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

[ Aranea's left her store in search of lunch, so things are going to have to be pretty interesting to distract her from the sandwich she's envisioning. Turns out a kid in a cape and a lost expression is kind of interesting, today. He looks a little like a hopeless case, but hey. It's only a month ago she was wandering around in a hospital gown, forgetting damn near everything about herself. If the kid managed to dress himself he can't be too bad off.

When she hears him talking to himself as she passes, she pauses to lean in conspiratorially. Hopefully he's not the jumpy type. ]

Why talk about the past there's more interesting stuff to dig into? Like the fact that you're wandering around with what looks like a hospital pudding cup. I always figured one of the best things about being out of hospital was no more hospital food.

_{[In his defense, it's been a rough couple of days. Coming round with full-body aches and next to no memories (and the ones that do seem like they came out of the Sociopath's Handbook), only to be told he has to go back to his life here with the catch that he's ostensibly not supposed to think too hard about what his life was...

Factor all of that together, and he feels his masculinity ought to be spared the thirty lashes its earned by not hearing someone come up beside him while muttering at a piece of paper on a telephone pole. He starts, eyes popping wide--but not entirely because Aranea caught him unawares in a moment of existential crisis.

A babe in the wild! (You don't need all your faculties intact to use your eyes, as it turns out. Put that in his medical chart, doctors.)]}

--Uh. Huh?

_{[Also in his defense, he probably wouldn't have a much more eloquent opening line even with all of his memories intact when someone with Aranea's cheekbones leans into his personal space.

He looks down at the food item that's more or less composed 3/4s of his diet since regaining consciousness and frowns a little without realizing he's doing it.]}

Is it that... obvious I came from there? _{[Kind of, Jack, kind of.]} They were free. So kind of in my price range.

_{[Apparently he hadn't thought to bring his wallet along before he got into a terrible accident, and he hasn't really figured out if he has anything to his name in his town that didn't come out of a moving box.]}

Only to someone who's been there.

[ Which is intended to be halfway comforting. If he's part of this fresh batch she's heard about -- and ain't that a hell of a thing -- he's going to learn pretty soon that people who've been there make up about half the town.

It hasn't been nearly long enough for her to forget how unsettling that whole deal was, and his reaction makes her smile, so what the hell. She's a business owner now, she can afford a little benevolence. ]

That's depressing, kid. I'm not gonna spend my lunch break worrying about you, so you're coming with. Let's go.

_{[Rationally, he's seen the crowded hospital for himself, and the strangely bloated number of bedridden (or recently bedridden) patients for a middle-of-nowhere town, but it's another thing to hear someone else say they were in the same boat. His eyebrows rise.]}

You, too--like, as a patient?

_{[He wouldn't have guessed it to look at her. Aranea, simply put, looks like she has her shit together. Jack probably looks like he fell off the back of a truck and just so happened to end up on this patch of sidewalk.

It's a little comforting knowing he's not alone. And... a little worrying for the exact same reason.]}

Yeah, sorry. _{[Flapping in the breeze like this is kind of depressing, he can't argue that. And it's not even this poor lady's problem... except she's making it hers, if he just heard her correctly. That's a big 'if'. Jack blinks, nose scrunched like he's in serious doubt he did just hear that. If his memory's anything to go by, he's not really in a position to trust himself.]} Just checking, but you don't, um... know me, right?

_{[Will that ever get less awkward to ask? Sources say no.]}

[ The hospital question gets a brief nod, and then she's moving -- one hand in the middle of Jack's back, right between his shoulderblades in an attempt to steer him, too. A publicly held conversation about the strangeness of just how many people run through that hospital is somewhere near the very bottom of her to-do list. Lunch, however, remains high. ]

Nope. So I'd appreciate it if you could not turn out to be a baby serial killer. Name's Aranea, by the way.

_{[Ah--okay, they're walking. Jack follows the woman's lead without resistance, which perhaps says something about where his head is at. He doesn't have the room for concerns about stranger danger, and as much as she looks like a stranger on the surface, he can't help the dim feeling he knows her in some capacity, though by her own admittance she doesn't recognize him.

