bumfuckidaho | TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

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TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

TEST DRIVE MEME

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 – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

option one
WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two
INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three
PTA BAKE SALE

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The school PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined, not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or maybe you were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, aren't they? Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

option four
ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople in a text-based format instead!

( a few notes )

Welcome to our third test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

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N-No no - like alien alien. X-Files. Spock. [The slightest exhale.] You... probably don't know what those are. Never mind.

[She gestures towards herself.] I'm human too. A hundred percent.

[ Wow. Cassian is impressed, honestly; anyone who commands that amount of subconscious respect is good at what they do, and honestly there is something that feels really good and heartwarming that Bail's daughter is the one all this is form. Not that Cassian had the slightest hand in that at all, really, but still.

Cassian hasn't put much thought into 'what happens after' in regards to Wayward Pines. It depends on far too many factors he doesn't feel he has much of a handle on. People who have homes and lives to go to should definitely be able to get back to them, if all goes well.

People like him? That's a little more complicated. Into a box it goes. ]

There is, but if we're going tonight I'm bringing Jyn. [ Or at the very least inviting her. ] After all this I definitely need one. Or several.

"I hate deserts." Plop. One more basket tipped inside but it looks dangerously full now and Jyn shifts the last one in her arms as if debated carrying it as is.

"I've still got sand in my hair from the beach." Her disheveled hair halos out around her as she shakes her head like a lost puppy dog. She doesn't remember why she was even at the beach. Which is annoying. But she still has sand in her boots and her pants and, she swears, in her hair every time she showers.

"We need another bag."

[ He grins. ] Okay. I don't know if I'm a hundred percent, but I'm enough to classify.

[ Who knows who did what with who, beyond a few generations back? ALSO, who really cares? ...Not Poe, obviously. ] And I have no idea what X-Files or Spock are, but that might just be.

[ A gesture toward his head. Memories. ]

[ ~~Not complicated, you are both going with Poe, it is settled, done. You get to live in the future now.~~

Poe nods, liking this plan. ] And Finn. I don't know if that guy has ever been to a bar.

[ Clearly this needs to be addressed.

And there it is again, Poe's shit-eating reckless-pilot grin.] I can always use one or several.

[She mouths an oh and nods her head with understanding. The whole fuzzy head thing. Right.]

...Do you have TV in space? Even if you do - you might not get our reruns.

New Save File 1 is off to a cracking head start. After she had checked out from the hospital perhaps a tad more violently than necessary, and shucked off her open-back gown for a grotty flannel and jeans combo repurposed from a skip, Clarissa had decided upon a walk to attempt to un-clear her head. And maybe try and learn a damn thing about her situation while she's at it.

She'd been drawn here. Something about the height of the trees had felt so inviting. Walking bare foot, Clarissa can feel every brittle snap of twigs and brush of damp foliage against her soles and ankles, and it feels...totally alien. The Earthy smell of the woods floods her mind as it does her lungs and awakens synapses that are still sluggish with the clinging remnants of concussion. Her irritatingly unhelpful conclusion? Not a single thing about this is familiar.

A branch fractures underfoot and Clarissa feels something move too quickly and too coincidentally in her peripherals. Crouching slowly, she draws a rock from the tangle of weeds below, ignoring the skitter of sensory information as the tendons in her fingers flex around it. You don't need that.

Curling the stone behind her back, she takes a slow step in direction of the movement.

"It's rude to spy," she offers aloud to the woods at large. "Loitering... People might think you were up to something. Can I join?"

I'm certain you'll do just fine, son. You know your way around a hammer, do you?

Ignoring his suggestions, Jyn selects one with pink frosting, the same one the little boy bought earlier. She sets her tea down to peel back some of the paper, but instead of taking a bite, she swipes off some of the icing to pop in her mouth.

"I'm a worlds travel, Cassian. World traveler." That's weird, why did she make it plural? "I feel good about spices."

Poe loops the full bag over one wrist and opens another. "Beach?"

Even from here, the tops of the cliffs are visible around them. "...Where's the beach? I mean, not that I'd ask you to go back."

