( 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]

[ Good. The others were okay. She knows she must have done something that risked that. She knows she was screaming somehow, feeling it in her head, in her throat, the slight hint of a scratchiness still lingering there.

Her cold fingers tighten on her knees with Allison's question. Because she wishes she knew. She can recall the hospital but what else was there. How had she gotten there at all? Wishing she had the answer for both herself and the girl sitting next to her, she shakes her head, fighting back another panic. ]

I was losing control. All the voices in my head, I couldn't keep them away and — [ And what else? What else was there beyond that?

Her teeth chew on her lip, eyes on the dashboard. There's only one memory that comes, even though she isn't sure it's even connected at all. ] You were dead. [ I thought, she almost says. Except she's so sure that she was. But then why would Allison be here at all? This had to be inside her head. But she'd confirmed she wasn't dreaming. So what was it? ]

[overdraws]

[ Allison's mouth forms into a thin line, coming to a slow crawl before turning into the driveway of the house she shares with Malia and Stiles. She doesn't think either of them are at home; Malia has school and Stiles has his own job. It's probably for the best, she can warn them about Lydia when they get home.

She sits for a moment at Lydia's accusation. There's no good answer for that — it's not wrong, but it's not entirely right, either. She's still, technically, dead. But she's still living, breathing, has been since she woke up in that tank covered in space goo. She swallows, looks at Lydia. ] I was. I'm not anymore. I promise, I'll explain, but I need to get you inside and find you some clothes.

[ She doesn't wait for an answer, instead climbing out of the car and heading back around to Lydia's side, opening up the door and collecting her. ]

[banshe]

[ I'm not anymore. How is that possible? Allison was gone, how could she be here again? And for how long? Had she already been here before her own memories had begun to play tricks on her as a result of the banshee side effects? Was she reliving finding Allison all over again and she just couldn't remember? Or had her mind just simply been gone for that long?

It was too much. All of this was too much.

When the passenger door swings open, she can feel the terrifying chill of the air come creeping on her again. ]

Okay. [ She manages to choke out as her mouth quivers again, a tinge of purple on the swell of her lips. Following Allison's gestured cues, she weakly climbs out of the car, pressed slightly against the other girl's body. ] Okay. [ She says it again, not responding to anything in particular this time. ]