Somebody he's passed on the street, maybe? But surely he'd remember someone with looks that stand out in a crowd like those.

Aranea, she says. As Jack allows her to guide him on, the notice paper falling out of sight behind them, he tries her name on for size in his mind. Aranea.

... Why does that make him think of underwear? (And not in the usual way good-looking gals make red-blooded young men think of underwear.)]}

I don't think I am. I'm Jack, I know that much.

_{[And if Jack were thinking clearly, his instincts for lame jokes would compel him to come back with something flippant like "I only kill adults, not babies" and pair it with a smile to match, but he just cuts her an inquisitive glance, not so much nervous about his new company as confused. As confusion is more or less his new baseline, he's coming to roll with it.]}

And... where are we going?

_{[Because apparently they're going somewhere.]}

Edited 2017-03-10 11:02 (UTC)

Well, Jack, if it all starts to come back and you remember that you are, try to think of me as a nice lady who bought you a sandwich rather than a potential victim.

[ It's all said with a smile and a lazy drawl, zero concern that he actually might be a serial killer. Seems like in a small town like this people'd know if there was one on the loose, even if he did have an adorable baby face. Speaking of small towns, they're almost there by the time he even asks, and she sweeps her arm towards the shop front in a gesture that communicates "behold!" as much as possible when you're operating on 35% fucks to give. ]

Lagomarcino's.

[ Not, to the possible relief of a young man who's just been collected on the street by a stranger who immediately turned the conversation to serial killers, a white van. And yet it's still full of candy -- shelves and shelves of it, which Aranea points past to the deli counter at back. ]

You'd think it'd be pretty hard to screw up a sandwich when it's just stuff between bread, but the first time I ate here I realized I'd been screwing up sandwiches my whole life.

_{[Her cavalier manner sets him at ease, though he wouldn't be able to put his finger on exactly why if pressed. Like the nurse that had been at his beside when he first woke up, she's brisk in the way of keeping to her own schedule, forcing him to keep up or be left behind, but not in a surly way. Not like--

Once again, he can feel himself grasping in the dark, trying to brush up against a name that insistently shies away, just out of reach.

Well, whatever. He has a person right here to focus on, one that's a little more tangible than an ephemeral wisp of memory.]}

Lago what?

_{[She's talking to a kid who's so far contented himself on a limited diet starting and ending with whatever the hospital nurses deign to feed him, pudding rationing aside. That's a mouthful.

Inside, Jack does a full 360 degree turn, taking in the shelves of candies--too many to name--as if laying eyes on the shop for the first time. There is no 'as if' about it--this is his first time so much as he can remember, and the look he gives Aranea is brimming with the same curiosity Charlie Bucket had his first two steps into Willy Wonk's chocolate factory. Edging it is some chagrin, too--Aranea's already done more than most strangers would just by bringing him here.]}

Are you sure? I don't want to put you out or anything. The hospital food's really not that terrible. _{[Even if he kind of does want to ask her more about what put her in the hospital long enough for her to be able to recognize a fellow escapee.]} With the number of people in recovery, you'd break the bank taking them all out for lunch.

[ Well, if she wasn't sure before, she is now. The look on his face is more than enough for that. That blend of childlike curiosity and the need to double check, to make sure he's not imposing, makes her think of Prompto. Children are probably not a thing that's going to happen for them and she doesn't mourn that, but the thought's enough to make her at least want to do one good thing for this kid. ]

I try to limit myself to one a day, and just the ones who look like lost puppies. Keeps costs down. Anyway, you've probably got questions, right?

[ Everyone has questions. Answers are limited. But she figures that's enough, and leans over the counter to order a reuben, a cherry soda, and "whatever the kid's having" before leaving him to it and settling at a table. If he stays, he stays. If he leaves... well, it's a mess narrowly avoided and she should probably feel relieved instead of feeling anxious about it. ]

_{[Making himself somebody else's problem doesn't seem like a nice thing to do to other people; when looking in the mirror, the person staring back at him seems old enough that he should be able to figure out his food and housing situation on his own, clear head or no clear head.

