( 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 looks over him as he answers, inhaling and breath holding when what she hears contains almost exactly what matches her experience. ]

No, nothing looks familiar to me. I really -- [ she glances away, eyes settling down on the ground closetest to them as she sighs ] don't like that, either, but I guess we can't do anything else other than see if we...I dunno, start remembering? [ She gives a shrug, helpless and halfhearted. If things are temporary, at all. ]

So what's your name?

[overfivethousand]

I guess so. I mean, it'd be nice to remember. Might make me feel a little less lost. But the people here are pretty nice, at least. That's gotta count for something.

[He tries for a smile, albeit one a little lopsided and not very bright.]

I'm Ten Thousand. 10K. I know, it's weird. What's yours?

[singly]

[ She has the suspicion neither of them are exceedingly hopeful about any clarity ringing out in the foreseeable future. For how cloudy her memories still seem to be and no new ones sliding on in, Malia's a little grim about them surfacing.

She inhales slowly, lips pressing together at the notion of the friendliness of they who seem like locals. Her shoulders rise a tiny bit, but she listens to what else he says, taking in that name.

She gives him a perplexed look. ] Malia. And you're right, that is a weird name. I didn't know people were named after numbers. And, honestly? It's nice to talk to people who aren't trying to act weirdly friendly. [ Which is a compliment rather than an insult, though who knows if he'll read her words as that. There's no insult in her tone. She glances around again. ] Did you check out any of the houses yet?

[overfivethousand]

Maybe it makes it weirder, but I think it's a nickname. One I gave myself. Don't ask me ten thousand what, though, because that part's still a little fuzzy.

[He gives a little shrug, a little open-palmed gesture to signify 'you know how it is.' Because she does, they all do. It's all a little fuzzy.]

Not yet. I was just trying to figure out which way to go. Honestly I'm not big on cities. Towns. Would it, uh, be 'weirdly friendly' if I offered to go look with you?

[singly]

[ There's not a lot to go over in terms of any suggestions Malia may have, plus anything she could say? Wouldn't miraculously bring the truth behind his nickname out -- probably. She eyes him carefully, honing in on that gesture, pondering before adding ] Money, maybe. [ Although, he doesn't give off vibes of materialism, but what does she know? Neither of them do, although she has very few memories of people to base that opinion off.

She wants to see what's up with the houses. The house she has a key for, that she's thinking she won't recognize even after seeing it. Her brows rise when he asks that, head giving a firm shake. ] No, I thought you might, since I brought it up again. [ A little smile. ] And, you're not acting like any of those kinds of people, for the record. [ She nods down the street. ] Ready? To go look?

[overfivethousand]

[He huffs a quiet laugh at that, hunching his shoulders slightly in a gesture that's not quite a shrug.] I dunno about that. Doesn't seem like it's all that important, to me. I get by fine.

[And that's true, isn't it? The thought surprises him for a moment, the idea of surviving off the land. He knows how to do that. He's sure. Not the specifics, but he's sure it'll come back. Maybe when he sees the house he supposedly lives in. Maybe he'll remember something, or maybe she will. No point in sticking around here.]

Yeah, sure. I think we're supposed to go...that way.

[He's usually pretty good with directions and maps, there's a decent chance he's actually right, this time.]