[ People forget things, right? Noah knows that's not anything unusual, not every memory is stored and saved forever (he's sure he learned something in school about that, but whenever he tries to search those parts of his brain, it's like hitting a brick wall. Nothing.). Besides, all the nurses in the hospital kept going on and on about some accident, so he figures that whatever pieces might be missing had to be the result of something knocking him in the head -- though, he doesn't feel any kind of soreness that would indicate he was even in an accident, he doesn't even know what kind of accident he was involved in, every questiont that he'd asked was answered by way of pretty words in soothing tones that did absolutely nothing to jog his memory.
Oh well. Maybe he'd catch a glimpse of it on the news. Accidents were usually reported on, right? Someone had to know something.
There's something... strange about the town. It both feels vaguely familiar -- like a place that could have lived when he was younger, too young to have any concrete memories of. -- and yet completey new and somewhat out of place. Like something real, but not all at the same time.
Or maybe he's still recovering from the "accident".
It doesn't take long for Noah to come across an ominous sign plastered in the window of a small sandwich shop only a few blocks from the Sherrif's office -- and despite just how little sense it made that the Sherrif had his things, but couldn't tell him much more about the "Accident", Noah didn't question it. There were a lot of things that were weird, but every time that he goes to ask about them, he gets the runaround. Stopping just short of the door, his eyes catch on a khaki colored poster in the front window and he mouths the words as he reads them.
The words are another thing that he feels like he both knows by heart, and yet has never read before.
Do not leave. (Okay. That's a little weird.) Do not discuss the past. (That's... a little more weird.) Do not discuss your life before. (That sends a cold chill through Noah, the edges of his vision becoming fuzzy, as though he were bordering right on the edge of beingt here and not.) Always answer the phone if it rings (Not as weird, but okay. He could do that.) Work hard, be happy, and enjoy your life in Wayward Pines
Looking around a few times, he catches the attention of someone walking by on the sidewalk. ]
Uh.. Hi. Sorry, but do you have any clue what all this is supposed to mean?
[ He gives a quick motion with his head to the sign in question.]
( three: you done hecked up )
[ Disturbing the peace? Disturbing the peace?!
Noah hadn't been doing anything except asking his neighbor a few questions. He wanted to know how he got here (because the talk of some "Accident" wasn't cutting it anymore.), he wanted to know how to get out of here, he wanted to know why this place felt both like home and yet like somewhere he'd never been before. He should have saw it all coming, though. The way that his neighbor continued to look over his shoulder, or fidget uncomfortably the longer that Noah prodded him about some other life that he just knows he has. This wasn't it. There was more, he'd come from somewhere else, he'd known other people, even if he couldn't remember anything more than vague outlines of bodies and places.
He'd hardly gotten his entire barrage of questions out before he'd been hauled off in handcuffs, processed and then thrown into a dingy jail cell. ]
You didn't even tell me what I did! Hello?! You can't just lock me in here without any explanation! [ Right? The laws in this town were backwards as far as he could tell, maybe they very well could just throw people in jail for absolutely nothing. It wouldn't have been the weirdest thing he's experienced since arriving.
"Waking up". "Recovering". Whatever they want to call it.
Turning on his heels, he drops to take a seat on a slab of concrete jutting out from the wall -- what he assumes is supposed to act as the worlds most uncomfortabe bench. -- wedging himself into the corner and crossing his arms over his chest tightly. It's then that he notices someone else and he perks up slightly. At least he's not stuck in this place alone all night. ]
"Disturbing the peace", too?
( four: on the network )
[ There's a lot of silence and obvious fumbling with the reciever on the other end of the line, quiet curses and the sounds of buttons being accidentally pressed. He still hasn't quite gotten the hang of this thing yet. Was it pound-megaphone-pound? pound-pound-megaphone?
