(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

sam seaborn | various locations | open

[fidelis]

one; got the stuff

Sam is dressed now, at least. He ran most of the way to the Police Department, focus on absolutely nothing but getting her bare feet (and bare butt) back inside. Now that he's at least clothed in a familiar suit, he's taking in a bit more of his surroundings.

Specifically, the official notice posted in a store window. He has a mushroom cloud of outrage blooming in his chest. Enough that he can forget the cold, for a moment.

"Excuse me-- hey, excuse me!" He's trying to get the attention of passerby, but something on his face seems to tip them off. "Excuse me, can you explain to me what this is about? Is it a joke? It's a joke, right?"

two; dat house doh

He circles the place twice before trying his key in the front door. The first trip around the building, he's waiting for someone to open a window and yell at him. The second time, he's wondering how on earth one person would use this much space. It seems borderline obscene, though he can't put his finger on why.

Sam takes a deep breath, slots key into lock, and tentatively opens the front door.

three; main street

There is no food in his house. 'His' house. He doesn't recognize the place, even if it does have all the basic trimmings. It looks more like a residential hotel or something. Not that he's ever been in one to know what they look like, but he imagines they probably look sort of like his house.

'His.'

At the moment he's flitting from storefront to storefront, peering through the windows and trying to decide his best bet for food or if he really wants to grocery shop tonight at all given. Everything.

He's also looking for one store, just one, that doesn't have that awful official notice in the window.

four; weaver's

It's drawing down toward evening and Sam has discovered the not-really-hole-in-the-wall hole-in-the-wall bar where he can get something resembling a real drink. Even if it's only a vague resemblance.

Granted, drinking with a probable head injury isn't the best idea he's ever had in his life, but he can't remember the better ones right now, so who cares? He's nursing a Black Eye - the drink, not the injury - and staring at a spot on the table in front of him like he can bore his way through it with his thoughts.

His thoughts, such as they are, keep cycling through a memory that's been clarifying itself over the past hour. Him, in a classroom, telling a room full of faces he can't quite see about the importance of civic obedience. There's passion in the speech. Belief. It makes him feel dirty, like a coward and a fraud. Not to mention the speech itself--

"It's just bad writing."

He knocks back the drink.

four!

[firelords]

( There had been no food at 'home', and so Azula had gone out into the wild, wide world that was the main street to find some – only to discover that a royal status most citizen refuse to acknowledge doesn't actually get you anything to eat. Now positively angry hungry hangry, she had wound up at the bar. Why? Because the menu hanging outside had said 'free lollipops at the counter', and 'free' is just what she can afford right now.

Turns out, a lollipop is not food. It's not even dignified.

It's still free, and here she is, here she'll stay, and here she'll eat free candy until someone kicks her out. )

What is?

( Her voice is sharp – someone's unused to conversations – and her eyes are narrow. She feels as if she knows this man, though she isn't sure where from. There's something nagging at the back of her mind... like she's forgotten to do something. Like something's due. Like she should hand in an assignment on Monday. )

three.

[ceoinstilettos]

( sam’s not the only one trying to make sense of the official notices posted everywhere and on everything. pepper has been staring down one notice in particular for what seems like forever, because the social norms it outlines just don’t make any sense to her. furrowing her brow she bites back a sigh, deciding that, right now, she might as well play along… at least until she sees someone looking just as distressed as she is. )

Little strict here, huh, ( it’s a gamble, she realizes, but if she’s pegged him wrong and push comes to shove she can laugh it off. ) it seems just a tad excessive.

one

[comic_relief]

Jack remembers everything now--where he comes from, what happened in Pandemonium, where he should be after what had happened in Pandemonium--and cautious compliance is the result. A month has yielded no concrete way out of here, just plenty of examples of why testing the authorities is risky business.

After the sheriff recently hauled both of his roommates to the police station, one for "questioning" and the other under arrest, Jack's felt eyes on him ever since, whether imagined or not. He's been a paragon of good behavior since, head down, mouth shut. It's all pretend, but pretending is the key to blending in around here.

On the flip side, the quickest way to draw attention: do what this guy's doing. Whirling away from one of the notice papers with agitation in his face and voice, demanding answers so that people give him a wide berth.

Holy crap.

"Did someone mention jokes? As a joke master, you won't find anyone better at them than me," Jack says, making for the man in the suit in the hopes of intervening before this gets ugly. The cape tied around his neck billows slightly with the movement. It's an eye-catching addition to an otherwise unremarkable fashion ensemble, well-made and a bright, bloody red. The only thing brighter might be the bright smile he fixes on Sam. Play along, play along, play along.

"It's all right, man, maybe you should just--take a breath." His hand hovers near Sam's elbow, an attempt to gently steer him around to face the building and not the eyes of onlookers. Nothing to see here, everybody, nothing at all.

NONE OF THE ABOVE

[royalpassport]

(Continued from here.)

[ Jefferson sniffs, a hint of something snobbish in his bearing, and he shrugs. You know, as if amnesia-inducing accidents were perfectly normal, everyday occurrences, and Sam's just behind the times or something.

Look, Jefferson very rarely gets to be in this position these days, the one where he's actually holding the cards. He finds it tickles some part of him, likely tied to one of his delusional personas-- like the thief in his head. ]

It was a little accident. Knocked a few things loose. It happens.

Three

[onteamdyson]

Kenzi's been walking behind this dude past a few storefronts now, and each time she's stopped to stare at him when he gets all up in their windows like a huge weirdo. He seems... nervous. Squirrely. She gets it, she's been there! But she wasn't so obvious about it.

After the fourth stop-and-stare, she loudly clears her throat and walks up to the guy. "Hey... are you okay?" Do you need help? Should you be strapped to a bed somewhere?

four, with a twist

[unforgivably]

[ It hasn't been the most eventful day for Damon Salvatore, but even the uneventful ones usually end with him at one of the bars. If not there, home with his thoughts and a glass of expensive bourbon. On trying days, the bottle. But, today was neither difficult nor trying. It was just a day. A day in which he had lunch with his "wife," with whom he's getting to be on better terms with. They laid everything bare. And neither will speak of the day he was called because his wife was deathly ill at their local haunt. Anyway, lunch with Katherine at all could drive anyone to drink, much less an alcoholic like Damon Salvatore.

Tonight's poison is accompanied with a game of pool, Damon bolstering his ego and running the table for the time being. Vampire skills, they count for something in this town. He can't be going into everyone's minds.

