Fantasy The Island - A stranded RP

[Uncultured]

The clouds were beautiful, and they were stunning, a clear white that seemed almost too vivid and clean to be created by nature itself, and even though they seemed painted onto the canvas that was the sky they were the most real things the captain ever saw these days, when he looked upon them he became more uplifted than he ever had felt in his years attending church with his religious ex wife or the time he spent at the VA listening to the motivational speakers and preachers who visited to fulfill their pro-bono assignments, because this view was real, more real than any word spoken from the pulpit of a self proclaimed holy man or a motivational speaker sent to pacify the anger of the injured vets who stewed in the underfunded veteran hospitals, for unlike those things, this was real and it was his.


The clouds and the sea from above, if one thing could be said for them, it was that they were profound. No matter how many times Captain Widdiker saw the world from thirty thousand feet he was still awed by its beauty, by its purity and by its danger, for one wrong slip, one moving part failure, one spark, could send the entire plane down towards the ocean at a pace of four hundred miles an hour to be pulverized on the surface of the ocean. It was a sobering thought, the kind that the captain often thought of while sitting drunker than a sailor at a bar stool in any number of cities that weren't his own. The captain had done so the night before the flight, the night before he was scheduled to transport over one hundred people across the ocean in a plane moving four hundred miles per hour he had been at a bar, and he had drunk his weight in liquor before passing out at his hotel. It would be debatable if he were fit to drive a taxi in his state, but he had done it before, more times than he was willing to count, and he choked back a chuckle as he thought about the pathetic and selfish nature of his actions, for he had grown so used to them that they had become amusing in a self depreciating sort of way. No matter how much the captain enjoyed flying, the one thing he really enjoyed was drinking.


In contrast to the old alcoholic pilot who sat with his eyes half shut at the controls his co pilot was some rookie, some clean coat type, the kind that came in every day with his shirt ironed and his top button tucked in its hole even if no one could see it underneath his tie. He would change though, with time they always did, the twenty year veteran had seen it all before, hell, it had happened to him. The biggest reason why the captain didn't like his rookie co pilot was just how much he reminded the captain of himself. There had been a time when he had been the rookie with under five hundred paid hours in the air. It was like looking in a mirror every time his saw the kids clean cut face.


Before the captain could continue his hungover thoughts a beeping began to emit from the console of the plane, the rookie darted his head around rapidly, searching for the blinker that would indicate what part of the plane was malfunctioning, and while the rookie did so, the captain smiled and laughed as he stared down the reduce air speed blinker on the bottom right hand of the control console. "Relax kid, reduce air speed is all, nothin to sweat over probably a bum sensor" said the captain in a slow relaxed tone indicative of his mind state.


Then, before the co pilot could respond, another light began to blink, and then another, and another and within the span of ten seconds the plane began to leer to one side as the hydraulics of the plane began to fail, as the ship leered violently to one side one of the engines failed and then another and another, leaving only one functioning engine. If it had simply been one or two engines it would have been one thing, if it had simply been the hydraulics it would have been dangerous but perhaps the old captain would have been able to right the ship, but it was the perfect storm, and soon the plane was violently barreling towards the surface of the earth.


As the plane descended it split into two pieces, the front and the back of the plane became separated and each fell to the surface of a large island, one that had never been charted by any explorer in the modern or the ages of old. It was an island shrouded in mystery and in death, and although the plane crash looked violent and destructive there was a chance that there would be survivors and somewhere on the island someone else was thinking the same thing.

 

[Uncultured]

Screaming was the first thing that Charles could recognize in his haze of confusion and pain, a women was screaming, and men, men were screaming too, all of them were frantic over something what could it be that had them in such a damned fuss. It was as if his senses were rebooting one at a time and the next sense that came were the smells, they hit him one at a time as if he were a bloodhound looking for a trail, first it was just the smell of fire and heated metal, then the smell of smoke, of chemicals too, the smell of synthetic material after being super heated to a point of melting, and then there was something else. Perhaps it was charred flesh he was smelling in the air, but why? Why would he be smelling charred flesh in Sydney, he wasn't at a barbecue or a restaurant, he hadn't even gotten off the plane. Hell, where was he? He was sure as hell hot, and it was humid, sticky even, he felt confined in his button down shirt, but why? Why was it so damned humid? Sydney wasn't supposed to be like this.


