pineslog | ( february 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

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

The consideration of light coming into the room catches Dio off-guard for a moment, but he nods before averting his gaze. "Go on."

"If you're sure." He gets it. He didn't want to be there, either, no matter how little he remembered, how bad he'd felt. There's still some soreness in his stomach, a shiny scar the only sign of the shot he remembered taking. One hand moves toward the spot as he remembers, subconsciously.

"I can go with you, if you want. In case you need a hand."

The offer is impulsive, but well meant. After all, he should probably get to the house they tell him is his eventually. Why not now?

With a nod, she opens the door, steps outside and shuts it behind her. She has things to attend to still but maybe they can meet again soon.

She nods, grateful. "If it's not too much trouble. Thank you. I wish I remember enough to offer you something in return." She reaches into her pocket and retrieves the key to her home. A house number printed across it.

Aranea - ! ( the little jab isn't the most brutal attack he's experienced, but it's enough to catch prompto off-guard with a small yelp nonetheless; still, he doesn't squirm away out of reach this time, opting to lean back in and catch her hands in his own to thread their fingers together. )

I'm really glad you're here.

[ Sure, the way he tangles her hands up in his own is probably as much about avoiding further poking as it is about what he says, but that doesn't stop her from looking down at their hands and back up to his face, a softness in her expression that she doesn't wear around anyone but him. She can't imagine a problem so dire it wouldn't feel fixable with Prompto around, and she leans in to press a quick little kiss to his lips. ]

Me too, shortcake.

"No trouble at all." The opposite, in fact. He's going the same way, and there's something almost familiar about this woman. He barely remembers anything about Cassandra aside from brief flashes, but there's something here that rings those bells, too. "I don't need repaying, really. Just take care of yourself. Here, let me give you a hand up." He glances at the key, at the number there, then stands, offering her a hand. There's a brief twinge of warning in his head, something about letting injured people get too close, but he disregards it entirely.

Jiaying nods, accepting that for now as she takes his hand. She takes a deep breath and slowly stands. Her back appears to be behaving for now but she takes a moment to assess it anyway. Then, with a smile, she looks to him and says,

"Shall we?"

"Sure. Let's go."

His tentative smile is a little less tentative this time around, as he carefully and easily helps her to her feet, offering a shoulder to lean on if she needs it as they make their slow way down the sidewalk towards the residential district.

The walk is slow and mostly quiet as she focuses on managing the pain. But slow and steady does win the race and they make it to her house number eventually. She pauses at the driveway, a slight frown on her features.

"Funny. I thought I'd remember something once I got here."

((OOC: Do you mind if we wrap up this one soon? :3))

His look is entirely sympathetic. He isn't expecting to remember anything right now, not today; not with the way his mind feels like it's filled with haze. Forcing it doesn't seem to help, but focusing on others has done wonders to keep him from panicking. "It'll come back. It'll just take some time. Here, I'll help you inside, let you get some rest. Someone used to tell me that sleep was nature's best medicine." Of course, he can't remember who. Or when. Or why. Still, the words sound right.

((not at all, we can probably wrap it here! thanks for your patience :D))

She smiles and nods. "You're right." She steps forward to go ahead and unlock the door. Once she's safely inside, she'll thank him once more and send him on his way. He's bound to have his own discovery to do and far be it for her to keep him.

((Not a problem :3))

[You swore your loyalty to me.]

[He doesn't remember this. Not yet. But he also doesn't doubt it. It seems so real, so impossibly real--not just because he would trust this man if he said the sky was black, but because it feels right. Like something he can't quite remember, but will soon enough.]

[Without even realizing it, he exhales with relief. His eyes close for a moment, then open, and he's smiling.]

Yes. It must have been quite a long time ago. But I'm certain you're right.

[Relief is . . . It's a surprise. Dio's witnessed a variety of reactions from those who found themselves awaking in the hospital. Most of them have been with underlying discomfort, however, and never with relief. But this man, he's relieved to know that there's a connection. Even if it's distant and there's no telling how much time has eroded it. He's soothed by it, even when he should question it. He should perhaps question it even more than Dio is right now given that there's little indication that he remembers exactly what Dio does and the contrasting memories certainly don't fit neatly with such declarations.]

[And yet he's relieved. He's smiling. Dio doesn't return the smile, glancing away instead.]

You are a stranger to me otherwise. I believe the same is true for you.

Yes.

[He nods, assenting though he's reluctant.]

Aside from these few fragments, I don't know you. Even though I feel like I should. Even though it's important to me that I do.

I'm sorry. I wish I could offer more insight for you.

[Dio wants to ask why he's apologizing when it's not as though the circumstances are of his fault, nor has he committed some great offense against him. But it seems a foolish thing to ask, and it feels as though he ought to feel more entitled than to wonder that with anyone regardless of what they have said in the past. So, he doesn't. Instead:]

Your name. What is it?

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( february intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

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