(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

[unforgivably]

I used to mind. Emphatically. Easily annoyed. But, I've mellowed. Grown as a person. Made my mistakes. Yada, yada. [ The life history of Damon Salvatore, ladies and gentlemen. ] So. Digress away. I know things about you, town things. If you don't. Occupation. Living situation. If you want any answers. Beat your memories to the punch.

[fidelis]

Gotten numb via exposure. Same thing.

[ Sam quirks an eyebrow, ever more comfortable with the thought of Damon as a friend. ] Occupation is teacher, I know that much. Living situation is...

[ Is Chase. ] Complicated. How complicated is it?

[unforgivably]

Desensitization.

[ It happens anywhere. Especially here. ]

Your sister died, left you her kid. He's a little snot, but he's talented if he puts his mind to it. You believe in the kid, and he does typical teenager-y things. As far as I know, it's you and him against the world. [ Or, that was described to him once. ] Sorry. About your sister. [ Because -- if she was real he'd be sorry? And he bluntly let the guy know about her. ] He gives you a hard time. You care more. And the cycle goes on.

[fidelis]

[ For a few long seconds, Sam just drinks. Yeah, that sounds right. It sounds right at home with the exchange that he and Chase had before Sam slipped out to go to a bar. Sam tries, Chase lies, around they go again. ]

I need another drink.

[unforgivably]

On me. [ He claps a hand to Sam's back and puts his other hand up. Two fingers. He's having one, too. ]

It comes back. it's the nature of these head injuries. You lose it. Then you gain it all back. Chase is lucky he didn't lose you. [ Damon thinks. ]

[fidelis]

I wonder if he'd agree with that. [ Sam massages the bridge of his nose, feeling the ghost of a headache and hoping it isn't a sign of things to come. ] Do teenage boys usually agree with that sort of thing? I feel like I never actively wanted my guardians to, y'know.

[ Die. ]

[unforgivably]

... I think teenagers think they want to take care of themselves, but when it comes down to the responsibilities and the pressure of actually being their own guardians, most would probably not wish death on theirs. [ That he knows. ] I knew a kid, he ended up on his own, early, early on. Useless parental figure I hit on once, dad out of the picture. And, it was -- hard. Being the sole breadwinner-house-owner. I don't think Chase would want that.

[fidelis]

[ Sam stares at him in silence for several seconds, and when he speaks, it's quietly. ]

Did I know that about you?

[unforgivably]

Well, Sam, we don't know everything about one another. [ But, he does realize he's broken a rule. Maybe because he'd kept it vague, then it didn't count. ] He's not here, if that's what you're asking. Anymore. [ Or, ever. But, it's possible he "moved away," right? If they have memories of people moving here, then people could have moved away. ] And, he made something of himself, so, guess it all goes to show, it's not the trials you go through, but how you handle them. [ Vampire hating, in this case. Matt Donovan had come a long way. Most days that brought with it a mixed bag. ]