately and somehow finding their way back together. ]

But you're okay. [ He looks it. He feels it. With her hand across his back, she feels the solid strength of muscle, along with the gentleness of his stroking fingers in her hair. ] And you're real.

[ She draws back, with tear-stained eyes, but with a composure in her stare as she swallows and glances at him with concentration. Her hand reaches up to caress the curve of his cheek, palm sliding flat against it to let the circling warmth interchange between skin. ] Tell me you're real.

[deputise]

[ He remembers the heat. The pain. The overwhelming pain. But he doesn't remember his recovery. He doesn't remember his body healing. It's all hazy. What does seem to want to overpower that is a building. Long corridors. His body engulfed in flames. Hunting. Searching. But it seems like a dream. Something that just took over his mind while he struggled to come back. So many gaps. But she's not a gap. Not Lydia. She's there. Strong. Powerful. A presence he can't and won't ignore.

Jordan nods when she says it. But you're okay. He can tell when she's trying to reassure herself. Reminding herself that he's okay. That whatever he did go through is done. He's here. He's alright. He won't leave her side again. His fingers working across his back are reassuring. A blissful reminder that he's not alone like this. They're together. They're back together and he doesn't have to look for her any longer. The search is over isn't it? ]

I'm real, Lydia. I promise. [ His lips curve up into a smile. Warm and reassuring. It seems to be Jordan's default mode. But for Lydia it's more than just a mode. It's him trying to comfort her. His hand comes around to her cheek, but his fingers drift down under her chin. ] I'll show you. [ He responds before leaning in to kiss her gently. A reminder that he's okay. He's in one piece for her.

It feels like aftershocks when he kisses her. His mind rattles and things blur in and out of focus. A car. The two of them. Clothes being torn off and burnt skin, but it's gone before he can focus too heavily. ]

[banshe]

[ His voice is real, that gentle tone of reassurance that he's known to have. He's always used it as an officer, talking to the average citizen, to a struggling victim, but it's different when he uses it with her. It's softer, deeper, like he's saying more than he does.

But when he kisses her, that's when it feels like a dream, her breath caught and lost against his mouth, disintegrating into nothing. It feels like the first kiss and the thousandth all at once, almost convinced that this is the blossoming first if she wasn't so sure it shouldn't be. It hardly matters, because it provides the comfort she needs, the thrill that he's alive, that he's here.

Her arms wrap around his neck, her body leaning into his as she lifts herself closer, foreheads bracing together as she parts their lips to take in a quivering breath. ] I thought you were lost. I thought — [ No, no more thoughts. That wasn't a truth. This was. ] It doesn't matter. [ She lets out a shaky breath, giving him a swift but sweet kiss. ] I've got you now.

[deputise]

[ His body burns hotter when he's close to her. For the first time since he woke up things don't feel foggy. They don't feel hazy. Lydia brings everything into focus. A white hot flash in the back of his head. Just being close to her gives him some clarity. Some comfort. Maybe a number of things occurred to him in their time apart. Things that weren't true. Memories that felt real, but were likely the product of a dream. A very bad dream. ]

Hey--shh. [ He doesn't want her to keep thinking about what could have been. What could have happened. He's here. He's in one piece and they found each other. That's all that matters. This was what mattered. The second kiss makes him smile. He lingers as he studies her face this close. ] You do. [ He reassures her with another kiss. They're together and they made it to their spot. Their tree stump. No one can get to them out here. ] What happened while I was gone?