Glancing up, the arrival of a newcomer (so new and yet to familiar) distracts him enough that he misses his shot. The other play tries to bust his chops, but he tosses the cue back onto the table. "Didn't you bring that from home?"

He'll get it back.

Right now, he's striding toward this guy sitting at the bar. He's not sure when he came in, Damon needs to be more aware of his surroundings in this town, he's sure. But, something else he's sure of, is that a part of him has been waiting for him to get here tonight. Which is a sensation he never tires of. Read: has tired of. ]

Top him off for me. [ That's to the bartender, but Sam, gets a tilt of the head. ] You're late. [ He furrows his brow. ] What happened to your eye? [ It always hits this way, something comes through, normal. It'll pass, and the skepticism will step back in. But for now, this is Sam, one friend of Damon Salvatore who must have a good reason to not have joined him earlier. Maybe it was grading papers. Or, his "kid." Why, he knows all this, all this information he shouldn't, he'd still like answers for. ]

Randel Oland ✄ Various Locations ✄ OPEN

[toten_sie]

waking up

[He can't remember anything, but for some reason, this feels familiar. Waking up somehwere he doesn't know, unsure of what'd happened before, his mind a fuzzy blur with a few memories solidifying into-

Huh. Well, this looks like... a hospital? A really bright hospital where everything seems really clean and strangely...

Strange. There's a feel of unease that settles in his gut, only made worse by the fact that there's nothing for him to compare to, no memories to match up the strange familiar feeling. But the one thing he does know is that he doesn't want to be here. He cooperates with the nurses, largely keeps quiet while he answers what questions he can for them and does what they tell him, and then he pretends to be asleep so that they'll leave him alone. Then he's going to make a break for it. This is not a place for him.

There's a glance down at his wounds, and the numerous scars and marks from old wounds. There's some very careful adjustments, a little bit of shuffling around, and then he's slipping out of the bed, careful that his legs can hold up his body. He's big, but pretty quiet and good at fading into the background. He's hopeful that he'll make it out and to

To somewhere else. That's all he knows. Somewhere else. He just wants to be somewhere else.]

heading outside

[ When he does get out there, with clothes and all, he decides to take some time to walk around, see what this place is like. See if he can find... her. The woman from his memory. Or maybe the sister he remembers. Ursula. The hands in that memory are so much smaller than his now, he knows it has to have been years ago, but he'd sold himself for her medicine, so he has to hope that she's alive, that it'd worked. Ursula or... blonde hair. Her. He can remember her arms around him and how good it had felt. And now that he's here, alone, and confused, he's hoping he can find her again. Maybe she has the answers he needs. Hopefully, someone does. ]

items reclaimed

[ When he gets to the sheriff's station, he's happy to get his bed roll and the other supplies, especially his uniform and his hat; it'll be cold without them, after all. Of course, he's been given a house key but for some fuzzy reason that doesn't seem right. He can't see himself with a house and when he thinks of sleeping, it mostly involves squeezing the bedroll in one arm. The only thing that makes him hesitate is the lantern, and a part of him wants to tell the sheriff to keep it with the other things he sort of half remembers he should have, the things that go in the holsters that are part of his uniform.

Almost. But there are some things about this place that go up his spine, things that just seem wrong for reasons he can't figure out, and that's why he takes the lantern and puts it on the notch on his belt that looks like it was made for just that thing. He knows what the lantern can do, at least... somewhat. He knows he doesn't want to turn it on. So when he leaves the sheriff's offices, he makes his way towards main street first to see what's there before he heads for his new 'home'. After all, if he's been in the hospital, he's going to need a few supplies, isn't he? That makes sense... he thinks it makes sense, anyway... ]

waking up!

[firelords]

( Azula, on her end, is also very concerned with leaving the hospital for Somewhere Else as fast as she can, which is why she's armed herself with a piece of broken glass and a solid amount of defiance, and is just leaving her room when she's faced with seven and a half feet of Randel. As far as 'people the hospital could send to stop potentially escaping patients' go, someone looking like him is pretty much at the top of her list – not that she can't see herself dealing with him. It's mostly that she is exhausted, a little dizzy, and not entirely sure her bending would do what she needs it to do right now. )

Are you leaving or here to keep people from leaving?

( Honestly, the hospital gown ought to tip her off, but she doesn't quite remember how people are supposed to dress, and who even knows with this hospital? )

azula 🔥 pick your poison » open

[firelords]

wakey wakey eggs and assault;

( Azula may feel sluggish, but that is no reason to act docile. She knows she isn't the only patient in the hospital room, but that isn't her main concern right now – mostly, she is bothered by having to be in here herself. And she is eager to share that particular feeling with the poor, harassed-looking nurse who came to check up on them. When neither insults not commands seem to change the nurse's mind on whether or not she ought to stay in bed (actually, quite the opposite, because Azula's repeated insistence on being royalty bring out the words 'head trauma' and 'severely confused), she seems to accept her fate.

The moment she appears to relax coincides with the moment she spotted a vase full of flowers, most likely courtesy of a previous or fellow patient with kind friends or relatives, on one of the nightstands.

The second the nurse closes the door behind herself, Azula is up and moving. The vase breaks when she wipes it off the table, and she picks out whichever glass shard looks the most menacing, leaving the rest of them in the puddle of water and flowers on the floor. Once that is done, she finally acknowledges her fellow patient – )

You won't sell me out, will you?

( It would sound so much more threatening if she wasn't fourteen and in a nightgown. )

home sweet nope;

( Back in full uniform, she stands next to the mail box in front of 'her' home, and looks a little like a person who has just realised that she has been the victim of a particularly unfunny prank. This is supposed to be it, and part of her feels as though the place is familiar, but there is another part that argues back: even from the outside, it looks small. Far too small. She isn't sure what the alternative would be, but, considering the might with which she clings to her title, there's a fairly generic idea of a palace or castle that pops into her head.

Except what she's picturing there doesn't feel remotely familiar.

She checks the mail box. Nothing interesting, just the ever-present official notice. She crumbles it up and tosses it over her shoulder.

That would be a good time to dodge, neighbour. )

home sweet nope

[bulletfool]

( Izumi is on an innocuous stroll around the neighborhood when something bounces off of his shoulder. Directing his gaze to the ground with a bewildered blink, he crouches down to pick up the crumpled notice. )

Hey, hey, you shouldn't litte—ah.

( The word catches as he looks up. He recognizes the girl, weird clothes aside, and straightens to get a better look with a wide-eyed expression. )

You! It's . . . you.

