( february 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

Outside, the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is awfully crisp to be wandering around in your hospital gown, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little town of Wayward Pines, though that might be in part because of the glare off the scattered patches of snow along the sides of the street.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured. 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 first newbie mingle log! We apologize for the minor 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

[paragon]

I'm sorry, [ he says, because what else is there to say to that? Still, it's sincere. ] I hope you find them.

waking up

[oncekind]

['Mother'. That gets her attention. Though this man is clearly an adult and not the husband or child she's looking for, she can't help but empathize. When he storms out, she stands aside but tries to reach out to stop him by the wrist]

Hey.

[She has a lot of scars lining her face and arms, accompanied by bandages. Some hidden by her hospital gown and some not.]

wild card (b)

[oncekind]

[Jiaying has been trying to stay under the radar. The presence of the signs and the way the locals stare has more than convinced her that improper behavior will gain negative attention.

And while she doesn't want to get involve with what appears to the be a crazy man potentially breaking a public vending machine, she finds herself shooting the peanut gallery a glance and stes forward to touch Howard by the wrist.]

Stop.

[oncekind]

Well, don't catch a cold out here. [she says warmly] You're a professional photographer? [she glances at the camera in his hand]

[oncekind]

[she manages to look mildly horrified] You don't mean-- I assumed they had everyone's belongings. It's strange but maybe it's customary in this town. [she frowns slightly]

The people I spoke to didn't mention their family but I wouldn't be surprised if they're missing someone.

[oncekind]

[Jiaying nods. There's a lot that's worrying in this town the longer they think about it. But, for now, they each have their own priorities, don't they? She nods when asked if she's sure then smiles warmly at the encouragement and reassurance.]

Thank you. I'm sure we'll see each other again. Be careful out there. [Though she looks a little sheepish after saying so. what's there to worry about, right?]

[oncekind]

[It's true. It's not that cold but still. She decides not to make a big deal out of it for now. Not until they're indoors. She looks troubled at the question]

Only very little things. My husband, my baby daughter, a young man under my care. [she opts not to mention the other more disturbing items that accompanied her waking] None of whom I've managed to find since I woke up. What about you?

[oncekind]

[Jiaying does happen to find it odd and hesitates a brief moment before reaching out to shake it lightly, hoping it doesn't crush her hand.]

It's nice to meet you, Emily. I-- I don't have a name to offer right now. I'm hoping the sheriff can tell me.

[oncekind]

Jiaying lets out a breath and nods. "You're right. I just hope she's not in the same accident I was. She's still so little," she trails off for a moment, holding on to that one fleeting memory of her newborn. She shakes her head. "But thank you for your help. They could be waiting for me at home and I'm making a fuss over nothing." Though what she says sounds more like she's trying to reassure herself.

[oncekind]

Well, that sense of needing to maintain a semblance of compliance won't truly hit her until she's out in the street, so for now, she's more concerned with being a good mother. A good mother with a missing child.

"She's a new born with light puffs of adorable little brown hair," she can't help but smile fondly at the memory. She lets out a breath. "I'm sure my husband's with her. They could be home right at this moment."

[oncekind]

[Her expression softens and she nods] I do too. [she lets out a soft breath, shaking her head slightly as she brushes her hair behind her ears.] I could be worrying over nothing. For all I know they're waiting for me at home. [a pause] Wherever home is. [why doesn't she remember that? How hard did she hit her head?]

[malignans]

I see.

[For a moment, that is about as much as Dio can muster to say in response. He's aware that it falls short of anything meaningful, but he doesn't particularly know what to do with the emotionality in the other man's voice. Perhaps if it were someone else, if he didn't have the inclination that something so genuine were directed at him, he might have been able to provide an appropriate platitude. But he can't see any difference between that and saying I see, so that's where he lands.]

[He tries to push past it, but he can't decide on the direction between either staying with the subject or bypassing it with something else.]

. . . You remember some things then.

[In the end, it's a subtle invitation for more. Dio knows there's little to no guarantee that it will satisfy his curiosity. In fact, he's almost confident that whatever answer the man provides, it will leave more question in its wake. But not satisfying his curiosity at all seems the worse of the two choices.]

[dehanded]

[ when lancer finds the house that is supposedly hers... its kind of a mess.

firstly, there's a hole in the drywall by the front door that looks suspiciously hand sized. muddy footprints lead from the door, up onto the couch (down the cushions and over the back, the poor thing doesn't even have a slipcover or whatever), to the glass door that leads to the back porch (there's a plastic grocery bag full of fabric by the fireplace), into the kitchen, in front of the open fridge door that's letting cold air out, and then back into the living room, to the big reclining chair by the window. it's full of what appears to be every damn blanket in the house, bundled up into a pile... with two little red spikes poking out.







someone is sleeping in your chair.

