(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD 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 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.

Comments

Chase Collins | The Covenant

[bastardofipswich]

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.

It must be his, right? ]

[fidelis]

[ From the direction of the kitchen comes a thump, an "ow," and then a startled response:]

Yes, hello?

[ Enter Sam Seaborn, stage left, from the direction of the kitchen. He stops briefly in the foyer, sandwich in one hand - he did a little shopping after all - listening to the sounds of someone rummaging through the room that is definitely not his.

He sort of hoped it was there by accident.

Sam looks around, briefly, and puts his sandwich down on a side table. He might need both hands free, and he'd rather not have to clean up sandwich mess as no doubt would result from trying to punch somebody while holding one.

He leans cautiously into the bedroom Chase currently occupies, taking the kid in, seeing the way he matches his surroundings.

Well. Shit. ] I don't suppose you have the wrong house.

[bastardofipswich]

[ Chase whips around to look at Sam, his eyes narrowed briefly as he tries to assess how much of a threat this guy might be. He seems pretty fit, about the same size and build as Chase, too, which doesn't put the teenager much at ease. Looks like he'll have to finish rummaging through these desk drawers later (so far: nothing interesting). ]

I don't have the wrong house. [ The way he says it is borderline combative, as if he's ready to throw down if Sam disagrees. Ah, teenage posturing. A totally crafty way of masking insecurity and anxiety. ] You're... [ What? His guardian? His dad-- no, remember, he doesn't have a dad... Well, when in doubt, don't seem weak or whatever. Chase crosses his arms and regards Sam with a cool look of appraisal, lifting his brow in amusement. ] You're not some weirdo running a child slavery ring or something, right?

[fidelis]

[ Sam draws himself up, affronted. ] Excuse you. No, I'm not. As far as I know, you're a home invader with bad taste in valuables.

[ He pauses. ] And if you live here, I apologize for saying your belongings are in bad taste. But I don't remember you. I don't remember much of anything at the moment.

[ Blink. ] Which is, I admit, not the greatest thing to tell someone who may or may not be a stranger in my house.

[bastardofipswich]

[ The second Sam actually apologizes for insulting the decor of this room that may or may not be Chase's, he teenager senses a sucker. Cue: a wounded puppy look. ] I'm not a home invader. You don't have to be such a dick about things...

[ In fact, he's about to spin some kind of outlandish lie about their relation to each other-- since it's not like this guy remembers anything in general (much like Chase, but at least Chase isn't dumb enough to admit it)-- but then, it's funny, but with the two of them face-to-face and exchanging words, he finally feels something familiar about this. And then it's like some of the gaps in his head start to fill.

Chase wrinkles his nose. ]

Seriously, Sam? If you thought I was a burglar, why would you tell me that! It's like putting a big, flashing "ROB ME" sign over your head. [ GOD, YOU'RE AN IDIOT. Unlike Chase. ]

I - Around Mainstreet

[toten_sie]

[ Randel doesn't mean to talk into the other man. It's just that... he doesn't remember anything, no matter how many times he walks around this town, walks down this street, looks at the shops and the stores and the people. None of them seem familiar, none of them are the woman from his memory or his sister, but there's a feeling that maybe if he just keeps looking at them, maybe things will make sense. He'd been standing still near one of the neatly-manicured trees, staring at a shop that smells very good but brings absolutely nothing to mind and he'd decided to move on and thanks to his eye level being literally no one else's, well- ]

Sorry. I guess I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you all right?

[bastardofipswich]

[ Chase lets out a startled yelp as he suddenly walks into... a tree? No, not a tree. Just a man who's freaking built like one. Between the scars and the fact that he's got at least a foot of height on Chase, he kind of paints an intimidating picture. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't really matter to the teenager, arrogant as he is.

But he's way off his game right now; he barely knows who he is, so obviously he's got no idea what to expect from this huge stranger. Chase eyes him cautiously, his body language somewhat defensive... until the apology comes. That has him relaxing, just a little bit. ]

Uh. Yeah... I'm fine. [ Chase studies him for a moment. ] Are you lost or something?

[toten_sie]

[ The answer comes in a slightly sheepish nod before he turns his eyes towards the main strip, the shop he'd been staring at, and finally back to Chase. ]

Lost. Or maybe 'something'.

[ Is it lost if you know where you are but you don't know who you are? Don't know why you're here or if here is the right place for you to be? ]

I'm trying to remember... anything here.

[ He only realizes after a moment that his words don't make any sense without a great deal of explanation, but he doesn't want to be a bother, or upset this man any more than he already has. He ducks his head a little, letting his shoulders hunch up awkwardly. ]

I don't mean to be confusing. I think I'm getting over a head injury.

[ He 'thinks'. He's not sure. He definitely doesn't remember it. Something about a car accident, but he doesn't think he can drive. He doesn't remember driving. There's foggy other things but nothing about driving. ]

[bastardofipswich]

[ It's weird, it's like this guy's trying to make himself appear smaller than he is, the way he hunches his shoulders and everything. Chase likes to think that if he were a freaking giant, he'd own that shit, stand as tall and broad as possible and make everyone get out of his way.

