pineslog | ( 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

_{[The farm is a kaleidoscope of new sights and smells, full of open spaces, people at work, the clucking and barking of farm animals, the growl of farm machinery. He steps around neatly arrayed rows of winter crops of names he doesn't all know the name of while cows watch him with their big eyes. It's a productive trip--the people there are nice enough, and though no one seems to quite know what his egg is, they have the equipment, space, and willingness to house it, despite being three times the size of any normal chicken egg.

It's the perfect middle ground--it could be safe enough there without him having to get rid of it.

But the strangest thing happens at the penultimate moment. Jack finds he doesn't want to leave the damn thing. It's been with him this long that something in him hesitates to let it go. Stupid. He can barely take care of himself, what's he doing to do with the thing?

Logic walks away with a black eye from this fight. Jack ends up taking the farmers' advice and the egg back home with him, feeling a little foolish for it, but undeniably relieved, too.

But that leads to another problem: just where is home?

Living at the hospital forever isn't going to cut it even though (sadly) it's become the most familiar place to him. When the time comes to finally check himself out permanently, he takes the address he's given with a fair amount of dubiousness, wondering what he's walking into. Is this where he lives? What does he do there? Who does he live with? (Not the people he should be with, his gut supplies. Not family.)

Jack is on the street, puzzling out house numbers, when he hears someone yelling. Yelling at... him? Swinging his gaze around, he blinks up at the horned, grinning source. Yep, yelling at him. As far as he's concerned in that moment, she's the number one weirdest thing he's seen yet.]}

Who, me?

_{[But why are there horns, though.]}

Naw, the other guy carryin' a huge bag.

[ wings, a dull white with pink diamonds stretched between black fingers, spread out behind her, and eliza takes one easy leap off of the balcony. those massive wings beat twice, sending snow and debris in a whirl around her feet. down on the ground, she looks no larger than any other fourteen year old girl, but the flair of her skirt betrays another oddity: a thick, muscular tail. black, like a snake, but tipped with a delicate baby blue bow. ]

That's a bag from the grocery store, so it's gotta be food.

_{[Like every gullible person everywhere, Jack looks. Nope, no other guys with huge bags here. Must just be him.]}

Um... _{[He looks back just in time for the girl in the lolita dress to leap off her third story perch and float down with the help of wings. Wings. The note in his hand--the one Jack fails to notice bears the same address as the house Eliza jumps down from--goes forgotten.]} Now I've seen it all.

_{[Wait, no--he takes that back. Her tail swings out behind her and his eyes catch on the girlish bow tied to it, widening slightly in a look torn between being impressed and wondering if hallucinations are a part of his recovery process.

Now he's seen it all.]}

This is just my stuff! Nothing exciting, really. Clothes. Some socks. Odds and ends. _{[Ignore that suspiciously egg-shaped object sitting on top of the pile.]} You know. Stuff?

Edited 2017-03-17 08:01 (UTC)

Oh, good!

[ that grin is just as wide as before, and like the cheshire cat does eliza slink up to jack, situating herself behind him so that she can rest her hands on his shoulders and peeeeeeer at that bag. ]

I like stuff, too. [ now don't mind her. she's just gonna reach forward, seemingly as though to stuff her hand into the bag. ]

_{[Those are some big claws you have there, teen-grandma.

His muscle memory is quicker to remember caution than his conscious mind, and he gets an uncomfortable feeling at someone moving behind him. Like he shouldn't let a stranger in his blind spot. Like it's not a great move in a fight. Perfect place to take a shot.

... It's starting to make sense, why he remembers so much war and death in contrast to this place with its almost unnaturally peaceful streets.

He doesn't elbow the lizard girl off in a paranoid panic and start raving about super soldier assassins or Rursus to give the hospital a reason to drug him to the gills, thankfully, but he does try to turn, taking the bag with him. Hopefully eggs don't get motion sick from a lot of sudden movements.]}

Hi. _{[You're awfully close to him right now.]} Those are some pretty sweet wings. I'd be careful unless you like dirty underwear! I'm fresh from the hospital, they don't have the best laundry services.

[ WELL, that's certainly a way to get eliza to take a step back from this guy, nose wrinkled as her boots clip across the ground. ]

Ew! [ her eyes drift down to the bag and then back up to him, her arms crossing. ] So they stuffed your clothing in the bag huh? I see, I see.

[ she's just assuming that's his clothes. it might be something else entirely. ]

How sad, no place to change and they force you to walk through the streets with almost nothing on.

_{[Success! He's managed to ward off... well, whatever this girl is up to, whether a daytime mugging or simply having no sense of personal boundaries.]}

Yeah! Just personal belongings from the Sheriff's Office. Totally boring. Nothing to see, really.

_{[You're safe for now, egg. Not that Jack much understands why his instincts conflict where it's concerned. Half of him wants to ditch what isn't immediately necessary, set himself up somewhere secure, and listen to that niggling voice in the back of his head telling him he can't get comfortable in this town. The other half had felt a sizzle of protectiveness at the thought of someone else mishandling the egg.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, home to head injuries and confusing internal processes.]}

Ah... yeah, it kind of sucks, but they were pretty good to me since I had to stay a while. Sweatpants are better than no pants. _{[As if he's the most interesting thing here. Brow furrowing, he points at her horns.]} Are those real?

_{[All in all, they're the least odd thing between the wings and the tail, but they're what he focuses on. Forgive him, he's still processing.]}

Oh, I dunno~, [ eliza hums as she takes another step back. ] Personal items can be very interesting.

[ after all, if they're that personal, surely they'd spill secrets about the one holding them. also? rude. eliza never wears pants, and she's cute as a button! in fact, she's about to dispute this when— ]

..Ah? [ she follows jack's pointing, drawing her eyes up as though she can see her own horns. ...she can't, of course, but she'll draw her hands over them to feel out each gradual twist. ] Maybe. Do you wanna try and pull 'em off?

_{[Why does he want to start sweating when she says that first bit? Must just be standing so close to such a glamorous young idol. Yeah, must be. He's overcome by her... Er. By her everything.

To Eliza's considerable credit, she manages to distract him both from the heavy thoughts he'd been batting around in his head, and the reason he's wandering the streets with a bag and a slip of paper in his hand. His eyebrows lower curiously.]}

Touch your horns? _{[Words he didn't think he'd be saying.]} I thought it was generally frowned upon for boys to go up to girls they've just met and start touching things.

_{[Note it's not a no.]}

( march intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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