He's not sure how he knows, but he knows he doesn't have parents to look after him--maybe he never did. That should lend a guy a sense of independence, shouldn't it?

But it's hard... this, all of it. It's really hard. He appreciates having someone new to talk to that isn't just another no-nonsense nurse doing her job, and gratitude is a thick emotion in his chest that he does his best not to wear on his face. He's definitely too old for watery smiles.]}

I'll take it as a compliment I look more like the dog in the pet store window than a rabid serial killer dog biting the hand that feeds it. _{[Possibly literally, if she really means to do a strange kid a solid.]} Thanks. I mean, really, thanks. I--could use some company that isn't me, myself, and I.

_{[This is probably not how the Jack of Christmas Past ever planned to go on a lunch date with a cute girl. Who is he to ignore the universe when it's so clearly smiling at him?

A squint at the overhead menu for a long moment (it all looks good, and it all looks unfamiliar) before:]}

I guess... I'll have what she's having?

_{[There's some interspecies action taking place here--it's possible to be a lost puppy and a copycat at the same time.]}

[ Me, myself and I he says, and it only confirms for her that she's made the right choice in taking a little time for him. There are plenty of people who are wandering around confused right now -- more every day -- but most people seem to have some kind of connection here, at least.

She's gotten soft since she left the army, apparently. Not that she's going to admit that. She waves him over instead, pushing a chair out for him with her boot under the table. ]

Good choice. You alone here?

_{[Settling into the seat she offers up with her foot, he tosses his empty pudding cup into a nearby trash bin. It arcs neatly, a perfect throw. Whatever's wrong with him, it's not his hand-eye coordination. Maybe he's a basketball player in his old life.

It doesn't feel like that, though. It feels like he was surrounded by people, but his life--their lives--were hard. There's something grey and barren about the memories he plucks out of the murk. Something that smells of gunpowder and steel.]}

Yeah. I mean... no. Kind of.

_{[Her question becomes a confusing thing when taking that all into account, and Jack fills the silence before his answer with a soft, tittering laugh, nerves on display, the second pudding cup an eyesore on the tabletop that he slides back and forth between his friends.]}

I don't remember much before a couple of days ago--everyone keeps saying I'm lucky to be alive. I think I have family here, but I don't remember them well. So it kind of feels like I am.

_{[But he doesn't want to be that person ungrateful for their second chances or the people who care. Nyx's relief at seeing him at been genuine, and now Aranea, sharing her time with him-- It's worth looking up from his hands and smiling.]}

But it could be worse. No one's taken me out for food two seconds after meeting me before.

_{[Well, that he can remember. But what are the chances more candid women like Aranea have pulled him off the street, just like that? Come on. No dude is that lucky.]}

Edited 2017-03-15 10:09 (UTC)

[ She watches the pudding cup complete its perfect journey into the bin and raises one pale eyebrow -- high praise, from her. But then he's talking about memories and the gaps in them and she nods along, flashing a sharp smile at his comment about being taken out. ]

Memory stuff's normal. Or at least it's crewed up in the same way for me and most of the people I know. Sucks, but you're not alone.

Did you end up in hospital because of an accident?

_{[Jack absorbs this information slowly, blinking a couple of times in a way that clearly indicates he hasn't considered the sheer number of accident victims might all be interconnected. Nyx had said as much, but he'd assume their mutually spotty memories had to do with being together, or their injuries, or something else along those lines.]}

Yeah... Yeah! Whoa, did that happen to you?

_{[Two's company, but three's... something. And that's not taking into account the rest of the patients he'd seen at the hospital but hadn't had a chance to compare stories with.]}

Edited 2017-03-17 08:31 (UTC)

My husband, too. Separate accidents at the same time, both of us got our memories scrambled. Hell of a thing.