( But he doesn't remember her name, yet, so he gives up on that one. )

pepper potts ▪️ mcu ▪️ open!

[ceoinstilettos]

_1.at the hospital.

( pepper wakes with a start, heart thumping and ears ringing as she tries to make sense of what’s going on. her first thought isn’t a hospital, it’s something much worse, which is why in a few short seconds she’s panicking. she tries to keep a lid on just how uncomfortable she is, but when the room is suddenly bustling with bodies she feels her control on the situation start to slip. )

( a car accident, some head trauma, a few minor injuries, and a case of mild amnesia. in such a short amount of time it’s a lot to take in, but all pepper hears are excuses. nodding the nurses to death with a tight lipped smile and proclamations of i’m fine she finally manages to persuade them to leave. it helps that she’s the least of their concerns, because of some sort of outbreak… which is, well, it’s mildly disconcerting. still, the fact that they’re preoccupied gives her ample time to slip out of her room. )

( as she explores the hospital in search of the exit she comes to realize that she’s not there or with him. it’s not enough to placate her fears to the point where she can relax, but she’s no longer actively avoiding anybody. she should see about getting some more information, since her thoughts are a clouded mess. )

_2.around town.

( as soon as she learns that her possessions are at the sheriff’s station she decides to make that her first stop, because walking around town in nothing but a hospital gown isn’t an idea she relishes in. )

( it takes but a moment to collect her stuff, a sharp grey ensemble that she changes into almost immediately, her necklace ( thank god ), and a tablet that she can’t for the life of her remember the password to. she doesn’t spend too much time on it, however, and instead decides to try to find her house. )

( keyword: try. )

( she doesn’t recognize much, but she feels significantly better than she had earlier. ) Excuse me— ( with a smile she flags down the nearest person for directions. ) I’m a little lost… ( it’s not something she’s happy to admit ( since this is supposedly where she lives ) but she’s not too proud to ask for help. )

_3.wildcard.

( hit me up @ respawnin321. )

2

[bulletfool]

( she stops him on his way to kill time. compared to this lady, izumi almost feels underdressed in his casual attire, but the smile is easy to match as he withdraws his hands from his pant pockets and adopts a respectful tone. )

Where do you need to go?

adora ➞ various locations ➞ open

[metades]

I. THE HOSPITAL

( There's a distinct feeling of panic about being in a hospital. You hit your head pretty hard, the nurse had told her earlier, unceremoniously replacing a stained bandage on her right arm. Something-something about oncoming traffic and a car on the wrong lane, you've been out for weeks and it's a surprise you're alive, but Adora doesn't quite feel that way - alive. Not here.

Her body feels stiff but it hasn't stopped her from sneaking from her bed during a silent hour to wander in search of an inconspicuous exit and it must be some sort of otherworldly luck that she manages to get to one of the doors without being dragged back.

It's cold though - whenever the door opens, a rush of cold air blows through the hallway and seeps through the thin hospital gown, prompts her to cough and lean onto a nearby cart. There's metal in her mouth and— )

What the hell--

( — and her hand is stained red, as are her lips.

Come of think of it, the nurse mentioned something about "internal damage". But she's not in pain- and recklessly, she just wants to get out of here. )

II. FROM THE STATION TO MAIN STREET

( Well, she managed to get out, but not under the best circumstances. A pair of hospital slippers only got her so far before she nearly collapsed in the cold and her way to the police station wasn't unaided. Now she's got her clothes back - overalls, a tshirt and a jacket. Somehow they managed to keep her mp3 player though she's dismayed to find the battery is steadily dying, only made worse when she realises her phone has zero reception. The internal damage isn't just her, apparently.

Her house keys are finally back in her pocket, too - or... Adora thinks these are her house keys. That's what the officer tells her anyway, offering some form of sympathetic gaze when she expresses confusion about where her home even is, but she's sent well on her way before there's time to ask anymore questions.

So there she is - just sort of left to wander, not-so-cold and armed with a handkerchief in case that weird cough comes back, trying to piece back where everything is. She seems to recall some of the stores but not others and something in the back of her head forcibly reminds her to stay away from the roadside... Even though she's not paying much attention, so it's no surprise if she bumps into someone sooner or later. )

III. HOME IS WHERE THE [???] IS

( Shuffling through the streets finally got her somewhere -- so this is her place? There's some old flower pots outside and, for some reason, some silly Halloween prop unceremoniously dropped on the lawn (is it some sort of joke?). The house has a welcoming look to it, sure, but it looks eerie. Adora can't quite place it though.

It's weird, but it's true - your neighbor is back home and for some reason just decided to stare at her own house from beside the mailbox. Really; all she does is stand there and stare at it instead of going in.

She's just had a pretty bad accident though - could you really blame her? )

hospital.

[ceoinstilettos]

( pepper can’t place the reason she feels so uncomfortable in the hospital, but being hooked up to an assortment of machines and being assured she’s going to be ok has done nothing but put her on edge. it’s not that the staff doesn’t sound sincere, but there’s just something about the story she’s being spoon fed and the memories she recalls that’s not adding up… though there’s an eerie sense of familiarity here that keeps her from questioning it. )

( she bides her time, waiting until the sun’s set to leave her room. it’s gotten quiet over the past couple of hours, so while she’s a little paranoid about being caught and confined to her room again she really just wants. to. leave. )

( rounding a corner the sound of coughing startles her, a hand moving to her chest as she tries to get a handle on her nerves. relax pepper, it’s just… a girl doubled over a cart looking worse for wear. she frowns, hesitating but ultimate. deciding to see if she’s ok. approaching adora and setting a hand to her back she offers a small, if but comforting smile. ) Are you alright? You… ( don’t look so good. ) Is that blood?

Lorna Dane | various locations | open

[geomagnetically]

(note; brackets or prose is fine! I'll match your format. Lorna's Pines-specific info is here.)
____

• outside (before or after item collection) •
Yep, this gown is not fit for this weather. The green-haired mutant has an expression on her face that is somewhere between confused and annoyed, the cause of which is a lot of reasons. One, she's cold. Two, she has close to no memories of what went on or what is going on. Three, ugh -- just ugh. Perhaps she will see someone else on her way to the Police Station, who either knows more than she does, or just someone to talk to.

