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.

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_{[Aside from this dude giving his ribs a good squeeze? He's fine. Or that would be the stock answer if Jack remembered that he's in the business of projecting a certain impression of strength and competency in front of others. Where he's from, and with the rank he holds, it's not great for elite cadets to go around whining about their boo-boos to virtual strangers.

Or hugging them, for that matter.

But he doesn't remember any of that. What does jar something loose is the smell under the smoke and a trace of that antiseptic sterility hospitals seem to all leave behind--warm skin, and maybe a hint of aftershave, and something familial. Something well-known once, but now forgotten. It makes Jack's head spin a little as memories struggle to dig themselves out of the muck of his amnesia.]}

I--ah, I'm all right, I think. They said I was lucky at the hospital.

_{[Among the other things the nurses had divulged, they'd informed him he hadn't been alone in the accident. That he and the man with tattoos in the other room had been brought in together, and he'd get to talk to him soon.

Tattoos. He lingers on the one on Nyx's cheek.]}

You know me. You said my name. _{[An eagerness suffuses his voice.]} Were we... ? Do we know each other? Sorry, my head's all over the place, my memories are hazy.

_{[Try non-existent. But there's something about saying "I don't remember anything" that's too frightening to look directly in the face.]}

Edited 2017-03-10 10:54 (UTC)

[There's a small, pained wince at that. Hazy memories, that's one hell of a knock to the head to begin with, and it got them both?

That doesn't sound right.

Filing that away for thinking about when he's not struggling to walk straight, he grips the back of Jack's neck reassuringly.]

Me too. It's just a fog.

[A quiet admittance. The first he's said it out loud, even to himself.]

But yeah, I know you. I'm sure of it. Couldn't forget such a pain in the ass if I tried.

[Even though he did, for a little while, but at least he's not alone in this. That grip turns into a ruffling of Jack's hair.]

We should get back to the hospital and talk, now that we got our...what is that?

[He'd finally glanced down to the box he'd initially ignored when he went in for the hug. Hadn't cared about in digging into his stomach. But now that he's looking at it he's not sure how the egg wasn't the first thing he saw?!]

The same for you?

_{[The hope in his voice for quick and easy cliffnotes on what's going on falls to disappointment, which is unfair because just looking at him, the guy is in way worse shape than Jack. He shouldn't expect him to be filling Jack in.

His own bandages end at his shoulder, hidden under his clothes, giving Nyx free rein to move his hand from warming the back of his neck to disturbing his thick thatch of blond hair. Like Nyx and his braids, it's clear he must have taken some time to coif it at some point, but long stints of bed rest have done him no favors in that department. A whine starts up in his throat, both at the remark and the hair carnage, though he gamely endures it.]}

Hey! _{[Messing up a guy's tresses isn't a victimless crime, you know.]} What's that supposed to mean?

_{[But it's comforting, being treated with such familiarity, even if it's a bit of an uncertain and disjointed thing on both their parts. The worst part of all of this, he's finding, isn't that he's forgotten himself so much as that he's forgotten other people. How he relates to them, and vice versa. Connections he had but are now missing.]}

That was going to be my next suggestion. You look like you should still be in bed. _{[No offense, Nyx, but with all those injuries you're like a house on legs that's been teepeed on Halloween night. As if just now realizing he's still holding it, Jack shifts the box against him, steadying his grip.]} This? The stuff that was with me when... whatever happened happened. Not sure what it all is. Maybe it'll give us some clues.

_{[Such as why he's got a And Tango Makes Three situation on his hands.]}

I mean that if left to your own devices you never would have survived freshman year.

[The words spill from his lips with confidence, even without a full set of memories behind them, reassuring Nyx that despite the fog, despite the agonizing emptiness that was his life, that it was all still there somewhere, just waiting to come back.

Nevertheless, he leaves Jack's poor abused hair sticking up at all angles, and laughs self-consciously, touching a hand to his injured arm.] You're not wrong. If I didn't value my pants I'd say coming all this way was a mistake.

[He turns idly back towards the hospital, peering into the box.]

If you can tell me what that egg says about us, I'll...owe you some outrageous favor in the future. Just as soon as I remember the things I normally wouldn't do.

... Freshman? You mean, like... school?

_{[That stops him for a second. But it makes sense, doesn't it? That he would be a student?

School. Chalkboards. Lectures. Getting crumbs from snacks stuck in the spines of his notebooks. Yeah, that rings a bell, despite his mind's eye failing to dredge up any relevant examples like a television set that's receiving audio without a picture to go with it.]}

What about you and me? _{[Thoughtfully, he can't help but voice the heart of the problem.]} Are we related? The nurses didn't say. I know I couldn't have gotten this hair from you.

_{[There's an underlying feeling that it's safe to be comfortable around this man, suggesting he knows him well enough to be comfortable, but he's dark where Jack is light. Does being a pair of not half bad looking dudes count as a family resemblance? It's a puzzling thing to be reuniting and not really know who you're reuniting with. They certainly can't be father and son--Nyx looks way too young.

