pineslog | (april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD 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 looking a bit tired and worn at the edges, like a blurred photograph. They take your vitals and ask your name and anything else you might remember with an air of exhausted distraction about them, and maybe even eye your bed with a look of vacant yearning for a moment before managing to rouse themselves again. 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... though it might be awhile. 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.

There was an outbreak last week after all, some of the more chatty staff might be persuaded to share. Oh, nothing to worry about now, it's all been taken care of, but there's always so many details to take care of after a scare like that and, look, you should probably come straight back to the hospital if you start feeling sick, okay? Just in case. But honestly, you have nothing to worry about.

Mingle, visit your fellow patients, worry a bit anyway, even poke around for a few basic answers. Or maybe, maybe just stroll right on out the front door.

heading outside

One step outside and it's perfectly clear that your hospital gown simply isn't going to cut it for long. A crisp winter wind whips at you through the thin cloth and all around your is the slowly melting evidence of an earlier snow storm, clumps of dirty snow along the edges of buildings and sidewalks, sad misshapen snowmen sliding into slush across a few front lawns. You're probably standing in a small puddle right now, just by a simple law of averages. Geez that water's cold.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and lightly dusted in snow. 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, and asking the sheriff only gets you a harried look and a form to fill out if you have any concerns. 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."), and a general direction to start looking for the house that key belongs to, the sheriff pulled away to deal with some other pressing issue before he could give you more detailed instructions. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in. If you can even find it, that is.

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...

MOD NOTES

Welcome to the third newbie mingle log!

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.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, location, and Open or Closed, to help keep things a bit more organized.

If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OUTSIDE:

[ The raven is large. Not, perhaps, abnormally so, but from beak to tail it measures about two feet long, with a decent three inches of that the sharp, pointed beak that is currently pressed to the glass of French's grocery store. It's beady brown eyes are squinting, for lack of a better term, inside, and after a moment, the bird hops down from its perch on the sill, and starts pacing back and forth in front of the door. Careful listening will reveal that the bird seems to be muttering to itself.

It's hard to open doors when you don't have hands, but Rhiannon also doesn't want to be naked in the chilly spring weather. Her feathers are keeping her warm enough, but they're not stopping her (currently metaphorical) fingers from itching for a cigarette. She can worry about what they'd told her at the hospital later, about picking up her key from the Sheriff's office. Right now, she needs a way in and a pack of Camels. ]

Jefferson's Tea Shop

[ At least she's remembered she has a job! Not that she really fits into the place — Rhiannon's style is clearly more geared towards Java Joe's than some Alice in Wonderland themed tea shop, but the baristas at Java Joe's drive her crazy (she thinks), and Jeff is nice enough, which for Rhiannon translates from him letting her pick a the food in the trash without really batting an eye or anything. He's also pretty good about letting her run the cash register as a raven if she feels like it.

Standing's not really her thing, though, and she's usually sitting on the counter next to the register, leafing through a fashion magazine she snagged from the bookstore. She's a little drawn to the boho style, although she can't really recall why. Still, when someone shows up to the shop she's usually pretty good about getting to work. Usually. ]

( a quick stop home revealed a serious lack of food and while all she wanted to do was sit down and try to unwind she knew she couldn't leave the cabinets barren. the least she could do was get a healthy supply stocked so she wouldn't have to worry about it later. besides, if she didn't do it, then who would? )

( when she neared the grocer she had to stop at stare at a raven exhibiting some ( in her opinion ) strange behavior. quirking her head she swore she could hear it murmuring to itself, but, no, ravens don't do that and you're still not feeling one hundred percent better. still, even as she reassured herself that hearing things was a result of the accident she couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. ) I'm not so sure you're going to be allowed inside. ( and now she's talking to a bird. how hard had she hit her head again? )

[ Rhiannon stops, eyes narrowing just a little in a curious squint directed at the woman who dared to, like. Tell her that she couldn't go inside? Whatever, there's no signs, and anyway this is like. Anti bird or something. Birds get into Wal-Mart all the time. Why is this different?

The raven turns towards Pepper in that weird, kind of waddling walk that they do, spreads her wings, and screams at Pepper in a way that's meant to convey 'Open the door so I can get a pack of cigarettes and I can be on my fucking way' but probably just comes across as a very large blackbird, well. Screaming.

Rhiannon closes her wings and waddles back around to the door, stands, and frowns at it. ]

[ and she has clearly ruffled this bird’s feathers. ~~haha.~~ but it’s true! most places have rules barring animals from entering for a multitude of reasons… and the number only grows when there’s food involved. still, for some reason this grouchy little bird seems hell bent on going inside. ]

[ when rhiannon all but screeches at her she doesn’t even flinch. look, she’s been yelled at plenty of times, so it’s going to take a lot more than that to shake her. but in all seriousness, what could this bird possibly need from inside? ] … [ shaking her head she approaches the door, pushing it open. if she pretends like she didn’t see her enter, then oops. ] After you.

[ WELL. Someone in this town has manners, thank fuckin' god, and the bird marches straight into the store like it belongs there, pausing in the doorway to look around.