But whatever, he's not too concerned about that, not when the guy's talking about head injuries and memory problems. That is relevant to Chase's interests. So he smiles, not sure why it comes so easy to him to fake it. ]

Hey, don't worry about it. It's, uh... [ He rubs the back of his head, seeming a little sheepish. ] It's going around. I just got out of the hospital, myself.

I. wandering

[onteamdyson]

[It's slow at the nail salon today. Even slower without a cellphone to pass the time. Seriously, no one here has smartphones. Kenzi's resorted to thinking in hashtags and saying emoji descriptions out loud to compensate for the technology withdrawal.

Her breaks are spent outside the shop, leaning against the window and watching people pass by. You can learn a lot from people watching. It's probably only fair, since someone is also watching her with those cameras. It would help if half the population here wasn't boring as all fuck. Uuuuugh. So lame. Nothing to do. Going crazy-- HEY!]

That's a lot of black. [Like she can talk. She's wearing black tights and an oversized concert tee that is basically a dress on her. It's some heavy metal band that Brock listens to. She only stole it because it's comfy.]

... You want your nails to match your outfit?

[bastardofipswich]

[ Chase's memories may be resembling Swiss cheese right now, but he knows a kindred spirit when he sees one! Of course, it helps that they're both wearing a sort of... goth uniform, the two of them clad in black from head to toe. Though Chase doesn't really remember being super into goth things (how does he even know what 'goth' is right now?), the affinity for black and... Bauhaus and the Cure and skulls and bats and stuff... That kind of feels right. Yeah. Okay.

So he stops in his steps and looks at the girl, then at the shop she's loitering in front of, then back at her. ]

Are you offering me a mani-pedi? [ There's a note of laughter in his voice, so it's pretty clear, at least, that he's not one of those guys who freaks out and thinks anything 'girly' will make his dick shrivel and fall off. ]

[onteamdyson]

Yeah, you down?

[Why's he so incredulous? She's a nail technician in front of a nail salon with literally nothing to do! It's amazing how a work ethic will suddenly develop due to intense boredom. Apparently sleeping in until 2pm and drinking all the time doesn't pay the bills.

...Also it sucks actually having bills.

Kenzi smiles at the ...kid? Guy? He looks young. He also looks an INSANE amount like her cousin and her housemate. It's kinda weird, but a lot of shit around here is kind of weird and she's willing to let it slide.]

You got something better to do? Because I... do not. And it blows.

[bastardofipswich]

[ Chase glances around, as if trying to see if he does have something better he could be doing. As it turns out: he does not. So he shrugs, offering her a half-grin. ]

Guess I don't. So sure, why not. Might as well complete the look.

[ So he walks towards the shop, just to show he's not fucking around. LET'S DO THIS, STRANGER. ]

Just black, huh?

[sirnyxalot]

[Nyx has had some bad weeks. He can say that with confidence now that he's remembering what he's been missing. But this one had to rank in the top five. He can't decide which is worse: experiencing tragedy or having it shoved back in his head all at once.

He lifts his hand to ask for another beer, seated by himself at the bar. He wishes Libertus were here. Someone he could compare notes with, figure out what he's still missing.

He can't help but look up when the door opens. It's a soldier's instinct; a small thread of paranoia that doesn't go away the more he remembers how much he doesn't belong in this place.]

[bastardofipswich]

[ One thing Chase knows for certain: he's not 21. And yet? That doesn't stop him from sauntering into one of this town's bars as if he's totally old enough to drink. Does he even like alcohol? He has no idea, can't remember any which way. But apparently rule breaking is something that comes naturally to him; regardless of what he can or can't remember, he gets a thrill out of it either way.

So he sits next to one of the only other guys in the bar-- older, fit, cool hair that Chase is almost envious of-- and flashes him a quick, cocky grin before trying to get the bartender's attention.

It... doesn't exactly go well. He just gets a deadpan look, and a suggestion that he try ordering some pop. ]

[sirnyxalot]

[Nyx watches as the kid (he's clearly not old enough to be here by whatever law this town operates under. Something Nyx learned was a thing only by witnessing other local minors attempt to get around said law) saunters up to the bar like he belongs there. He raises an eyebrow at the cocky grin, reminded suddenly of himself when he was that age. Young, confident, and so far untouched by the long arms of the Empire.

The bartender shoots the kid down, and Nyx huffs a laugh, pulling off his beer without even bothering to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping.

Hey, when you sit next to him, you invite his attention.]

Random Shop

[babyhunter]

[Clary is having difficulties. She has a key marked with a number and had been told that it’s the key to her house. She doesn’t remember very much but she does remember that she isn’t supposed to return home. She’d been told not to…

Who told her not to?

