( 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

[singly]

[ Malia does want help from anyone who can offer it, and kids speak pretty bluntly so seeing what they know is never out of the question. Then again, her eyes go wide when she sees horns, mouth gaping, no words coming out even as she's implored to never use a metal box to escape. What?? She can't remember much, but people don't have horns!!

She naturally catches sight of the gesture, breathing out a sound of bewilderment when she sees the state the girl's arm, hand, is in. Her head just barely shakes -- she's just barely out of the initial shock of wondering what the hell is going on, and now she's questioning if this is a dream or what.

She does not resist that tug, moving along with the girl while in a state of quiet shock. Until they get to the window, then she pulls her hand away, lips rounding as she shakes her head, blinking, expression twisting into an attempt of arguing for several seconds until she finally finds the words. ]

What? A window? [ She gives this window an unsavory look. ] What do you have against elevators? You're -- you're gonna get even more hurt if you try gettin' out that way. [ She...steps over to it though, running fingers down along the wall right beside its frame. Is she considering this? What floor even are they on? She's just now learning, and...she looks back in disbelief at the girl who...she's placing as not just any ordinary girl. ] So would I, probably.

[dehanded]

[ we say kid, but really, if she didn't have this shapeless hospital gown on, it'd be a little more obvious that she's got an adult's shape... berserker just... happens to be very small. ]

Locked in a box with only one way out, in a house of prison wardens? It is a fool's choice.

[ her bare feet are the same color red as her remaining hand, ending in the same looping pattern; and she's clawed on all three, just the same way her teeth are sharp when she speaks. dropping malia's hand, she taps at the glass with one of those claws, and leans in to examine the lock keeping the window fastened shut.

berserker was lucky, waking up with the clarity of knowing she is not like these humans, and she finds obstacles slightly less daunting. instinct tells her the window is a safe choice, like instinct tells her she's strong enough to force this lock if they need to. her nails are sharp, filed to points, and tougher than steel, and she taps the mechanism one more time, waiting. ]

I do not fear climbing or falling. It will be worth it to find what has been taken from me.

[ down the hall, there's a loud flurry of activity as that elevator they're avoiding opens — simultaneously, berserker jams her claw under the seam where it is screwed onto the window frame, and pries it loose with a grating crunch. ]

See? They will not trap us. If you are scared, I will carry you, human, and jump.

[singly]

[ Forgive Malia while she stands quite idle beside the window, brows eyes flicking to and fro with the girl's movements. She's...no, not just a girl. Certainly, she isn't speaking or acting like a child (unless this is how the kiddos in Idaho act??), and those words -- prison wardens, a fool's choice -- they have Malia's bewildered state holding. Maintaining and going through heavier waves as she processes the colors, shapes, unique non-human characteristics of this girl's hands, feet. They're both no better off as far as the state of being properly clothed goes, Malia knows by the chill of her own feet. When she eyes those nails, tapping over the window lock, they make her glance down at her own hand, fingers stretching, memories trying to tickle at her. She has fingernails. Human fingernails. But does she have more than that, too? She can't remember.

Her brows knit together, wondering what's been taken from the girl, and her attention shifts when she spots, hears, then sees the mayhem surrounding the elevator. It's not overly alarming to her, but what's going on in front of her pulls her attention back, looking through briefly wider eyes at the window.

...Human. Her jaw hangs for a second. Then is not the time to reveal how not entirely human she is, though. ] I wanna leave. And I'm not scared, I just wasn't thinkin' about jumping out a window. Or...anything else that made any sense. [ She doesn't know if she should be doing this, considering a leap out of a window, a yearning to survive flooding over her. Overall, she knows she's not thinking entirely clearly but she still has to ask -- ] You stronger than you look? 'Cause, I'm...bigger than you. [ Five foot eight, a healthy weight with an athletic build thanks to being a werecoyote. ]

this is a month late and jesus fuck i am so sorry

[dehanded]

Were your body made of solid stone, or gold, it would still be simple to steal you away.

[ she giggles an odd, girlish sound that doesn't match her fierce appearance, and pulls the window right open without even waiting. immediately, the two of them are blasted with cold, february in goddamn idaho, shitass weather. ]

Do you intend to stay? You must decide now.

[ because people are noticing the open window, and the cold, and a a shocked nurse coming their way, fast. berserker grips the frame with her uninjured hand to open it further, and gestures to malia with the damaged arm. if she takes the hint and steps closer, the oni will, without pause, yank the entire pane of glass free from the wall with ease, and toss it back towards the nurse. gently, so it only shatters a little bit, instead of into a starburst of sharp pieces. ]