( 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

[illustrious]

[He leans over a bit to get a better look at the writing, just to make sure he's getting it. With that gesture...]

Mr. Eshkol? [He attempts a careful pronunciation, though it's clear it's a foreign name to him.] Is that it?

[The fact that he didn't respond vocally says a lot. This was really weird, but Rohan was intrigued, so he thinks he'll try to be patient.]

[bearswitness]

[ Yes, that's him, standing around and writing his own name in the snow of someone's yard. Don't worry, he knows it's stupid. His shoulders rise and fall with a silent sigh, and he pushes himself fully to his feet.

Well, may as well make this an actual introduction.

The man's question gets a nod, then he gestures to Rohan and adds a curious tip of his head. Your turn, buddy. ]

[illustrious]

[Oh... It's not a terribly complicated gesture to understand. It was really only polite to return the man's "introduction" with his own name. And normally, he wouldn't really hesitate to share it, but...

Rohan frowns.]

Sorry. I would tell you my name, but I can't remember it.

[He didn't mean to be rude... For once...]

[bearswitness]

[ Well that's a stupid answer, isn't it. Nevermind that Eshkol can't even remember why he doesn't have a mouth, and should have a bit of sympathy for a faulty memory. Still, it doesn't stop him from delivering a dead, unimpressed stare, and then a silent huff with a toss of his head. Fine.

He lays one hand out flat and mimes writing on it with the other, then glances expectantly up at Rohan. If he doesn't have a name, surely he at least has a notebook and pen Eshkol could borrow. Writing in the snow is terribly ineffective. ]

[illustrious]

[What's with that reaction...?! If anyone should be inconvenienced by not knowing his name, it's definitely himself!

He doesn't appreciate the reaction, but despite that, he obliges anyway. No harm in that, and it would be easier to communicate like this. He reaches for the sketchbook (that he presumes to be his own, but who really knows) and flips to a blank page, offering it to Eshkol along with a pen.]

Here.

[bearswitness]

[ He briskly snatches up the pen and sketchbook, hovers over the blank page for a moment ... then changes his mind, apparently. He tucks the pen behind an ear instead and curiously flips back to some of those non-blank pages for a look at whatever's there. This conversation isn't so pressing that he can't indulge some curiosity. By, you know, snooping right in front of the sketchbook's owner. ]

[illustrious]

[What is this... Rohan doesn't really feel any sort of protectiveness over the book or the drawings, but he is offended by the audacity. Who just does that...!

He wears an unimpressed expression, but he doesn't move to stop him, at least, waiting (im)patiently instead for Eshkol to do his thing. Despite it being a sketchbook, though, all of the drawings in it are completely refined and polished. Everything is drawn in ink, with not a single stray pencil mark to be seen. (In fact, there's nothing to indicate a pencil had ever even been used here at all.) The drawings range from cartoon-ish characters to more realistically-detailed backgrounds and landscapes.]