"I was flying to Sydney" thought Charles in a haze, and then it hit him, it came to him slowly, the pieces were out of focus at first but slowly they came into their shapes and fell into place upon the board of reality, one at a time they landed upon the table before his minds eye, it was akin to a jigsaw puzzle being formed by his rebooting brain.


"The plane crashed" he thought, the first time he thought it slowly, and then he thought it again, and again and again, and five repeats passed before he opened his eyes as widely as possible in a realization and a remembrance of what had transpired. Other than the flood of memory, the first thing that hit him was the light, the brightness of it overcame his retinas and he closed his eyelids as fast as he had opened them. He then reached towards his face meekly with his arm and rubbed his eyes softly, trying to overcome the overwhelming burden that the light had placed on his optical tubes. After several seconds he slowly he opened his eyes, blinking through the tears as he did so, and as he opened his eyes he was greeted by a double image. With each moment the images came closer and close together, but for the time being, his eyes rebelled and remained fixed in a crossed position.


As he sat up he exhaled deeply, his body felt battered and broken and his head pounded viciously as he rose from the ground. His lower back screamed in pain and he could feel warm blood leaking from a superficial gash in his back. He reached behind him with the right arm to feel the cut on his lower back and what his fingers met didn't surprise him, on his back was a long gash about a quarter of an inch deep into his flesh, it wasn't anything life threatening but it burned severely and bled with gusto upon the ground behind him.


More than just the cut on his back and his general state of pain, it was clear to him that he had suffered a concussion when the plane had crashed, he didn't have to be a doctor to know a concussion, he had seen enough of them in his time in the Navy, the BEM and during his time as an athlete, it would be a couple of hours before anything felt right again but thankfully, being suspicious of his own senses was something he was accustomed to doing from his time in the BEM, and he could handle it as long as he could get somewhere safer than the heart of a tropical jungle.


Charles tensed his legs and slowly bent forward, and after a few moments he was crouched on his hands and knees. He then slowly brought one leg forward and planted the balls of his right foot upon the earthen ground and using every ounce of his drained strength he raised his body from the forest floor. As he rose from the ground he planted his other foot upon the ground and stood, albeit without much confidence in his legs. As soon as his knees locked he leaned heavily against a tree to his left, and after a quick and hard bought of vertigo his double vision finally subsided and after almost two minutes of constant blurry vision he could now view the world around him through one focused lens.


The first thing that struck him was the colors of the place he found himself in, they somehow seemed more vivid, it almost seemed as if he had been living life through a cathode ray TV before this point, and that now he was living it through a plasma screen TV. Gault attributed the strange vivid nature of the colors to his concussion and placed the thoughts of the beauty of the foliage out of his mind, for he had work to do. He didn't have time to waste and he certainly didn't have time to admire the scenery, there were other survivors, Charles could hear as much and they would need his help in one way or the other.


The ex sailor stumbled through a hundred feet of jungle towards the sounds of chaos and emerged from the treeline, bearing witness to a scene of utter randomness, carnage, and the beauty of humans helping humans. Some people stood in various states of shock, looking out across the ocean as if they had nothing to worry about at all, and some opted to sit upon the sand while doing the same stoic stare, and other more adjusted people darted across the shoreline, aiding those in need and putting out the various fires that still raged upon various pieces of refuse that dotted the beach. Gault could see others emerging from the forest as well and some were even crawling from the ocean, truly it was a spectacle of chaos.

 

[KillGill]

Toshinori laid there, a massive pain of stinging appeared on his left leg. His hands were clenched into tights fists, griping the white sand that was under him. Where am I? Did the plane crash? What the Fuck happened to the plane? A metallic and salty liquid swished around in Toshinori's mouth. He quickly spat it out at the quick and very apparent realization that it was blood. He couldn't remember anything after the loud crunching noise. He lifted himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg.


The Scene was horrific, plane debris and bodies everywhere. Are, they Alive? He heard the sound, the unbearable and disgusting sound of the people around him screaming and crying out in pain. It was something from a movie. A movie he couldn't bare to watch. Where was the lady he had been sitting next to? The nice old lady...What was her name? Mrs. Weathers?"