While Jack absently uses his fingers to comb his hair with an unthinking motor memory that indicates it's a thing he's done many times before, he steps up beside Nyx to resume his walk back to the hospital, joining the other in giving the conspicuous white object nestled among his dirtied clothing a look.]}

I like weird paperweights? _{[It's not a terribly convincing idea, and he knows it. He's ran his hands over it, rapped his knuckles on it, and the alarming conclusion he'd come away with is that the egg might genuinely be an egg.]} We're alive, so that's about all that matters, right?

[It's.. certainly a question. Nyx remembers his sister, sort of. Years dead now, but she'd been beautiful before-(his mind blanks, the memory on the tip of his tongue and yet maddeningly distant). She looked like him, accented with a softness he'd lost a long time ago. He couldn't recall their parents, but the chances of either of them being as fair as Jack are slim at best.

And yet...]

Distantly? I...took you in. They don't give kids to complete strangers after all.

[That sounds about right. Did they share a name? It'd be nice to know what that was. Trying to remember was giving him a headache, so he turned his mind to the "paperweight". He walks (hobbles?) quietly for a few moments, contemplating Jack's last comment, too. "We're alive." They very well could not be and that thought was disturbing in a way that didn't feel right.]

I'm not supposed to be.

[It's a soft confession, accidentally released into chill air with more conviction than anything else he's said so far today.]

_{[Nyx's confidence inspires a tentative smile.

They don't give kids to complete strangers after all. If only they knew. If your name's Arecia Al-Rashia, you can have the pick of whomever you want, without needing to be concerned with family ties or blood connections. But the truth is stranger than fiction--with this blank slate to color in, it's easier to assume that there is a connection, that he does have blood relations out there.]}

Good point. Bit of a silly question. I remember some things, some faces, just--not how they all fit together. Sorry I don't remember more. When you hugged me, I felt like I do, like impressions when I close my eyes or something. And I know I remember that rocking hairstyle.

_{[Maybe the blond boy in his memories shares Nyx's taste in haircuts because they all know each other. Easy assumptions. Hopeful leaps in logic. Occupied trying to lure more memories into sharper focus, Jack almost misses the murmur, and looks back uncomprehendingly.]}

Not supposed to be what?

[The amusement he would have otherwise felt at the scattered stuff they both collectively remember (better to just accept that they're stuck for now and keep walking, really) is muted as he realizes what he'd just admitted.

It's like a slap of cold water on an already frigid day and he closes off a little. It feels like an instinctive, guilty reaction to having to backpedal the conversation. His shoulders square off, face becoming a measured expression of everything being okay. Hints of that military background written into the little shifts of weight that collectively scream 'nothing to see here'.]

Oh, nothing. Just muttering to myself. Trying to remember.

[How could he tell this kid he never should have woken up in that hospital? Jack feels close enough to be his brother, if not his son. Talk about the worst conversation to have right now when everything else is uncertain.

Why does he feel like he made the worst parent in the world?]

What's wrong? I mean--you know, aside from the obvious.

_{[His--brother? cousin? uncle? as yet undetermined relative?--looks like he's about to pass out. He should do himself a favor and aim for the snowbank and not the sidewalk if this turns into a serious health scare moment... That's the immediate concern when Nyx stiffens up like he felt someone walk over his grave. (And maybe that's the whole problem.)

Context. Context is what's missing here. He can't judge what that look is on Nyx's face because he can't remember if he's seen it before, or what it's hiding underneath it, and his expression remains curious and unsure.]}

What do you remember you're not supposed to be?

_{[Alive? That doesn't make sense, can't be the source of the quiet mumble and the noncommittal brush-off that follows it. It doesn't make sense. Just like streets with blood running in rivulets between the paving stones doesn't make sense.]}

Edited 2017-03-23 10:14 (UTC)

[Nyx opens his mouth, then closes it as his eyes drift over one of the signs that seem to be posted up all over town. He'd never really paid attention enough to really read it before now, but the point would be hard to miss even if he were blind.

Do not discuss the past.

Unease settles in somewhere just behind the haze of pain and what little he's already certain of. They woke up without memories and weren't supposed to try and figure out what's missing? He turns carefully, looking around the street. There were several people. All of them strangers as far as he can tell. The unease builds, but he can't sit and think about it now. Jack's standing there looking worried.

Nyx licks his lips to give himself that extra second to think, then forces a smile. Forces himself to relax.]

I remembered that I'm not supposed to be out of bed. You might need to help me back.

_{[Nyx looks distracted, looking first one way and then the other, and Jack looks with him, brushing off thoughts of blood by trying to parse out what he's seeing that Jack isn't. Does he know those people? Does Jack, for that matter?

Uncertainty remains, digging a deeper groove between his eyebrows. Getting back to the hospital with professionals who know what they're doing nearby is a good plan, a great plan.]}

Yeah, you don't look so good. Maybe... Do you need my shoulder? I can take your bag.

