I. WANDERING [OPEN] [ Chase doesn't linger around the hospital any longer than he has to. He feels fine-- well. He feels fine if you disregard the splitting headache and the fact that he can't really remember much of anything, thanks to some 'accident' he was in. So maybe 'fine' isn't the right word. 'Headstrong' is. It's what pushes him to get out of bed once he's sick of waiting for the doctor. One set of stolen scrubs later, and Chase manages to make his way out of the hospital. It isn't too long before he makes his way in and out of the police station, his belongings retrieved.
Really, it just amounts to the clothes on his back (the all-black ensemble suits him way more than the scrubs, that's for sure) and his wallet, which-- thankfully-- contains no shortage of cash. And a student ID for "Spenser Academy," which doesn't ring any bells whatsoever.
Honestly, not a whole lot rings any bells. Nothing in this town seems familiar, but he can't quite picture anything at all when he tries to think about 'home.' There are only a few things he knows for certain: his mother's dead (that's all he knows about her, though: dead. No face, no name, no memories of her as a person), and his father walked out on them when he was born. Beyond that, he's got some scattered memories of what must be recent events: kissing a hot guy, swimming, going to a movie with a friend...
Yeah. That's it. Now here he is in a town that doesn't feel like home, with keys to a house that he can't remember ever having lived in. If his mom's dead and his dad's out of the picture, who does he even live with? Foster parents? Grandparents? Some other relatives?
Whoever it is that's waiting for him, they can keep on waiting. Chase is just going to prolong his wandering and exploration as much as possible. Hell, he's got a bunch of cash on him, anyway. Perfect for treating himself while he recovers from this horrible amnesia ordeal.
Feel free to intercept him as he wanders Main Street and makes stops at any shop that catches his interest. ]
II. HOME FOR A REST [CLOSED] [ The sun's long set and most of the shops have closed by the time Chase finally decides to make his way to the address on his keys. Even now, after spending however many hours trying to get his bearings here, Wayward Pines doesn't strike any chord of 'home' with him. The street is... familiar, but not home. Same with the house itself, when he finally reaches it. If anything, it just seems so quaint and stifling, the kind of place he'd want to run away from as soon as he can, because he's made for more than life in a small, crappy town like this.
He regards the house for a moment, nose wrinkled in vague distaste. The lights are on, so somebody's home... Time to see what the hell his home life even is. He opens the front door like he owns the place-- which, okay, he may not own it, but it's supposed to be his, anyway, right?-- and looks around the foyer. ]
Hello?
[ He doesn't wait for more than a handful of seconds before he starts to explore the closest bedroom, which... obviously isn't the master bedroom. The walls are plastered with posters for various goth and alternative bands, pictures of celebs pulled from magazines. There's no shortage of books-- battered paperbacks, mostly horror-- and magazines, some comics... A nice CD collection.
Chase Collins | The Covenant
[ Chase doesn't linger around the hospital any longer than he has to. He feels fine-- well. He feels fine if you disregard the splitting headache and the fact that he can't really remember much of anything, thanks to some 'accident' he was in. So maybe 'fine' isn't the right word. 'Headstrong' is. It's what pushes him to get out of bed once he's sick of waiting for the doctor. One set of stolen scrubs later, and Chase manages to make his way out of the hospital. It isn't too long before he makes his way in and out of the police station, his belongings retrieved.
Really, it just amounts to the clothes on his back (the all-black ensemble suits him way more than the scrubs, that's for sure) and his wallet, which-- thankfully-- contains no shortage of cash. And a student ID for "Spenser Academy," which doesn't ring any bells whatsoever.
Honestly, not a whole lot rings any bells. Nothing in this town seems familiar, but he can't quite picture anything at all when he tries to think about 'home.' There are only a few things he knows for certain: his mother's dead (that's all he knows about her, though: dead. No face, no name, no memories of her as a person), and his father walked out on them when he was born. Beyond that, he's got some scattered memories of what must be recent events: kissing a hot guy, swimming, going to a movie with a friend...
Yeah. That's it. Now here he is in a town that doesn't feel like home, with keys to a house that he can't remember ever having lived in. If his mom's dead and his dad's out of the picture, who does he even live with? Foster parents? Grandparents? Some other relatives?
Whoever it is that's waiting for him, they can keep on waiting. Chase is just going to prolong his wandering and exploration as much as possible. Hell, he's got a bunch of cash on him, anyway. Perfect for treating himself while he recovers from this horrible amnesia ordeal.
Feel free to intercept him as he wanders Main Street and makes stops at any shop that catches his interest. ]
II. HOME FOR A REST [CLOSED]
[ The sun's long set and most of the shops have closed by the time Chase finally decides to make his way to the address on his keys. Even now, after spending however many hours trying to get his bearings here, Wayward Pines doesn't strike any chord of 'home' with him. The street is... familiar, but not home. Same with the house itself, when he finally reaches it. If anything, it just seems so quaint and stifling, the kind of place he'd want to run away from as soon as he can, because he's made for more than life in a small, crappy town like this.
He regards the house for a moment, nose wrinkled in vague distaste. The lights are on, so somebody's home... Time to see what the hell his home life even is. He opens the front door like he owns the place-- which, okay, he may not own it, but it's supposed to be his, anyway, right?-- and looks around the foyer. ]
Hello?
[ He doesn't wait for more than a handful of seconds before he starts to explore the closest bedroom, which... obviously isn't the master bedroom. The walls are plastered with posters for various goth and alternative bands, pictures of celebs pulled from magazines. There's no shortage of books-- battered paperbacks, mostly horror-- and magazines, some comics... A nice CD collection.
It must be his, right? ]