Once she gets her stuff at the Police Station, she changes into the green uniform she was given because that seems like the warmer of the two clothing options. Now as she wanders towards a house she is told is hers, and a key in hand, she may also stop to ask people where the best places to get a meal are around here, any interesting things to note, stuff like that. Information gathering.

• house •
Once she's inside to check this place out, she doesn't pay much attention to everything else as she goes into an empty bedroom and puts her second outfit away and tosses the tube of green lipstick she was also given into a pocket of her other robe, she walks around the residence. Maybe she has a roommate or something.

• wildcard option, I guess •
[hit me with a thing.]

outside the police station

[adamantiums]

He already picked up his stuff and changed out of that stupid hospital gown. Even though his jeans and black t-shirt aren't exactly weather appropriate, he's not bothered by the cold at all. There wasn't much for him to collect as far as personal effects--just his clothes, a lighter, and a pack of cigars. One of which he's currently snipping the end off by the only means available to him.

Unhurriedly, he examines the end of the cigar, flicks a bit more to even it out, and then finally retracts his claws with a sharp metallic snikt. To the girl in green passing by, he just gives a nod. Like there hadn't just been huge metal claws protruding from his hand. Nothing to see here.

rhiannon allan - open!

[corby]

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. ]

outside!

[ceoinstilettos]

( 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? )

Sissel | OTA

[corenundrum]

Here, there, everywhere
There's a small black kitten taking up an entire sick bed in the hospital, appearing even smaller on the human-sized mattress. He seems unharmed though with how he looks, he may even appear dead. His body hardly seems to move with any signs of breathing. Maybe touching him would help?

Once he's awake, he just opens his eyes and sits up, peering around calmly, then doing the cat thing by jumping right out the window. (They really shouldn't have kept that thing open.) After that, he can be found wandering around Main Street, meowing at people and getting underfoot to get their attention, lounging atop a bench, staring with wide eyes at people passing by from his perch by a store front, or lying prone and unmoving. Again. Is he dead?

He'll eventually find his way to the police station to retrieve his trademark bandanna, leaping atop the counter to allow a poor unfortunate soul to tie it around his neck while giving him directions and a key to his house. Thankfully, he does get the key tucked into the bandanna but how is a cat supposed to get into his house?!


Spoopy things
Whether it's near or far away from the prone body of a black kitten, there are spooky things underway. Maybe that service bell on your table just rang without you touching it, maybe a ball just rolled seemingly of its own volition, maybe a cabinet door snapped open to knock a bottle of pepper off the counter and onto the floor, or maybe a piece of paper came loose from its tack on a board. The little things start to add up eventually.


Option for dead people
Since he woke up, Sissel has been hopping in and out of the ghost world, where time is frozen and the 'cores' of each inanimate object is visible for him to travel to. It does have the unfortunate side effect of leaving his kitten body prone and unmoving, but the things he can do from there are pretty exhilarating. Particular the parts where he can knock stuff over. That's always a joy.

Eventually, he does come across people with those same cores, if of a slightly different color. It's fascinating enough that he will try to get physically close to the person and link his spirit to their cores. The link allows everything he's thinking to be transferred into the other person's mind and the first thing he says is:

Hello?

Main Street

[toten_sie]

The second he hears the 'meow' from below him, Randel's looking and crouching down to offer a hand for a sniff and perhaps a pet. He gives the kitten a warm, friendly smile.

"Hello there. How're you doing, little one?"

He doesn't have any food on him, but he'll help him look for some if it seems like he wants something. Otherwise, he's happy to offer scritches and affection; Randel doesn't know why, but the cat seems familiar. Or maybe just cats in general seem familiar. Did he own a cat? He's not sure. Can't tell. But the idea sounds nice.

rogue | various | open + closed

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ ooc: I'll match your format; Rogue's Pines info is here. ]

one: waking up

She was in a hospital, that much had been apparent when she'd woken up to an unsmiling nurse looking down at her. A nurse she didn't recognize, but who told her there had been an accident, that's why she felt so tired - she'd been in a coma for weeks, it was perfectly natural that her memory was a little foggy. Natural or not, Marie didn't like it, and she didn't like being there in that room.

The nurse's last instructions were to stay put and wait for the doctor to come by, but as soon as the woman left, Marie was climbing out of bed, stumbling weakly over to the window to look out at a town that she didn't recognize. I can't stay here. That was the one thought running through her mind, that being there in that room was wrong, that she couldn't be confined any longer and she had to go. So she did.

The hospital gown left too much of her skin uncovered, though, so when a quick search of the room turned up nothing even resembling actual clothing, Marie took the sheet on the bed with her, wrapping it around herself so her arms were mostly covered. She was a mutant, she remembered that along with her name, and that touching anyone with her skin would end very badly. The tattoo on her inner left arm reading M4867 is paid no attention for the moment. The strange stripe of white at the front of her hair was a bit harder to ignore.

Stepping quietly from the room, Marie took a quick look around and turned down the opposite hall from where she heard people talking.



two: out in the cold

Even with the added layer of the sheet over her hospital gown, Marie had been half frozen within minutes of stepping outside. It had seemed to take forever for her to reach the Sheriff's station where she'd heard she could find her things, and when she did arrive and claim her few possessions... Well, she must have a very unique sense of style to wear a grey bodysuit. Maybe it had been for some sort of costume party? Did she even go to those sorts of things? It was warmer than the hospital gown, at least, and with the boots and gloves she was well covered and not as likely to hurt someone. The long dark green coat helped against the chill as well, and it was a sore temptation to put up the hood to cover her hair that she'd already noticed wasn't at all like anyone else's.

It was also tempting to immediately search for the house that matched the key she had tucked in her pocket, but seeing the town that was supposed to be her home seemed like a better option. So she set off down Main Street, peering at the shops and restaurants, feeling completely out of place and probably looking it too.



three: home sweet home [closed to housemates]

The house was huge. From the outside, Marie figured there had to be at least three bedrooms, maybe four, and plenty of other space. It was designed to accommodate a large family, that much was clear, but... did she have a family? Was this where she lived with them, or was she alone? Holding the key in her gloved hand, she took a deep breath before walking up the driveway and unlocking the front door.

two

[bulletfool]

It was hard to ignore someone whose behavior made her stick out like a sore thumb. Regarding her with the faint interest of a boy watching passersby to pass the time, Izumi paid the strange woman no mind until the realization that she was not about to look less out of place dawned on him.

Stepping away from the wall of the establishment behind him, he sipped the last of his drink with a noisy slurp and tossed the waste into the nearest receptacle. Then he approached the woman, who, at the very least, looked warm.