Noah Czerny | The Raven Cycle
[ People forget things, right? Noah knows that's not anything unusual, not every memory is stored and saved forever (he's sure he learned something in school about that, but whenever he tries to search those parts of his brain, it's like hitting a brick wall. Nothing.). Besides, all the nurses in the hospital kept going on and on about some accident, so he figures that whatever pieces might be missing had to be the result of something knocking him in the head -- though, he doesn't feel any kind of soreness that would indicate he was even in an accident, he doesn't even know what kind of accident he was involved in, every questiont that he'd asked was answered by way of pretty words in soothing tones that did absolutely nothing to jog his memory.
Oh well. Maybe he'd catch a glimpse of it on the news. Accidents were usually reported on, right? Someone had to know something.
There's something... strange about the town. It both feels vaguely familiar -- like a place that could have lived when he was younger, too young to have any concrete memories of. -- and yet completey new and somewhat out of place. Like something real, but not all at the same time.
Or maybe he's still recovering from the "accident".
It doesn't take long for Noah to come across an ominous sign plastered in the window of a small sandwich shop only a few blocks from the Sherrif's office -- and despite just how little sense it made that the Sherrif had his things, but couldn't tell him much more about the "Accident", Noah didn't question it. There were a lot of things that were weird, but every time that he goes to ask about them, he gets the runaround. Stopping just short of the door, his eyes catch on a khaki colored poster in the front window and he mouths the words as he reads them.
The words are another thing that he feels like he both knows by heart, and yet has never read before.
Do not leave. (Okay. That's a little weird.)
Do not discuss the past. (That's... a little more weird.)
Do not discuss your life before. (That sends a cold chill through Noah, the edges of his vision becoming fuzzy, as though he were bordering right on the edge of beingt here and not.)
Always answer the phone if it rings (Not as weird, but okay. He could do that.)
Work hard, be happy, and enjoy your life in Wayward Pines
Looking around a few times, he catches the attention of someone walking by on the sidewalk. ]
Uh.. Hi. Sorry, but do you have any clue what all this is supposed to mean?
[ He gives a quick motion with his head to the sign in question.]
( three: you done hecked up )
[ Disturbing the peace? Disturbing the peace?!
Noah hadn't been doing anything except asking his neighbor a few questions. He wanted to know how he got here (because the talk of some "Accident" wasn't cutting it anymore.), he wanted to know how to get out of here, he wanted to know why this place felt both like home and yet like somewhere he'd never been before. He should have saw it all coming, though. The way that his neighbor continued to look over his shoulder, or fidget uncomfortably the longer that Noah prodded him about some other life that he just knows he has. This wasn't it. There was more, he'd come from somewhere else, he'd known other people, even if he couldn't remember anything more than vague outlines of bodies and places.
He'd hardly gotten his entire barrage of questions out before he'd been hauled off in handcuffs, processed and then thrown into a dingy jail cell. ]
You didn't even tell me what I did! Hello?! You can't just lock me in here without any explanation! [ Right? The laws in this town were backwards as far as he could tell, maybe they very well could just throw people in jail for absolutely nothing. It wouldn't have been the weirdest thing he's experienced since arriving.
"Waking up". "Recovering". Whatever they want to call it.
Turning on his heels, he drops to take a seat on a slab of concrete jutting out from the wall -- what he assumes is supposed to act as the worlds most uncomfortabe bench. -- wedging himself into the corner and crossing his arms over his chest tightly. It's then that he notices someone else and he perks up slightly. At least he's not stuck in this place alone all night. ]
"Disturbing the peace", too?
( four: on the network )
[ There's a lot of silence and obvious fumbling with the reciever on the other end of the line, quiet curses and the sounds of buttons being accidentally pressed. He still hasn't quite gotten the hang of this thing yet. Was it pound-megaphone-pound? pound-pound-megaphone?
Eventually, a voice comes on the line. ]
Hello? Is this even working? How do I--
[ More fumbling and the message ends abruptly. ]