Don't want to get sand in more uncomfortable places.

That one? Is pink lemonade - a little tart and a lot sweet. She's eating one, though (frosting first or not) and Cassian can relax a little. He'll have to figure out what to make for dinner, he realizes. Pasta, maybe? Something substantial.

He's not sure what he's going to do when evening comes and Jyn will want to be in her own space (probably) but he knows it's going to be an issue. In his own head, at the very least.

He'll worry about it then. "Well, good to know. Wouldn't want to assume anything." Tiny, tiny smile!

[ Cassian chuckles a little. ] Yeah and this one would be a good starting place, honestly. Not much really happens in it. Other than drinking. [ A pause. ] And the guy who is really into hockey.

[ Sign Cassian up for the Protect Finn at All Costs Club, please. He'll be vice president under Poe. ]

There's one other person...I don't think he's one of us. [ Tilting his head and considering. ] His name is Nyx, and he's good people. [ And that about rounds out the list of people Cassian Andor trusts. ]

Well, well, if Mr. Rumlow was agreeable and would be willing to take in some of the more energetic students that would need a bit of stability, exercise and enough hard-nosed tactics to keep them in line, he thought it was a worthwhile endeavor to propose to the support staff. He was also given the impression that keeping Rumlow close or at least on side would be beneficial for both of them, even if it was to keep an eye on one another's business now and again.

"If you're agreeable, I will propose the idea to some of the other members of the teaching staff and from there, we can draw up a proposal," he remarked, tucking his hands into his pockets. This was a business transaction now it seemed, even if it were also clear that they were taking stalk of each other. "However, for this to work, I would also like your input on what you need to make this succeed."

A give and take. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. In the end, he knew if he asked something of Rumlow, he was given the impression that it would be done. Good man.

Jyn opens her mouth to answer and finds herself without an answer, forehead wrinkling in irritated confusion. Her mouth closes and she takes a long moment before answering, focusing on the task, literally, at hand.

She drops the last basket in the new bag before crouching down to scoop up the now mangled mess of the one she'd kicked at him and dump that in the bag as well.

"I'll let you know when I find it again."

You can't erase my memories and I also carry classified information.
If you were to tell someone who could keep a secret, I'd be your best bet.

[A rare smile touches her lips, her blue eyes looking up at him with amusement.]

I'm interested in your end goal. If it's pure chaos or something more.

[Chaos might be fun to watch. She doesn't particularly care for emotional squabbles, it isn't something that she understands. Emotions were never Enis's strong suite.]

True. I mean whatever I'm missing can't be too bad. Or so I'm hoping.

Enis felt the pull to her body but only distantly. The whirling sound echoed louder in her ear than it had moments before, reverberating through her head as if commanding her basic systems to move. Her blue eyes flashed yellow as lines of data were pushed forward.

Processing...

It was too slow. Enis felt the function began and abruptly stopped it. She didn't know why only that it'd mean death for more than just those standing around her. Her thoughts worked quickly as she was pulled back, her thin frame offering no resistance to the woman who was holding her up.

She was skilled at following directions.

Enis steadied her breathing as they moved backwards. When she spoke her voice was soft, not wanting to expand her throat against the gleaming blade that pressed ominously against her pale neck. "You have my help." She spoke quickly but clearly. "If you don't relax your knife then neither of us might make it out of here." Her words were a little cryptic and Enis wouldn't have been able to elaborate even if she had the time or inclination too.

And that means?

You'd think they'd have one of those support groups around town for people feeling like this.

"I thought pretty well. This isn't the first time I've heard screams in the woods." He remembers that day. He had bruises for weeks from the hailstorm he'd end up running through. "I've never seen what makes them, but sometimes you can hear them clear across town."

Nyx squints up at the treetops. "Come to think of it...I don't think I've ever made it this far without being stopped, either."

"Then you'll feel right at home." There's a bitter note to his tone.

"If you're looking for animals your best bet is probably going to be the farm." Nyx gestures down the street vaguely southwest from where they're standing. "I leave my chocobo there since I don't have room for it in my house.

I can show you?"