Toshinori gulped at the sight of the accident. He wanted to move, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed with the overcoming sensation of fear and helplessness. He looked around the beach they were sitting on. Where the hell? The trees in the Forrest ahead of the beach rose up from the ground, standing brisk and mighty. While the scene of the Forrest and the beach alongside the ocean would have welcomed him, how could somebody be welcomed in a situation like this?


He felt a sharp sting in his eyes, he wanted the cry, but he knew he couldn't. What the hell kind of self respecting man would stand there and cry? Toshinori let out a grunt and limped his way over to the plane (Or what was left of it) And managed to pull some people out of the carnage of the debris.

 

[Denezen]

Damian could only see the blue sky above as he laid on his back. Nothing but clear blue sky as he stared non-blinking into the heavens. No puffy white clouds to block the sun he could see the hint of in his peripheral vision. No birds either graced the sky with their colorful feathers or their wondrous songs though the chef doubt he could hear them anyways with this strange ringing in his ears. He wondered if that sound could simply be a part of the dream he was having, his last waking thoughts recalling that he was on a plane heading to Sydney after all.


He took a quick look down to see where he was, but his vision was blurry and could only pick up that he was on a beach, half of his body being struck repeatedly by the coming waves. It was a weird sensation being in a dream. Though he knew he was in the course sand as wet water splashed on him, he felt only a numbness on his body. Damian tried to pick some sand up, just to have something interesting happen besides just laying there. However, when he tried to move his hand it only seem to twitch, not able to grip the loose sand or even raise his arm. He had heard of sleep paralysis before, but this was the first time the chef had experiencing it and at such a weird time as well.


Eventually, more trained scenes of the cook took over where the others failed to pick up on the situation he was really in. His noes picked up the smell of burning so strong that he could taste it in his mouth. He never liked that smell, recalling all the times a perfect treat was ruined by being forgot in the oven or a steak that charred black from being left to long on the grill. Though this was not a smell that came from cooking food. It came from metal, from wood, from leather. Smells he was only familiar with due accidentally in the kitchen. There was one smell that stood out from all the others though. A smell he remembered from childhood when he through caution to the wind around the burning stoves and ovens, though never in a quantity like he know experienced.


Flesh.


Able to lean his head from towards where the smell wafted from, the blurred image of his former transportation filled his eyes. Where seconds before it was clear singular blue, now a garish red and black mixed together that hurt to look at. The white noise seemed to fade as realization took place, a clear bell ringing replace by cries and screams of anguish. His body's blissful numbness followed trend by being replaced by searing pain, unlike the chef has felt before. Though with this pain came movement as Damian repeatedly flailed to get himself off the sand only to make it to his side before falling back into the him shaped hole in the sand each time. He tried to scream for help in frustration, but only rasp of airs escaped his throat seemingly lost in the chaos of the tragedy.

 

[TabbyHere]

Could time pass any slower? Legs crossed, hands folded, head back, and earphones in, Abilene waited. She waited for sleep to come so that hours could pass and she could once again touch her feet to Australian soil; four months of touring, show after show, had taken its toll. Liquid concealer hid the half moons of light purple that had formed beneath each of her hazel eyes, the skin's darkish tint having been brought on by both a deprivation of proper sleep and her "recreational activities", or rather, a singular habit.


The music that played through the headphones hooked to the touchscreen device in her hand were turned up louder than need-be primarily to block out her surroundings rather than enjoy the notes. Music had become foreign to her, melodies that she had no hand in writing anymore leaving her lips in front of swarms of people she didn't know and would never meet again night, after night, after night. It was sickening. She felt alienated, distant from them. Abilene couldn't remember the last time she gone somewhere without being recognized. Recognized, but not known. They knew her face; they knew the faces of her bandmates; they knew what management chose to feed the media. That was all. They didn't know a damn thing. And it was here, on this plane, that she felt more distanced from them than ever.


The desk had overbooked their first class seating, leaving Abi with an inconvenient decision. She could wait two days for the next flight to Aussie, by which time her mini-cation from the flashing lights and clawing management tycoons would practically be over, or she could take a seat in the main portion of the plane. Desperate to get home, Abilene had chosen the latter. She remembered a time when she might've struck up a conversation with the man sitting next to her, or the woman across the aisle, but not now. Now, she would do her best to blend into the rough upholstery of her seat just until she could see an Australian sun through the plane's compact windows.