Ah. There. She spots a counter that seems to have what she wants, and she talks off from standing, wings flapping, a couple feathers flying, the poor check out clerk screeching in terror as four pounds of feathers comes flying right at her face. The clerk ducks and Rhiannon doesn't manage to bank properly, instead flying right into the display case of cigarettes behind the counter, sending it crashing to the floor. Whoops? ]

[ my goodness. pepper shakes her head as the bird saunters inside like it owns the place. she stifles a chuckle as she grabs a basket and turns down the nearest aisle to start shopping. she didn’t see anything. ]

[ but not even a moment later she hears the clerk screech, followed by a crash. well, who would have seen this coming! pepper pinches the bridge of her nose and blows out a sigh, because as much as she’d like to ignore the commotion coming from the front of the store she feels partially responsible. ]

[ returning to the checkout she peers over the counter and frowns, the bird having crash landed into the cigarette display. in a panic the clerk reaches for a broom. ] H- Hey now. [ using the basket to guard the bird from being struck she gives the poor girl a lopsided smile. ] It must have just snuck inside. [ nope. ] It’s scared. [ doubtful. ] Let me handle this. [ pepper, no, you’re not the bird whisperer. ]

[ The bird is decidedly not scared, and is, in fact, actually really annoyed. She squawks at the clerk, which doesn't dissuade her from reaching for that broom any, but Rhiannon ignores them both in favor of hopping towards the mess that she... is totally not responsible for in any way shape or form.

The clerk freezes as Rhiannon starts sorting through the pile of cigarettes on the floor, and stares in shock as she grabs a pack of Camels in her beak. Rhiannon flaps back up to the counter, and sets the cigarettes down next to the register.

And then turns to Pepper. Well??? She'll pay you back. Probably. ]

[ Please don't judge Jefferson's #aesthetic; he barely remembers picking the decor out. Anyway, as it's a slow day (which he blames the recent plague for), Jefferson doesn't seem to care that Rhiannon's sitting on the counter flipping through a magazine. If anything, he leans over to take a look at its pages. ]

I don't understand this. [ He leans in way too close and taps the offending picture for emphasis. ] If you're going to take off your sleeves and show your midriff, why bother with the turtleneck? A scarf would look much nicer.

[ Don't listen to him. He's biased on behalf of scarves. ]

Oh, hey, you should see the one where it's a vest but there's no back and they're not like wearing a shirt under it, it's really bizarre. What even were the 90s?

[ She looks back at him with an eyebrow raised, glancing up and down at his clothes. ]

Not that you should talk, it's like sixty degrees outside, why are you wearing a scarf?

[ Jefferson wrinkles his nose at the mere description of that outfit, attempting to visualize it. But before he can comment on it, Rhiannon's turned her scrutiny onto him and his scarf. ]

It's not too hot for a scarf. [ There, that's his non-answer. It beats "I might have been decapitated once, but I'm not sure, so I keep the scar covered." ]

It's April, [ Comes the totally flat reply. ] I know we're in Idaho, but winter is no longer coming until it's, like, October, so scarves are completely out of season. For someone who prides himself on dressing fashionably, you sure aren't up on the trends.

[ She flips a page, and perks up a little, showing him the page. ] Oh! Mini backpacks are in! Just what I need to not be able to carry anything important on me at all!

[ That is a very large bird.

A raven, something in his memory says. One of the largest of the passerines (no idea what that means), with a habitat that spreads across the northern hemisphere, largely found in temperate climates though they exist in extremes as varied as Everest and North Africa. Primarily differentiated from crows by size, similar in appearance across the spectrum of various species in spite of significant genetic variation.

Why does he know this. Why is any of this relevant. What the heck were his hobbies before the accident because that's a lot of information that feels totally useless. ]

You probably have a better sense of yourself than I do.

[ This, to the bird, from a safe distance. ]

Edited 2017-04-04 16:19 (UTC)

[ The bird turns, in what the bird hopes is a quick and really cool looking maneuver, but she's a bird right now and nothing she does is cool or quick, so it's really more of a waddle of skittering feet. Birds, Rhiannon's father used to say, weren't meant to walk. It's why they look absolutely ridiculous when they do so. But while Rhiannon can (and likes to) fly, she's still human at heart.

So that safe distance? It's not gonna be safe for long cuz now you have about four pounds of black feathers chicken walking at you at full speed.

HE'S GOT THUMBS HE CAN OPEN THE DOOR ]

[ He backs up. Quickly. ]

That wasn't an insult!

[ LARGE BIRD, DON'T PECK HIS EYES OUT. He hasn't actually seen The Birds but he's now wondering if that was an oversight on his part-- oh hey he remembers that there's a movie called--

And that's lamp he just backed into, ow. ]

[ NO STOP RUNNING—

oh my god

Rhiannon flaps her wings to keep herself upright as she hacks out this weird, squawk that... that can really only be described as laughter.

Anyway, it's not stopping her from getting any closer. She leans forward, nips at his pant leg, and hops away back towards the store. ]

[ BIRD ATTACK, BIRD ATTACK--

Bird attack...

Not a bird attack. The bird wants something from him. Okay. He's in Narnia. Sure. Why not. ] I can't let you in there. You're a bird.

[ She stops her hopping and sighs (or the bird equivalent of a sigh, anyway, which is probably nothing but a short huff of breath as she puffs her feathers out), hopping back towards him. No, come on. She reaches for his pant leg again.

Let's go, dude with thumbs, I don't have all day?? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

rhiannon allan - open!

outside!

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TEA SHOP

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HOW DID I MISS THIS

NO IDEA

OUTSIDE...... in case that wasn't obvious

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