#stranded open

Death was the only possibility. Despite what people might assume James considered himself an optimist, if only because he knew expecting the worst was the same as asking for it. When problems arose he imagined the best outcome and strived for it-- often achieving something at least close to what he had envisioned. But there was optimism and then there was idealism, the impractical and impossible. To fall from such a height would kill most people with the rocks and waves below presumably killing whoever survived. So when he awoke to the sounds of waves he thought that must be what was happening, but his cheek was pressed firmly against sand and a breeze blew through his curls. 

He could walk-- like a baby deer sure, his feet sinking in the loose sand but he managed to make his way to a visage he saw in the distance. At first he thought it was a limestone stack, but as he got closer he realized it was a ship. James walked right up to it, pressing his hand against it. His hand felt along the splintered wood and rough barnacles, left thinking only why? His hand still pressed against the ship, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see a figure approaching. 

James turned, rolling his shoulders back to look more presentable. Though his clothes and shoes were soaked and now that he thought about it he probably had seaweed and shells in his hair. Maybe even a crab or two. God what was going on? But he wasn’t ready to admit how lost he was, how vulnerable he was. So instead he called to the figure, his voice hoarse, “what is the name of this ship?” He cleared his throat, then spoke again, though his voice was softer. “Does it even have a name?”

Near the Pit

Curiosity was one of two reasons Dani ever left their spot by the trees (the other being worry about their family) and today was no exception. They’d caught the scent of burning on the wind which sent the fire inside of them haywire at the chance to maybe - finally be let out. Day to day surviving had required more use of their gift but since they’d come onto the beach, they’d rarely had an excuse to use it. 

There was some disappointment to find their nose had led them to a pit but it was good to know that fires did have somewhere safe to be if needed. They didn’t want to cause alarm by using the materials here if it was something that was for warning or something so they wandered a little further towards the shore. They’d felt kind of useless as everyone settled in but maybe….food-gathering wouldn’t be frowned upon?

Everyone liked fish, right?

It’d been quite some time since they’d come across water like this but it didn’t take long to find a long stick along the forest line, whittle away the smaller branches, and make a point with the right kind of rocks. Then it was just a matter of wading into the water and being very still.

Or so they’d thought.

Once upon a time, they’d been good at this, but they’d had to make two new spears after literally burning their way through the first two out of sheer frustration. Eventually, they made contact and couldn’t help the excited yell that slipped out as they raised both hands in celebration … only to see the movement send the fish right back into the water.

Sonofabitch.

Their face fell and it was about that time they realized they had company. Figures. Blowing out an exhale, they just pushed their hair out of their face and readied themselves to try again. Unless… “...any help to give?” Dani’s eyebrows rose along with their hopes as they waited for some wisdom.

‘ thank you for being here ... ’

The shinning light of the day has passed, gone are the shadows of evening. The dry jungle leaves and bamboo that had been collected earlier today are lit and the flames rise boldly against the black sky. It's not before long where the fire grows great, bright, and big. As Phoebe looks around the circle that has formed - those who are left - their skin glows red, orange and gold. Every eye reflects the flickering, each iris containing a small picture of the bonfire before them. Yet, as peaceful as this may seem, the air is tense and somber once Matthew finishes his speech that’s a little to rich for Phoebe’s taste. 

In another universe, Phoebe hopes she is truly nice to Matthew. She knows he doesn't deserve whatever wrath is tossed his way, but there's something about him ... Perhaphs the way he cannot admit defeat? Or try to keep everything perfect in the land of the lost? It doesn't sit right with her. She doesn't understand it. ❛ Matthew, ❜ She greets, ❛ Where’s Mark, Luke, and John? ❜ A tasteless joke with her arms crossed - clearly not here to keep the conversation she commences going, but it allows at least a small smile to be slipped upon her lips. It’s gone, though. Quickly. The words she says next comes as a whisper, even a little bit of warning, seeing as they know what they know when it comes to the island. This bonfire was nice, sure. Eventually ... Everyone will know the darkness that seeps into this island. ❛ Prayin’ won’t be enough, you know that. ❜

open starter (1/3)

Fishing had been a tricky thing for Leon after his earth attunement manifested itself. Water, in general, became a tricky thing. He’d found the hard way that getting into bodies of water was not the best of ideas. The finishing net he’d built out of pieces of seatbelts from the plane made the process of getting food from the ocean considerably less risky than the makeshift spear he had before. He could just leave the fishing net in place and after a while return to find what he’d caught.

Today was a good day. Two large dolphinfish. And while Leon wasn’t a particularly spiritual person in regards to his own life or that of others -human or otherwise-, he usually let a thought of gratitude pass through his mind about the creatures he hunted or fished, appreciation for the food he could consume to nurture himself, to keep on living.

After getting his catch of the day he prepared the fishes for cooking on a small fire he set up close to the Leander, by use of the trusty and rudimentary method of a long, spear-like stick above the fire. He had some herbs he’d been gifted by those working at the farm and could more or less season the fish. So the builder sat there by his fire, eating, making more portions to spare to give around the other people on North Beach. Chewing a chunk of his meal, he took notice of someone just a few meters away. Silently, he pointed towards the fire and the fishes cooking there before he beckoned for them to approach to get something to eat as well.

From his vantage point, Frank can see the mad scramble on the beach from the survivors. New and old alike, it seems, spotting familiar faces among the crowd. He hastens his way down the edge of one of the cliffs, his feet landing in the water of the North Beach with a splash. Tamyra is already gone, he isn’t sure where, but somewhere, he assumes. Instead, he heads into the water, dragging out a person scrambling to find their footing against the heaving waves. “It’s alright, you can stand now,” he soothes, helping them settle onto the sand.

He releases them once they are sitting, looking them over with evident concern. “Are you hurt? Salt water won’t have been good on any wounds you have.” His medical training is... limited to the few classes he took, but he thinks he knows enough to wing anything minor. “I can take you to someone who will help you.” Tomas, he nearly suggests, but bites his tongue with a grimace. He’s saved from responding as a cry echoes across the beach, louder in this tiny corner of the North Beach. Too quiet to pinpoint it’s location over the buzzing in his ears and the crashing waves.