Jyn decides suddenly that she likes the taste of pink lemonade, scooping another dollop of frosting in her mouth with her finger. Eventually she will get to the cake itself, but for now: sugar.

If he tells her this is also colored with beet root she will shove it in his face.

"Why do you want to know what kind of food I like?"

Let's just say some of us definitely aren't from around here.

ONE ✪ INCONVENIENCES

Waking up without a clue of where you are, or who the hell you think you are to be hanging around someplace like this in the first place (trees? Did she get rich enough to relocate to...to... Wait. To where? From where, even? What is it about the greenery and the open sky that solicits a faint impression of wealth?) has gotta make even the preachiest non-smoker crave a long, nerve-calming drag of nicotine. Or so Clarissa assumes. She wouldn't know: she's been a casual smoker since she was a teen. A singular memory trail that tails off peskily just where it starts to get good. Images of a scruffy, carefree kid loitering on corners and laughing with friends—fledgling smoke addicts the lot of them, struggling to look cool and not cough up their fags. But the streets themselves are dull and featureless and blobby and grey, and the details on any faces diffuse like smoke the second Clarissa turns her mind's eye too sharply in their direction...

Shit, she needs a cigarette.

The local corner store looked unassuming enough: quiet, with a mild-mannered clerk polishing the dust from the bottles of spirits locked behind the counter. Not many customers around this time of afternoon, apparently. A casual wander around both ends of the aisle reveals three. Nothing she should be concerned about...normally. She can feel them tense and scoot uncomfortably out of her way as she moves past, pretending to pour over the selection of magazines about music and woodcutting while taking careful note of the way their eyes glance off of her bare and mud-caked feet. The ripped bottoms of her too-big jeans, the dirty flannel shirt. The clerk's smile is particularly guarded as she approaches the till. Clarissa smiles back, cursing inwardly. No way was this bastard going to let any high-value products touch her hands or the counter without seeing some cold hard cash first. Attempting to lift while looking like a homeless person was a tad of an oversight.

After confidently selecting "her" brand from the entirely unfamiliar selection, she makes the usual charade of reaching for her wallet...then patting down her sides, her shirt, before turning sheepishly to the closest customer and holding up her palms with a grin.

"Whoops, haha...! Think I left my wallet in my better pair of pants. Hate to ask there, mate, but can you spot me a couple coins? If you jot your number down for me and I'll happily pay you back."

TWO ✪ BAKING BADDIES

Neighbourhood bake sales are easier pickings. Being back in her own clothes certainly helps (one espionage mission back to the hospital later), but the open space gives Clarissa greater freedom to move between the stalls, dropping a few vacant pleasantries about, like, how clear the sky is. For some reason, that sort of stock line seemed to gather the same pleasant responses. "Ohh I know, it would have been such a shame had it been to rain today of all days. It's a good thing the forecast was off the mark this time around..." Following up with questions about what exactly the forecast was or what it was for, however, was a less successful line of interrogation. That brought a look of confusion to their faces that was grating for reasons Clarissa couldn't exactly place. But being chatty and quick fingered enough meant she could hang out at one table before passing onto the next with fresh new goods in hand without anyone realising she hadn't dropped so much as a single coin. Minus, of course, the cursory few she'd "thoughtfully" spared for one of the donation pots, having picked them up while wandering the streets earlier. Whatever the denominations here were. Come to think of it, the local currency...seems like a slightly extreme thing to have forgotten. Was amnesia normally so thorough with wiping the slate?

She's watching the folks that show up with utmost attention, scrutinising newcomers from over the dusted top of a very generous helping of victoria sponge, taking mental notes of how the conversation around her ebbs the moment certain topics come up. Upon spying such a jilted conversation, Clarissa nods and lifts her handsome slice of cake.

"Best in town, amirite? Speaking of. You're looking kinda new there, stranger. Think you can help another outer-towner out? Just having some problems...settling in."

THREE ✪ WILDCARD!!
[Your call to hit Clarissa up however/wherever you like cuz ~~I'm too sleep deprived to figure out more prompts.~~]

Edited 2017-04-20 03:24 (UTC)

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