She can’t remember and that uncertainty continues to gnaw at her, creating knots of tension beneath her breast bone.] This is stupid. [She spoke aloud, not talking to anyone in particular. Her fingers tug at the hem of her black dress, wishing that it’d cover more of her legs. It’s too cold to stand outside so she dashes into the nearest shop and runs into the back of someone who’d entered just before.]

Sorry, I…

[Her voice trails off when she looks up and see’s Chase in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow slightly.]

Do I know you?

[Knowing her luck she doesn’t know him and he just looks like someone she knows making the start of this conversation very awkward.]

[bastardofipswich]

[ And here Chase was, innocently trying to look at the offerings in this music store, when somebody runs right into his back. Wrinkling his nose for a moment, he looks over his shoulder then steps aside so that they're not standing right up on each other. There's a moment where he's looking the girl over, definitely trying to figure out what's going on with her outfit before he decides: that's a weird freaking dress for where and when they're at. Who wanders around Main Street in Bumfuck, Idaho, dressed like that in the middle of the day?

But then, recognition starts to dawn on him-- an odd feeling, both comforting (because it beats being a blank slate) and unnerving (because how did he forget so much in the first place?). ]

Yeah... We go to school together. [ He stares at her for a beat longer. JUDGING. ] Is there a party I don't know about?

[babyhunter]

[Clary blinks up at Chase before tugging the hem of her dress. It doesn't do a lot to cover her legs but it makes her feel a little less naked. A blush creeps into her cheeks at his question.]

No, I got these from the sheriffs station... they said they were mine. [They don't feel like hers.]

Oh, right, school. [That makes sense and she remembers seeing him in the halls. This isn't something she really wants to get around school.] I don't usually dress like this. [It's at least stated for the record.]

[appetitive]

[It seems that the majority of citizens in this town are just... wandering around. There are people working in the shops and restaurants along the main street running through town, but aside from those who are employed, no one else appears to be walking with any purpose. It strikes Magnus as odd, even if he also lacks any specific destination or goal as he meanders down the sidewalk.

Yet, as he walks, he finds that maybe there is a reason for him to be mingling with the other townsfolk. He feels drawn to some of them as if they exude a tangible aura, invisible until it brushes up against Magnus. There aren't many, but it's hard to ignore when that feeling hits him in the form of someone who shares his taste in fashion; specifically, black.] Excuse me, but where did you get that excellent jacket? All of the stores here seem convinced that flannel is still in fashion.

[bastardofipswich]

[ Chase may not remember much of anything, but there's a nagging familiarity about the undercurrent of contempt he feels when looking around the streets and the shops and the people. It's like there's a deep-seated hatred of small-town life and the boring, down-to-earth people that inhabit places like this.

Weird that he can remember that when his mind's so blank on any actual specifics about his life.

But maybe that's why his eyes are drawn to the first person he thinks might be a kindred spirit of some kind, even if he doesn't know what that necessarily means in this case. Hot guy dressed in black, fashionable clothes? Yeah, of course Chase is going to be receptive to his attention. He grins, hoping to come across as cool and friendly, but then his face falls once he realizes that he can't even answer the question. ]

I, uh-- [ He ducks his head a little, shrugging one shoulder as he chuckles somewhat sheepishly. ] You know, I don't really remember. [ Which is alarming, but here he is trying to play it off like it's no big deal. ]

[appetitive]

[The parade of expressions that are quick to flit across the man's face reminds Magnus of his own confused emotions. It was one thing to wake up and be told you were in an accident, another entirely to lack any memory of the accident and your entire life before it. Not that he's assuming this man was also in an accident—that would have been a ridiculous coincidence.

Waving his hand through the air as if to brush aside something unpleasant, Magnus flashed a bright smile.] I doubt it was in this town. The shops are cute, but not exactly my style.

[bechdelpls]

[ Sarah recognizes him. She's not sure where she recognizes him from, but it's enough for now that she does. It's a spark of something comforting, even if she can't recall anything but his face.

--And a name. Chase. Chase Collins.

She raises her camera and pantomimes taking a picture of him, saving the film for a subject she doesn't see all the time. (All the time?) ]

You look like crap.

[bastardofipswich]

[ It's odd, Chase looks at Sarah and he recognizes her immediately. All right, maybe that's not odd, exactly. That's how he should feel when he sees people he knows. It shouldn't be out of the ordinary. Except, since he woke up in the hospital, it is unusual to look at someone and instantly go, "Oh! That's so-and-so."

But here he is: oh! That's Sarah! His... friend?

Sure. Let's go with that.

Chase snorts, playfully pushing her camera away. ]

Settle down, paparazzi. You know I always look good.

[bechdelpls]

Oh yeah, especially after you sack out on my couch and don't bring spare clothes. [ It feels good to say something and have the rightness of it come to her as she speaks. Yeah, Chase! Her friend, fellow outsider. ] You should be nice to me, Collins, I hit my head and apparently knocked everything out of it.