The first few chords of one of Second Star's older songs started to play through her headphones and in a single moment, her right hand had flown up to jerk the small speakers from her ears. Sickening. Her gaze wandered towards her feet, where a chrome coffee thermos lay nestled in her carry-on bag. The heat from the coffee had been enough to fool the scanners at the preferred flier security gate, for in the bottom of that glimmering container lay a small baggie of what had become her salvation. She was in the process of organizing a route to the bathroom without making herself seem out of place with thermos in hand when it all went black.


Abilene awoke slowly, the only sound reaching her being the quick pulsing of her own veins. Her ears were full of the beat, almost as if she were deep underwater, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest with the same intensity. She was lying facedown, her nose and mouth pressed into a gritty earth that stung against her skin, radiating heat like sand on your feet while walking along a beach. Like sand... Abi found her arms, or, became aware of their use and pressed her palms firmly against the ground. They sunk in a bit, but she managed to raise herself off the earth several inches. She spit a mixture of saliva, blood, and...sand. She blinked. Sand? Abilene opened her mouth in an attempt to cry out, but her voice was cut off by a sharp pain in her jaw.


All at once, her ears popped, opening her back up to the world of sound. Screaming, crying, crackling, shouting, they bombarded her all at once. Raising her head slowly, her eyes met the source of the noises in question. There, several yards in front of her, lay what was formerly Pacific Airlines Flight 793. Her lips parted once more, this time managing to form something along the lines of a scream and a choked sob. A thin trail of blood ran from her bottom lip, but Abi didn't notice. She also didn't notice the similar red liquid oozing from a small gash on her left temple or the pain that continued to echo through her neck and lower jawline; she was incapable of taking in anything but the flaming wreckage.

 

[Atom]

Alex first thought was that he was dreaming...or something. He certainly wasn't laying down though, and his entire body seemed to ache painfully. He was tentative to open his eyes, trying to hold to the delusion that he was just dreaming, asleep in his bed. Or maybe he was asleep in the plane seat. Probably that rather than the bed, he had been on a flight. But the dull ache paired with the sense of falling were a constant thought and eventually he was forced to open his eyes and take in his surroundings.


"Holy shit!" He shouted out, twisting to grab the seat behind him in initial panic as he opened his eyes and spotted the ground probably twenty feet below him. After a moment he realized the chair straps held him in still and he let go, returning to his dangling position as he tried to get his bearings. Twenty feet in the air, tree branches, leafs, he was obviously stuck in a tree, but how...?


And then it came back to him.


A tremendous cracking as the plane split in half, air whipping past him out the back, his chair shaking violently and then it snaooed loose and he flew out into open air over the forest before the plane tip itself crashed. Lucky him, a few seconds earlier and a bit of rotation and he'd have likely been skewered rather than hanging by his seat.


"Alright...I got this..." He muttered self reassuringly as he reached out as far as he could to his left and grabbed a branch. Slowly and etremely hesitantly he reached down for his seatbelt latch.


"1...2...3!" He counted before unlatching it. He pitched forward heavily, swinging on the tree branch as he fumbled to get his other hand around it. And then it happened...


SNAP!!!


Alex gave a yell as he pitched forward and fell through the branches, snatching anything he could on the way down but none of the branches were able to support him for long and he fell down in juttery advances. Finally he reached the last seven feet and free fell, landing flat on his back with a thud and a gasp as he was winded.


Alex couldn't do anything but lay their, hands clenching at the air for a few moments as he croaked for air. And then finally his lungs expanded and he gasped in a breath, fighting to fill his lungs completely. Miraculously he was unharmed except for minor or shallow cuts and bruises along his arms and chest, except his chest felt like he might have a couple bruised ribs. Alex laid their a bit, letting his mind recollect the past few hours events and his lungs fill themselves with air until his heartbeat returned to normal. After a few moments he slowly climbed to a stand, looking towards a heavy cloud of smoke nearby and the sounds of screaming. Without hesitation he ran in that direction.