[ And she's trying to tiptoe around it, she really is - knows from her own business that at least some of the local establishments are bugged - but there's a sour tone to the way she says that last part that probably gives away just how shady she thinks the whole situation is. ]

We all just probably need to be extra careful until things are back to normal.

_{[That's... not really what he was hoping to hear when he wanted to talk to more townspeople and maybe dig up some people who recognized him.]}

Both of you? _[Squint.] And that's why you were in the hospital? That's a freaky coincidence.

_{[Squint squint. Yeah, real freaky. Like, lighting striking the same place ten times in a row kind of freaky.]}

Did you get your memories back?

_{[The last question is one rooted in personal reasons, ones he tries not to advertise but which probably peek through anyway.]}

We're pretty big on freaky coincidences around here. Gives the place a real sense of community.

[ That and all the surveillance, which is the main contributing factor to why she goes quiet as their food is delivered to the table -- though she does spare a wink for the server, because lowkey harassing people is a hard habit to shake. Once they're gone she takes hold of the straw in her drink, idly stirring it with a clatter of ice. ]

They're trickling back. My accident was about a month ago, so I must've cracked my head good. I'm lucky to be going through it in such a nice, quiet place.

[ Just globs of sarcasm dripping off that one; the emphasis she puts on the word quiet probably isn't doing her any favors, if anyone's actually listening. ]

My best advice is take it slow, and stick close to the people you know.

_{[The rules not making sense to him doesn't stop them from being rules. Jack bites his lip as the server nears with their food--a two-pronged defense against blurting out something personal in earshot, and hiding his amusement as Aranea startles a good-humored, if confused, smile out of the shop employee.

Dang, look at her go.]}

You're a cool lady on top of being nice.

_{[One of many observations about Wayward Pines he's made of late. But her obvious unhappiness with the situation draws his attention away from the food (which, yeah, totally looks better than hospital food, kudos to you, Aranea), his brow furrowing.]}

You're both okay, though? _{[So that's good, isn't it? A solid start to getting back on the mend?]} Mm... I remember being with people, but I haven't seen any of them around yet. I know they just gotta be out there--I just don't remember who they are to look them up or anything. Sucks, huh? Was it the same for you before stuff started coming back?

_{[Little does Jack realize he's walking that fine line between life then and now. The children in the red capes don't feel like the past, they feel like the present, like if he just knocks on the right door he'll find them and everything out of order will slot into place.

That feeling of being home--it's there, somewhere.]}

I try.

[ Easy there, Jack. She's already go a pretty high opinion of herself. Her complete lack of selfconsciousness it pretty well illustrated by the gigantic bite of sandwich she takes while he's talking. At least she swallows before she answers. ]

We're fine. And the memory stuff -- well, you repeat this in front of him and I'll call you a liar to your face, but I didn't even remember I was married until the huz walked in the front door.

That why you're still kicking it at the hospital? Can't figure out where you're supposed to be?

_{[Self-conscious as he feels wheedling lunch from a stranger who doesn't know him from a hole in the head, his stomach gives a unanimous yes, please to having a whole sandwich all to himself. He's been eating so much since he woke up, it's like his body is trying to make up for something it lost.

Following Aranea's example, he takes a healthy bite out of his, considers a second, then comes to the conclusion she's definitely knows her foods, too.]}

You were right about these sandwiches.

_{[He puts the back of his hand to his mouth so he can laugh without spraying crumbs everywhere.]}

Secret's safe with me, it's the least I can do. _{[It helps that he doesn't know what her husband looks like, so less chance of his letting the amnesiac cat out of the bag.]} Sounds like me. I... didn't remember I was adopted until I almost passed the guy who took me in on the street. Like a flash and then the blindfold came off.

_{[The hospital's an anchor in rocky waters--home base until he knows where home really is.]}

I'm not officially discharged yet. I'm hoping they'll fix me up before then.

_{[A tall order because there is a lot wrong.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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autocorrect getting 'friends' from 'hands' made me laugh so hard, idek why

it was drunk

autocorrect, let's go to a meeting

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