pineslog | (april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

INTRODUCTION LOG

waking up

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed. You're sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember getting, not to mention the vaguely-healed remnants of any wounds you might've had before.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog if not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

Whether or not the room's empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in looking a bit tired and worn at the edges, like a blurred photograph. They take your vitals and ask your name and anything else you might remember with an air of exhausted distraction about them, and maybe even eye your bed with a look of vacant yearning for a moment before managing to rouse themselves again. Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma “from the accident”. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave... though it might be awhile. Then you'll be left alone. The hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You can even leave your room without much fuss - whichever doctor or nurse intercepts you gets called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

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

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

heading outside

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

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and lightly dusted in snow. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Pedestrians spare you glances, some wary and some concerned.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize and one that you might: Wayward Pines Police Department. Whether you asked for yourself or simply overheard, you've likely caught wind by now that all of your earthly possessions now lie with the Sheriff until you see fit to claim them.

Might as well head that way, right?

items reclaimed

So you've visited the Wayward Pines Police Department and reclaimed... well. Most of your stuff, anyway, though you can't quite remember what's missing, and asking the sheriff only gets you a harried look and a form to fill out if you have any concerns. Best to put it out of mind, as you head down the steps toward the Main Street sidewalk. At the very least, pedestrians have stopped looking at you like you're sick or crazy. (Then again, depending on what you're wearing, maybe it's gotten worse.)

The sheriff also forked over what looks like the key to a house ("A cozy place to stay while you're here in town."), and a general direction to start looking for the house that key belongs to, the sheriff pulled away to deal with some other pressing issue before he could give you more detailed instructions. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in. If you can even find it, that is.

Or you could stick around Main Street and sight-see a little. Also a perfectly viable option. Hell, maybe it'll jog your memory a little. A few of the shops do feel inexplicably familiar...

MOD NOTES

Welcome to the third newbie mingle log!

This log is meant to cover characters' first day in Wayward Pines. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although the first couple of false Wayward Pines memories might begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the day wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

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

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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Edited 2017-04-01 04:30 (UTC)

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... ]

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. )

( 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. )

_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. )

Edited 2017-04-02 02:10 (UTC)

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? )

( 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? )

[ He blinks at her, as the idea that he'd be an orderly is so alien to him. For... some reason? Even outside of this particular place, orderlies feel like someone to be avoided, not something to be. Which is why, after a moment of confusion, he holds a finger to his lips and tilts his head towards the hallway that he'd just checked to be empty.

So... leaving. Definitely leaving. ]

( 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.

( 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?

(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 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. ]

( 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. )

( 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?

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.

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?

[ 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.

( and here goes nothing. ) I'm actually looking for my house. ( she chuckles if only to dilute the embarrassment she feels for not remember something that's supposed to be important. that accident must have been worse than she thought. ) Silly, I know, but I was just discharged from the hospital ( not entirely true, but, in retrospect, she probably shouldn't have left prematurely. ) but things are still feeling a little hazy.

( 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? )

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

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

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

(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.

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.

[ He turns around sharply, confronted with the scowling expression of a girl h--

He teaches. She's not in the classroom of his memory, but she fits the space. He knows her. Her thinks. He can't come up with a single cogent means of supporting that thought, but it feels right. ]

Ah. Just. A speech, sort of, if you want to call that a speech. A thing I delivered in a classroom. Should you be in a bar? Are you old enough to be in a bar? I don't know what local law says about kids in places that serve alcohol.

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? ]

Edited 2017-04-03 00:20 (UTC)

[ 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.

Edited 2017-04-03 00:27 (UTC)

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Page 1 of 24

(april intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

sam seaborn | various locations | open

Randel Oland ✄ Various Locations ✄ OPEN

azula 🔥 pick your poison » open

four!

pepper potts ▪️ mcu ▪️ open!

adora ➞ various locations ➞ open

waking up!

no subject

three.

hospital.

Lorna Dane | various locations | open

rhiannon allan - open!

home sweet nope

2

one

Sissel | OTA

rogue | various | open + closed

no subject

outside!

TEA SHOP

NONE OF THE ABOVE

Main Street

no subject

Chase Collins | The Covenant

no subject