(So sadly this may be one of the only really big posts I can make as I was lucky and was able to do this on PC. Otherwise I'm stuck on mobile but I can still do a paragraph or two at the mimimum if thats fine with you @HunterJJ )

 

[Dark_Psycho]

The world was blurry she girl with tattoos and piercings was laying half way in the water half out. She was dreaming or hallucinating she had made it to her next Job and was becoming the worlds greatest tattoo artist. She had been laying out on the beach earphones in as she remembered the flight over. She how ever could not remember landing for the life of her. The smell of burnt rubber and metal hit her nose. Then something else barbecue, no not barbecue. How ever something was burning and she couldn't comprehend what. Her eye's slowly opened.


The world around her was fuzzy and tilting. She looked around the beat she could and put her hand in the sand. She rolled herself over to her back. She let out a gasp and shook. She tried to breath in. She turned to her side and coughed up water. Her throat hurt and then her lungs. The girl pulled herself up on to the beach more. She let out a groan and cried out. What happened? Where was she? Why was she in so much pain?


She had closed her eye's again and then opened them and looked around. She couldn't figure it out then it came in flash backs. The plane going down the screams the terror in people's eye's. Would they make it? Would they all die. That burning smell was Flesh. She had figured it out. Her head was gashed, her right ankle was sprained, and her left leg had a gaping wound in it. She couldn't move she felt like she had been hit by a bus. If they couldn't get home she was screwed.


This girl was amazing at tattooing and here she was on a island. Something burst inside her and she turned to the side in tears. She let out a sob and laid her head in the sand. She let sobs rip through her. It hurt and she was in pain. She hated that she couldn't move. She stopped and rested on her back. Her head was killing her and all she could do was lay there staring into the beautiful sky. The sun hurt her eye's so she closed them


The girl's name was Samantha Del. She liked to go by Sam. Here she was laying in the sand cut bruised and broken. She had no one here with her. Sam tried to pull herself up more. She however fell back to the sand in a daze. She lay there staring at the sky breathing. Her eye's closed as she felt dizzy and sick.


DeathToAllBetrayers

 

[GinjaGen]

Skylar stared at herself in the mirror in the airport bathroom, trying to breath deeply. Water droplets clung to her face. She had splashed water on her face in an effort to compose herself. It hadn't worked. All it had done was smudge her makeup. Sighing, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her eyeliner.


Having fixed her makeup and put on a carefully straight face, Skylar headed over to the terminal. Her section was quickly called, and she joined the masses in line. Standing in line to get on the plane, Skylar couldn't help but look around at the people around her. Not too long ago, people would have recognized her. Not too many, she wasn't a famous actress or anything, but some would have. Sky tried to not let that affect her. However, as much as she disliked admitting it, it did hurt. She had been at the top once. An Olympic athlete. How many people could say that? And how many people could say they had been an Olympic athlete who had earned a medal. Skylar hadn't cared that it was only a bronze at the time. She had earned a medal, a freaking Olympic medal! She had felt on top of the world. Then it had all been snatched away.


"Ticket?"


Skylar jumped and looked up at the airport worker asking to scan her ticket. Skylar handed the attendant the ticket with a small smile, waited for the green light and small beep, and then proceeded through the tiny ramp towards the plane, becoming more and more anxious. She worked to keep herself calm and composed, at least on the outside.


Skylar waited her turn to get on the plane, though she would have liked it if she could have waited a bit longer. As she stepped over the gap between the plane and the ramp she took a breath. She smiled weakly at the attendant and flopped into her seat. She made an effort to keep breathing, knowing that was the best thing she could do for herself until the medication kicked in.


A few minutes passed and for a moment her anxiety spiked as Sky worried her medication wasn't going to work. However, as t hey shut the cockpit door, she began to feel the effects of the medication. Finally becoming sleepy as they went through the safety routine, sky put her earphones on. They were the ones her coach had bought her when she'd won the bronze, the new fancy ones.... well, they had been new when she'd been given them anyway. She turned on the soothing sounds her doctor had recommended she listen to while flying. After a moment of contemplation, she chose ocean sounds, in preparation for her relaxation trip to Sydney. Appropriate, she decided.


As they began to prepare for liftoff, Sky drifted off, dreaming of beautiful beaches.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

​

She was still dreaming. She had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.