"Excuse me! Are you looking for something?"

Maybe a clothing store, he thought, except that dressing oddly seemed to be turning into a more regular occurrence with each person he encountered.

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.

Shiba | OTA

[abnormalsadist]

Hospital
Shiba seems to be one of the rare few who finds enjoyment in his current predicament. He's strolling around rather confidently, nevermind that his ass is hanging out. He even tries to flirt with the nurses for information though with how busy they are, it doesn't work very well.

If he runs into anyone else, he'll be all smiles and even waves them over. "Hello there, could you spare a minute?"


Items reclaimed
He stops at a store front with a reflective window so he can properly check out how he looks in his white button up, long black jacket, and black slacks. He likes what he sees and even turns around in a manner that results in the jacket fanning open around his legs. He takes in the cool air and exhales.

"Welcome to Wayward Pines, huh." he says out loud. He can feel it. That this isn't where he belongs. That he shouldn't even be alive at all. There was no accident. He remembers that much. Which makes all this all the more interesting. He slips his earphones on and turns the MD player on, smiling when he hears classical music stream through.

There is also something else. Something he's been meaning to try. He holds his right hand out, palm up, and after a moment of concentration, the tip of a large Swiss army knife can be seen protruding from his hand, floating upwards almost magically as it magically takes form. Once the knife is whole, it floats above his hand until he reaches up to grab it. There's no visible wound from where the knife exited and he's busy twirling the blade around in his hand.

"Fantastic. ♥" he hums.

Hospital

[babyhunter]

Clary was wandering in no particular direction around the hospital. They had told her to wait to be discharged but that didn’t mean she had to stick to her room. It felt odd that they didn’t have her clothes here but like most things she couldn’t pinpoint why. It was incredibly frustrating but she was taking it in stride, sorting through what little she did know.

She knew her name, it was a start.

She’d been lost in her thoughts when Shiba waved at her. Her red hair was pulled over her shoulders while her green eyes flicked between the hospital staff that bustled by. Clary didn’t know if the boy was talking to her or not but she walked over to him anyway.

"Are you trying to get the attention of a nurse?" Because that wasn’t happening.

Clary Fray/Fairchild || The Shadowhunter Chronicles || OTA

[babyhunter]

| waking up – hospital |

The sound of screeching tires and panicked shouts echoed like an aftershock in Clary’s mind. She didn’t remember what happened but she felt an unsettling tension knotted beneath her breastbone. It was dark and it was then that Clary realized that her eyes were closed.

Clary blinked rapidly as the world pulled into focus. She tried to remember what happened and where she was but her thoughts slipped away like find grains of sand. Clary looked over at the doctors around her, confusion painted clearly across her features. "Um... where am I?"

The woman standing next to Clary was older but kind. She hushed her softly and asked her name. "I’m Clary Fray or… Fairchild. I’m not sure which is correct." They both felt like they belonged to her but one felt more comfortable than the other. "Fray. Clary Fray." She corrected herself, feeling her confusion peek. After a moment of silence she tried a different question and hoped that it might yield an answer. "What happened to me?" The woman hushed her again and said that she'd be able to leave once the doctor had cleared her. With that the nurse rushed from the room leaving a very confused and dazed Clary lying on the hospital bed.

She sat there for a half hour, though it felt much longer than that, and tried her best to recall random memories: learning to ride a bike, her first kiss, the first movie she remembered seeing in theaters? Nothing filled the void inside her head. A name rose to mind but without context it was just a name. Clary looked at the table to her left and found a pen and a pad of paper that had been forgotten by the frantic nurse. She pushed herself up and pulled the paper into her lap. Her pen scratched over the page forming images that Clary felt like she had drawn before. None of them looked familiar and after another attempt, in which she drew a very odd looking cup, she crumbled up the paper and tossed it across the room where it rolled through the open door and out towards the hall.

It took another long moment for Clary to deliberate what to do next. She carefully detached herself from the medical equipment and rose from the bed. A rush of excitement filled her as she exited her room and set to explore the hospital. She could be found wandering through most of the building, peeking into any open door that might hold answers on the other side of its threshold.

| bee lining - street/police station |

By the time that Clary was free of the hospital she was hungry and frustrated. It was hard to pin point the exact reason why she was so unhappy when there were so many reasons to choose from: she was wearing a hospital gown, couldn’t remember very much about her situation, her stomach had been growling for the last hour and she couldn’t figure out why they didn’t have her clothes at the hospital or at least a jacket that they could lend her. No wonder people were getting sick around here.

Nothing about this was normal and by Clary’s standards, it was not okay. She bee lined from the hospital to the sheriff’s station after learning that her clothes were being safely held there. It was cold and uncomfortable but she had hope that her own clothes might fill her with a sense of normalcy.

Clary felt uncomfortable whenever she noticed someone staring at her. She tried to ignore it but her pace would inventibly quicken whenever she noticed a pair of eyes cast her way.

Arriving at the police station felt like a mercy, that was, before they handed her the clothes they had marked with her name.

"There must be some mistake. This isn’t mine…" Clary had stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of black shoes and a black dress that was designed for a night out, not walking through the cold winter air. It didn’t feel like something she’d normally wear however it succeeded in making her feel like a freckled lanky awkward excuse for a girl.

| wandering – street/shops |

After being assured that the dress was hers, Clary made her way back out to the busy streets. The cold wind pierced her exposed skin and tugged wildly at her hair. She cursed silently, her fingers tugging at the hem of the dress to make it cover a little bit more of her legs.

She felt ridiculous.

Clary wandered through the streets hoping to find a shop that might sell jeans or a baggy t-shirt or a sweater. Not that she had any money. She hoped that maybe she could give an IOU and come back later. This had to count as some sort of emergency.

She made her way in and out of a lot of shops; some helpful and some not. She paused when she saw the java house and turned towards it. Something about it called to her; it looked familiar.

Despite her current wardrobe problems she made her way inside, greeting the warmed air with a smile. It smelled like coffee and bread and bit by bit Clary felt her discomfort melt away. She couldn’t say why but she was happy all the same. Not having money on her was slowly becoming more of a problem but that didn’t stop her from staring wantingly at the menu, while possibly standing in someone’s way.

| home sweet home – street/home |

Clary had been given a house key labeled to house L12 and after heading in the wrong direction twice, she managed to make her way towards her home. Her footfalls lulled her into the deep recesses of her thoughts. The longer she thought about it living alone felt so… lonely but this was her home. It’s always been like this… hadn’t it?