(she got cold, walking around without shoes, or a haramaki, or even a properly tied kimono, and since there's no food in the house and she's tired already, from jumping out a window and running all the way into town... may as well sleep to warm back up again.) ]

[malignans]

Her anxiety is a palpable weight in the room, and Dio isn't convinced she's managed to soothe it to the point thoughts of the worst case won't continue to plague her with light reassurance like that. It's because of how thick her anxiety is in the air that Dio doesn't give voice to the question of why would they be at home? If they weren't involved in the accident — as indicated by the hospital staff's responses to her questions — why would they not be waiting diligently here at the hospital for her to awaken rather than at home? There's no easily known answer to that question, and it's the unknown that's always the most terrifying. So, he leaves it be and lets her have her flimsy explanation. Even if it does little to abate her anxiety, that's enough.

He does tip his head to one side slightly.

"There seems to be a lot of accidents today."

weeps i'm so, so sorry for how late this is!

[dragoness]

[ she must befriend this creature... such a thing with claws like that-? her mind is already spinning with possibilities, even if she's not sure why. ]

Ah, that makes sense! A creature like you should have a hundred of them, I'd think. [ statues, she means, in his image. ] Then I suppose if they're so incompetent, it can't be helped for now. I'll just have to think of a way to properly punish them later!

[ heh ]

Care to help?

[dragoness]

[ what the fresh hell is this?? this place is a mess. if this house supposedly belongs to the one and only ... ... er, well, her name's not important right now! the important thing is that she's important, her standing is important, and she should have this house 100% to herself all the time (except not really, because that thought makes her chest ache for some reason), so why the hell is there so much of a mess everywhere?

did that place suffer from more incompetence than she gave them credit for?? giving her a house so ruined — she'd have their heads for sure. her claws twitch at the end of her fingers, and she can almost feel her lance materialize in her grip — but she holds off. with no master, she'll have to spend her mana wisely.

maybe she can talk whatever creature this is in her chair into giving up its space, and moving on. maybe she can annoy it to death. or maybe, she'll just sing. ]

... Hey, you. [ lancer picks up a booted foot and presses the ball against the edge of the chair. ] This isn't some fairy tale where you try two things and land on the third! Wake up! This house isn't yours!

[dehanded]

[ the pile of blankets shifts with a growl. and shifts a little more. and a little more, before a muffled voice issues forth. ]

Human! You intrude where you do not belong. [ finally, she frees her head from the blanketbundle. one of the stolen duvets appears to have caught itself on one of her spikes of horn, as she considers eliza with narrowed golden eyes, focusing on the horns, before she makes a toothy grin. ]

You're not a human.

[dragoness]

So you're not as stupid as you look!

[ that's right, she just said you looked stupid. what're you gonna do about it. ]

You're the one that's intruding, so I suggest you take your bony self and leave before I get angry.

[immoderation]

You're probably right. Still, I'm glad I brought it up if you didn't already know. Is there anything else you can think of that we should compare notes on?

[unforgivably]

Hm. Blood bags are best if I don't take from the source, but if we do, we compel them to forget. And, we need our rings [ he lifts his empty left hand up. ] to walk in sunlight. With god. [ That gesture follows, what, they're... in public. ] And that's about it. Other than a formal invitation, what else do you know?

[dehanded]

[ berserker stands on the chair, shedding more and more of her blankets, her yellow kimono falling off her shoulders. she points one clawed hand down at lancer, loath to relinquish her greater height, despite the insults. ]

This building was given to me by those human fools, kufufufu... What claim do you have to this which is mine?

[greyaria]

Haven't decided yet!

[Also none of your business, Mr. Nosy.

That is a very odd scar, and Emily's eyes linger for a moment as she tries to categorize what injury would leave it and not kill the patient. Could be a surgical procedure, she supposes. Maybe she'll ask after he's done interrogating her, which is likely to prove pretty frustrating for him, Emily being who she is.]

[dragoness]

Yours!?

[ lancer almost laughs, though the longer she stays in this person's presence, the more familiarity she feels. yes, that's right, this monster has the same magical pressure as another heroic spirit! there's no doubt about it.

still, she'll do anything she can to avoid a fight without a master, so lancer instead lifts up a hand, letting the shining key dangling between her fingers speak for her. ]

This place is mine, actually, and you've messed it all up! You'll clean it before you go, or I'll make you pay for it in blood. ♥

[immoderation]

It's not a good idea for me to... take from the source. I'm... A Ripper. [ While the exact terminology will probably be lost on Damon, the word is quite an evocative one -- one he can probably extrapolate the meaning of well enough. ]

What do you mean, "compel"?

[greyaria]

I...really can't remember.

[She sounds dubious. Memory loss like this can occur without head trauma, but it's rare, far too rare to explain the amnesiac convention that seems to be happening in little Wayward Pines.

Unless, of course, they're being lied to...because certain drugs could do this, and they're not the friendly kind of drugs that kill bacteria or pain.]

There was a lot of screaming.

["She sounds haunted" is what should go here, but doesn't, because Emily seems to think a lot of screaming is perfectly normal, and is as chipper as you please about it.]