Nah, I can carry it.

[He does step up to loop his good arm around Jack's shoulders, though. The movement pulls on his bruises and his expression pinches for just a moment, but he doesn't think they'll have much trouble getting back.]

Too cold out here anyway.

[The paranoia doesn't go away, but he can't put his finger on just what it is that's setting off alarm bells. Maybe he's just tired.]

_{[Jack doesn't entirely believe the other's as fine as he's making himself out to be, but it's difficult to put his finger on what, exactly, might be wrong after literally everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. A near-death accident. Serious injuries. Murky memories. Not even really remembering who they are to each other.

Who can blame a guy for seeming a little off?]}

Just lean on me, okay?

_{[His mental recall may be dodgy at the moment, but confidence at being a steady shoulder to lean on swims up out of nowhere. If Nyx should stumble, despite his own injuries Jack won't let him fall; he's sure of that. Like he's made that promise to himself before.

At Nyx's afterthought, an amused huff of breath escapes the shorter of the two.]}

I get the feeling I don't like the cold, either. We have that in common. Must be a family thing?

Must be.

[He shares a similar huff of laughter as they make their way up the street. He can sort of recall a similar set of complains. Times when one of them or another was sick and stuck bundled on the couch with hot cocoa and morning cartoons.]

Aren't I the one who should be taking care of you?

_{[Moving slowly back up the front walk and through the hospital's sliding doors works just as well for Jack. His walk had left him tired, and even now he can feel a light sheen of sweat building under his arms and at the small of his back. A thought rises up unbidden: pathetic, you're out of shape.

They're both still standing--that's enough of a win for the time being, isn't it? He'd said as much already, but they're lucky to be alive after the serious accident that had put the both of them in this state. He just wishes he could remember it. He tips his head back to view Nyx's face from his position.]}

I think right now the nurses would say they're the ones who should be looking after us. Let's sit you back down in your room, big guy, and then... I guess we can get to know each other again? And ourselves. We've got a lot of stuff to figure out...

_{[Kind of makes an egg in a box seem like small fry, considering.]}

[Nyx laughs. It hurts but something lightens in his heart, like it's been awhile since he's done it.

His kid's a pretty smart guy.]

I think that's the best idea we've had all day.

_{[Laughter really is the best medicine. Even like this, missing the fundamental drive that fuelled him through a war so vicious it had permanently reshaped Orience's continents, Jack responds to the laughter by smiling, pleased to hear it.

This feeling... It's odd to feel like you can trust someone you can't remember clearly, but it's there, a warm twinge in his chest like his subconscious knows what to do without it needing to be told. After the confusing start to the morning, he wants to curl his hands around that tiny ember and breathe life into it.]}

Sneaking out turned out not to be half bad idea. We found our stuff, and each other.

_{[... Or maybe more like Nyx's haircut found him.]}

I bet you anything this is the kind of question only a couple of amnesiacs would have to ask each other, but, uh... so do you remember your name?

_{[What is he supposed to call this guy? Maybe one or both of them have IDs, or some other form of identification that'll trigger something stronger than the vague impressions the hug had. Something to look forward to when they sit down and start looking through all this stuff.

Glancing each way down the hallway, he shoots a questioning look Nyx's way.]}

Let's go to your room. Which way is it?

[Nyx's haircut is particularly powerful, it's true. Able to forge connections across universes.

Nyx purses his lips, glancing down either hallway, debating the answer to both of those questions and finally all he can do is shake his head, another exasperated laugh slipping through.]

I'm going to go by your tone that you don't remember yours either. I was hoping I'd have...a nametag. Or something. [He gestures with the bag.] With what I'm batting right now I'm surprised we even made it back to the hospital.

[Luckily, a nurse spots them pretty quickly, recognizing them as a couple of escapees. Nyx tells her they're brothers so they don't get separated as she bustles them down one of the hallways back to the room. Scolding them for getting out of bed.]

Got you beat there! The nurses told me when I first woke up. And I have one of those...

_{[What he means by "one of those" turns out to be his own name tag of sorts, which he pulls out of the box by the chain. At the end of it is an odd-looking chain embossed with the image of a phoenix and symbols in one of Orience's languages. Jack hasn't realized he's the only one who can read them--to him, his name is as clear as the "stop" in a stop sign.

It dawns on him he's practically showing off he has a piece of personal information that someone else doesn't. It's scary enough to have next to nothing, let alone your name. Smiling apologetically, he drops the Knowing Tag back into the box.]}

Sorry, I shouldn't be bragging about that. If I have one, maybe you do, too.

_{[Jack counts his blessings the nurse that bustles them out of the entryway and down a hall isn't one he's had before and that she doesn't know his name. She's plenty generous with her matronly disappointment without adding in I'm very disappointed in you, Jack.

A few apologies and proof no one is in danger of immediately dying later, she's finally gone and he can let out a breath.]}

Phew, thought she'd never leave.

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( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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