She paused in the middle of the sidewalk, twisting her key so that it twirled and then landed in her palm. Something feels wrong.

"I can’t go home." Clary announced her thoughts allowed in an attempt to give them solidarity. "I can’t go home but…" Her head turned to look down the street making the uncomfortable knot in her chest tightened. For a second or two breathing became difficult but as the wind passed over her she shivered and turned back towards her destination.

"I can’t really stay out here either." She needed to stop talking to herself.

Clary figured that in the process of going to her home she might be able to figure out why she thought she couldn’t. As she stood outside of her small place she realized that it had been a silly idea. Answers didn’t come that easily.

She stood there for a long time just staring at the house, in a dress that was not at all made for winter.

| wildcard – anywhere |

[ooc: Feel free to run into her anywhere during the above prompts. If you want to do something that isn’t listed hit me up on mizuyoko for plotting or send me a PM with your post and I’ll tag you. ]

wandering + coffee shop

[birdcostumes]

When he followed the girl in the sleek black dress into the coffee shop, Sam didn't really think much of it. There were all sorts in this town, and maybe she was just heading to a club or a party or something. The longer she lingered, staring at the menu, the odder the situation seemed to him, though. No coat, no purse, and no pockets in that thing, he was pretty sure.

"Uh, hey. Are you gonna order?" His tone wasn't rude or impatient, just curious. But if things checked out and she was just indecisive, he was going to skip line. Just saying.

sam wilson | various | open & closed

[birdcostumes]

1 - open - later in the day, main street or wherever you'd like to bump into him

Sam is one of the lucky ones, seeing as his friend caught him at the hospital before he could go wandering around getting himself into trouble. He has an idea of the kind of weirdness that's going on, but is determined to get the lay of the land for himself anyway.

After checking out their house, taking stock of what was in the spare room, and getting as settled as he was going to be at this point, he borrowed some money and headed downtown to see what kind of shopping was available. He's mostly looking for some simple clothes, since all he has to wear is his uniform. He left the wings and goggles at the house, since the uniform itself is conspicuous enough in this place, and he'd pitched the prison clothes he'd ended up with from his time on the Raft.

Even though his memory is still full of holes, Sam isn't shy about chatting up some of the people he sees out and about--locals and fellow amnesiacs alike. Not that he can really tell the difference until they start talking. Maybe you catch him in the general store picking up a toothbrush and other essentials. Maybe as he's trying to figure out where to find clothing that isn't completely terrible, or standing in line at the cafe or deli.


2 - closed - continuation of tdm thread with steve

"I don't know, man. I don't remember leaving with them." He doesn't really remember leaving, period; just that Steve had come to get everybody out. And then there had been... an accident. Had it happened while they were escaping? It's a lucky thing Steve is okay, and here. Hopefully he can help Sam shake away some of this brain fog.

He hops down from the ledge and heads over to the access door to wait.

"What happened, Steve?" he asks, when he emerges from the building. Sam gives him a once over, looking for signs of injury and evidence that he might have been caught up in the accident that had landed Sam here. "I don't remember much after you came for us. Are the others okay?" Not that he specifically knows who he's talking about--just that their teammates had been on the Raft, too.


3 - open - wildcard. come at me with something else if you'd like!

1

[toten_sie]

Just outside of the general store, staring up at the sign like it might explain the meaning of life to him or something as important, is an exceptionally large gentleman in an old-style military coat with a pack over his shoulder and a bandage visible on the side of his neck under the coat. Despite the fact that the weather isn't that cold, he's got gloves on and there's a nasty scar on his cheek and across the front of his face that looks like it's been there for a while. Sam walking out startles him a little, since he'd been concentrating so firmly on trying to remember something but despite the fact that he startles away from Sam and doesn't actually do any harm, he offers an apologetic little wave of his fingers as he settles again.

[bechdelpls]

one: the hospital;

Sarah is scared. She could make a declarative statement about that, if asked, but at the moment no one has. She remembers the accident, or thinks she does. She's certainly bruised and battered enough to have been in one.

And why does waking up somewhere strange with minor injuries seem so familiar?

Regardless, she's not leaving the hospital. Not without clearance from the doctors. But that doesn't mean she's not intrigued enough to leave her room to walk the halls barefoot in her hospital gown. She smoothes it down, feeling like the thing could pull a Marilyn Monroe on her at any moment, but not sure what that means any more than she's sure of where she is.

Curiousity is winning out. Slowly but surely.

two: around town;

She has a camera. She has a camera, and when she's holding it, looking through the viewfinder, framing the world, it feels so right that it makes her giddy.

As a result she's not exactly paying attention to what she photographs, not at first. Snapshot of a tree, snapshot of the chapel roof, snapshot of a garbage can, snapshot of - gasp - another tree. But as it starts to feel less instinctively right and more actively familiar, she slows down. Takes in the light, the shadows, the play of colors, twitches the shutter speed this way or that.

She's lining up a close shot of one of the notices with someone walking quickly away reflected in the window, when a shadow falls into the frame.

"Hey, would you mind just moving to my left for a second, if that's cool?"

two

[bulletfool]

He stops mid step and looks around when someone speaks, assuming that the words are directed at him. With his hands in his pockets and a slight hunch to his shoulders, Izumi supposes he doesn't appear too palatable for the camera, though the thought doesn't bother him overmuch. Minding where the lens is pointed, he backpedals a few steps without a fuss.

"Here?"

wanda maximoff | open

[magija]

.• hospital

[ The beeps remind her she's awake. It's like a siren ringing to alert her of the wires she's connected to, of the straps that keep her down tight against the bed. They say it's for safety. They've always told her that. But her safety or their own, that was always the question that brought her to reality.

She knows she's awake because in her dreams she isn't tied down. She's running through dark streets, worn hand-me-down shoes soaked from puddles, and her hand clutched tight within the fingers of a laughing boy. They run and run, fast as they're able, and they never stop —

— until she wakes.

Normally, it's the result of a nurse checking on her vitals, of an IV replacement, or something else that doesn't make a difference to her in this prison. But when her heavy eyelids spring open this time, it's to be told of a visitor. Visitors, when did she last have one? She can't remember.

But her groggy voice mutters as she gazes up to the ceiling. ] Let them in.

.• items reclaimed (1)

[ It's not the warmest weather to be wearing a dress, but once she gets her clothes back from the station, she changes in the building's restroom, feeling a sense of comfort in wearing them, like the caress of the cloth takes her away from this town, like there's something more she can't quite reach.

There's a slight chill on her bare legs, but the leather of the jacket satisfies her enough, tugging it tightly over her chest as she seats herself at the sidewalk's edge. Knees tucked in close, with her feet flat on the street, she watches the cars zip by, her thoughts roaming elsewhere.

Fingers dipping into her jacket pocket, she pulls out the photo — a man, a woman, and two children. She assumes the young girl is herself, the man and woman her parents, though the memories of such a time with a complete family don't seem to rise. The boy is a mystery too. But dark hair like hers, she imagines him a possible brother. Only not. Because how could she not remember a brother?

She studies the photo, long and silent, eyes focused even as people whisk by behind her on the sidewalk and light traffic continues on. The ongoing noise of it all, the breeze in her hair, none of it helps to surface the memories. ]

.• items reclaimed (2)

[ She doesn't know the hour. There's no watch on her, nothing to grant any indication of the time, except for the gradual darkening of the sky. Her feet shuffle slowly over the asphalt of the road, her gaze unfocused as she squints against the setting sun.

Breaths shallow, Wanda realizes she can't remember the last time she ate. No food, no memories, she comes to terms with just how empty she is today. Perhaps she should have stayed in the hospital. At least she had a purpose there, locked away and a danger to no one.

With shaking fingers, she staggers in her step, the focus of her sight shifting into a blur. Why can't she remember, why can't she remember. Even as she fights for the memories she's long since lost, nothing comes.

Nothing except the hard thud of the asphalt against her head as the weight of her body hits the road. ]

for logan.

[magija]

( continued from here )

[ Dangerous. It's difficult to judge what danger looks like. She never thought herself strong enough to harm anyone; at least she can't recall such a memory (not that there were many to pick from). And yet, she knows she could probably bring this entirely building down if she willed it.

With the slip of the claws, Wanda's lips part from a sharp intake of breath. She doesn't think he's out to kill her. Though she wouldn't judge him if that was his intention.

She merely stares at the way he studies them, like a curious creature who doesn't seem too aware of it himself. A sight like that is familiar. ]

So you're going to escape. [ Her focus gets lost on the claws for a long moment before they rise back up to his eyes. ] Are you going to fight your way out?

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret / various / open

[votively]

a:
[To say the weather is unkind would be an understatement. After realizing how preoccupied the hospital staff seemed to be, Luna borrowed some scrubs and slipped out of the hospital with little fuss, but even that couldn't have prepared her for the cold. All she could do was grit her teeth, though—she felt like she was supposed to be doing something, like she didn't have time to linger around. So she would endure the cold, at least until she got a better handle on her situation.

So, while Luna may look a little less new compared to some others, she still stands out. She's not very dressed for the weather, and she hurries along Main Street like she has somewhere to be. (And she does: she's heading to the police department.) Every once in a while, she'll pause in front of a shop window and look inside, as if searching for something. Maybe she'd see something that would jog her memory...]

b:
[The only thing she's able to reclaim from the police department is a single ring. The sheriff didn't have much to say about it before he was pulled away to deal with something else, leaving Luna confused and honestly kind of frustrated.

Outside, she ignores the cold and instead takes a moment to examine the ring. It's elaborate, but nothing about it jogs her memory. It did feel important, though... She wasn't sure why, but she felt like she needed to keep it.

She closes her hand around the ring and steels herself once more. To the housing district.

On the way, if she notices anyone else who seems like they might be new or lost, she'll make it a point to approach them.]

Hello. Are you alright?

[She was just as lost as them, but... Well, it made more sense for them to stick together, right?]

b. 8DDDDDDDDDDDD

[sirnyxalot]

[He was on his way to the gym when he notices her step out of the Sheriff's office. At first he doesn't remember who she is. He's still regaining memories, bits and pieces here and there. Sometimes every day, sometimes longer than that, but he's definitely losing some gaps that he doesn't even realize are there half the time.

It's the lost look on her face he picks up on first. He recognizes that. Went through that just a month ago himself. Were there more "accidents"? Concerned, he approaches her, fully intending to offer aid however he could, but his steps slow as he glances down to her hand.

That ring... his breath catches in his chest as another glimpse of memory slams into his head. A circle of spirits towering over him. The now unfortunately familiar burn of fire licking across his skin. He looks a little like he got slapped in the face as he stares at her.

The cost is a life: His... or hers.

Oh.

His scars itch and he inhales sharply.]

Lunafreya.

Ana Lewis | various locations | open

[seeyaduke]

The Hospital
Ana just blinked when the nurse told her there was an accident. Right now she didn't feel like she had been in an accident, she felt completely fine other than the world being a little bit fuzzy and out of focus. The nurse assured her that her head was fine, but as she was leaving the hospital in the flimsy gown, her fingers traced along the walls and railings as she walked. The fuzziness seemed to give her the sense that she might end up falling if she wasn't careful.

Her steps were purposeful however, almost measured in the silly slippers, and her eyes closed every so often as she attempted to place this as something familiar or to find something in her memories about who she was. Wasn't this kind of memory loss traumatic? Wasn't there something wrong? With no nurse around to answer her questions, she just moved towards the door where she could collect her things.

Wandering about before going to her house.

The world had come into focus once Ana had slid the black framed glasses over her nose, and she was glad. It made no sense to her that something so important would be kept here at the police station, but something told her that arguing with the deputy when she didn't know who the hell she was was probably quite a large mistake. Instead she had just smiled and murmured at him before she had changed into the outfit that was provided.

The outfit was problematic for her in many ways. It was a bit like the scrubs that the nurses wore, but there was a number stitched over her breast. Had she been a felon, in jail, something? The Deputy didn't mention it, but Ana ran her fingers across the line. If it wasn't so cold she would have simply worn the jumpsuit half-down and exposing her wife beater below. However, right now she didn't have the option, so Ana just walked quickly, keeping her head down and gripping the keys to her house in her fist.

Exploring the town
Now that Ana was dressed properly, even if the colors felt a bit wrong on her, she moved to explore the area around her. The house was surprisingly nice, even if it didn't feel familiar or have food in it, and that at least was something good. Of course, everything else was bothering her as she walked with purposeful steps towards the town and it's shops. Money was a question she had, because she didn't remember a job and there was no food in her house. Maybe she could get someone to give her a break being as she just woke up after having been in a coma.

Of course so had a lot of other people.


Still, she stopped in a bar among all of her other ventures into stores because she knows that there's at least one way to get something free and to get a little bit of socialization to see if anyone knows her. True to form, she's only there a few minutes before she's got a drink in her hand (whiskey, neat but not the good stuff. This burns when she drinks it and Ana's got the idea that it shouldn't burn in this way.) and she's taken a seat at the bar, watching the people around her. It's different that what she would have expected from such a small town, but in a way that she can't explain. There's a lot she can't explain and Ana drums her nails against the bar for a moment before she just looks to someone close by and asks softly, "have you been here long?"

That's not asking about the past right? The signs bother her, if she's honest, and it feels like something that she can't name. Still, Ana's not about to break the rules until she discovers whether or not she has the ability to back up her questioning with an ability to defend herself.

[comic_relief]

<sub>[At least once a day Jack catches himself thinking is this really how civilians live? It's the small things that get to him--snow shoveling, watching the mail man deliver papers in the morning, picking up groceries for dinner. Living under constant surveillance and censorship obviously doesn't quality, but the rest...

It's all so bizarrely, teeth-achingly normal, and the part that's hardest to parse is that he inexplicably has memories of taking part in all these normal little rituals like mowing the lawn and getting sour lime slushes at the corner store. Him. Someone who's never had a lawn to mow or free time to spend indulging at corner stores.

He doesn't recognize the version of himself who's done these things--innocent, ignorant of hardship--and he wants to take that boy by the shoulders and shake him. Ask him how do you have my face? how can you be this happy? Lost in the thought in the produce section of the grocery store, Jack is distractedly giving a melon the most intense stare down of its life when the store's automatic doors whoosh open.

A glance up has him doing a quick double take. For a second, something in her bearing and the glint of glasses sends his heart leaping--

But no. She's not who he hoped she was. She's someone unfamiliar. Except... there's a tickle in the back of his head, another of those nagging feelings that she's not as unfamiliar as he thinks. Another buried memory? In trying to figure it out, Jack might be staring a beat too long.]</sub>

Zuko | Avatar: The Last Airbender | ota

[honorboner]

Hospital

[ Zuko sits up in his hospital bed and winces, looking down at a bandage that has been wrapped around his midsection. That smarts. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and when his feet make contact with the floor he winces again because yep, one of his feet sure is bandaged too. Other than that, there are cuts and bruises here and there, but he seems to have come out of the accident mostly unscathed.

The accident...

He's fairly certain that a car was involved. At least the scattered images flitting through his brain seems to suggest as much. He's also pretty sure he wasn't alone in that accident, a fact that is profoundly disturbing because he can't tell for sure, and therefore can't remember if they all got out of it alive.

He stands up, feeling a little stiff but otherwise fine. There is some pain, but there is something familiar about that. As if he's used to hurting.

He spots a mirror and makes his way over to it, gasping when he sees his own face. At first glance, he thought the large scar was new, but as he reaches up to touch it... no. He's had that for years. A parting gift from his father.

His brow furrows as he comes up against a resistance inside, thick walls surrounding all other knowledge about how he got that scar, and why. He can't even remember his father's face. And yet he knows, with absolute certainty, that it was his father who burned him. It is, apparently, one of the few things he does know.

His breathing quickens, frustration boiling inside him because he can't remember anything and it's making him feel useless and stupid and he hates that feeling.

He turns away from the mirror to let out an angry roar, and with that... flames burst out of his mouth, the energy knocking him on his ass and leaving him wide-eyed and panting. ]

What was that?

On his way home after picking up his stuff

[ Turns out that apparently he has a really complicated fashion sense, he just can't remember it.

Layers upon layers of fabric, and also some kind of fancy gold thingie that he assumes is supposed to go in your hair. The problem here is that it doesn't seem like this whole thing was actually meant to put on on your own, which means that Zuko is currently making his way home with a robe hanging open to expose his upper body to the chilly winter air as he carries a bundle of fabric (and that gold thingie) through town.

At least he got some pants and shoes on, for a moment there he was starting to get really concerned.

Actually, he's still concerned. He can't wander around wearing this! Nobody else he has passed so far dresses this way, he's going to look ridiculous! ]

Would be great if I could remember if I have any money...

[ He mutters to himself, just as the gold hairpiece falls off his bundle of clothing and clatters to the ground. Great. Hopefully it hasn't been dented or anything, it seems pretty important. Maybe it's even valuable! ]

[keephimtalking]

[ Being a good Samaritan, Lantar immediately picks up the thing that weirdly dressed human kid just dropped to return it.

He regrets it immediately.

Okay, as someone who's grown up dirt-poor, Lantar isn't really sure what to make of the extremely fine piece of alien craftsmanship in his hands here. Actually, he's kind of intimidated. Maybe a bit scared. It feels like he's holding a solid ingot of pure Eezo and pure Eezo kind of needed special equipment to handle it. ]

You- dropped this.

[ Here, have your hairpiece shoved at you by a 7'6" mass of alien claws and teeth, Zuko. ]

Alec Lightwood | Around Town | Open

[angelic_archer]

Wandering around after finding his house

Coffee Shop

After being awed by the mini-castle and discussing a few things with Magnus, Alec figured that one of them needed to pick up supplies. They'd decided to split up even if that felt strange since it was obvious that they were in the honeymoon stage, but too much togetherness might actually hinder them regaining their memories. So Magnus went one direction and Alec went another.

Sitting down at the coffee shop, he spent a few minutes sitting at one of the tables, staring at the menu while trying to figure out what he used to order. Eventually, he'd either realize what the usual was or choose something randomly and live with the consequences.

Grocery Shopping

It was weird that there had been everything someone needed already set up in the house except food. Well, it made sense in one way since the food could spoil but Alec was surprised that there weren't a few cans of something that'd last for months, if not years, sitting in the pantry. Especially if they'd just moved into the house. Maybe they'd just bought the castle and hadn't had time to shop.

Deciding on that solution, he wandered the store, looking for things that could be thrown together to make meals. For some reason he had the strange feeling that he was used to taking random bits of things that shouldn't taste good together and being forced to make a meal out of them. Looking down at the contents of his cart seemed to confirm that assumption. Multiple cans of tomato soup, some mangoes, an assortment of tea, a bag of coffee.

Not enough to make a meal but Alec kept staring at the shelves like they were completely foreign to him. He had been grocery shopping before... he assumed.

Wild Card

(Let me know if you need any details about his canon.)