Skylar was lying on a beach. She could hear the ocean wave rolling and bubbling back and forth. She could smell the salt water and seaweed smell of the water. She could feel the hot sand under her arms where her sleeves were pulled up, and the warm sun caressing her face. These perceptions were all fine and dandy. They, however, were not what was convincing her this was all a dream. It was the sound of high and low-pitched screams mixing with the rumble of the ocean, cries of pain, anguish, and fear. There was the smell of blood, fuel burning, and another that resembeled the smell of rotten meat cooking. Along with the hot sand and warm sun, there was underlying pain, coming from various locations on her body.


Now, Skylar knew pain. She had experienced it time and time again in quite a few different forms. She had burned herself, and broken bones. She'd torn muscles and gotten cut. From what she could tell just laying there, there was something funky going on with her ribs, and her head hurt like when she'd been knocked off a horse in gallop by a large tree branch, most likely indicating a concussion. The more sharp pains were coming from various parts of her, indicating that in this dream she probably had quite a few cuts all over her.


What was worrying her the most, however, was the fact that it felt like the medication was wearing off. That was an odd thing to dream. For a moment, she doubted this was dream at all, but quickly shoved that idea away, not willing to think it yet.


Hesitantly, she cracked an eye, but closed it quickly, gasping as it felt like someone was stabbing her in the eye. The sun was right overhead, and the beam was causing Sky's medically dilated and pupils to attempt to contract at an alarming rate, causing her quite a bit of pain. In protest to said pain, Sky attempted to roll over, only to feel a deeper, more sickening pain from her right side. For a moment she held perfectly still.


After a moment of stillness, she opened her eyes again, squinting. In front of her was the ocean. It was intensely blue, more pronounced by the bright almost white sand. It was more beautiful than anything Sky could have imagined.


She paused at that thought. It scared her. She was slowly coming to realize that this wasn't a dream. Once again, she forced that thought from her mind. She rolled to the other side, off of the side that hurt, and then onto her stomach, her muscles twinging at the points of pain around her body. She put her sore arms under her and heaved herself up onto her knees. Sitting up and back onto her heels, she looked in front of her and froze.


Gone was the beauty. There was only wreckage, anguish, and fire. It was then that Sky knew this was no dream. She could have never come up with this. Struggling to her feet, she tried to take in her surroundings more, observing other survivors moving around, some just waking up, other just sitting in shock. Still others appeared to be attempting to help others.


Sky walked towards the largest group of people, a bit wobbly and clutching her side. She wanted to know what had happened, what she could do to help, and maybe get someone to look at her side.

 

[AngieG]

Seta was practically dizzy with excitement as she sat on the plane, clutching her nurse's bag. Or perhaps she was dizzy with fear, having never been on a plane before. She buckled herself in to her seat, barely noticing she had buckled her nurse's bag in as well, binding the two of them together. As they got nearer and nearer to takeoff, the dizziness and excitement began to wear off into sheer exhaustion. Was she really leaving everything she knew, everything she loved behind, to move halfway across the world? The thought awoke an inner battle that had been waging in her mind for weeks. It was too late to turn back now, there was no point arguing with her inner demons. That thought gave her some peace, and allowed her to fall asleep even before the plane took off.


Seta was a very, very deep sleeper. But that initial crash, it woke her. Suddenly her seat was ripped away and the person next to her, who had not been buckled, was gone. Just gone. She could see two, two other parts of the plane falling separately, but she was not apart of either. As she fell her seat turned through the chaotic wind, angling her to see her destination, and her inevitable demise. What a beautiful place to die. She mused in her head, her fingers clutching her nurse's bag so tight that her knuckles turned bone white. Who would miss me, who would mourn me? She thought, and that very thought caused her to faint.


The next time she awoke, Seta realized she was curled up under her chair. She fell, from so high and yet, she was alive! Alive? How could she even tell? She sat in her chair, dazed for a minute, allowing her senses to catch up with her mile-a-minute thoughts. She smelled flesh, she heard screams, and she felt... burning? She had fallen relatively near the initial crash sight, and the flames from the mangled plane were catching, and they were catching on to her and her seat. Seta screamed, for the first time since she stepped on the plane she allowed something to leave her mouth. It was a cry, a guttural, animal cry as she threw herself at her seat belt, attacking it until she finally freed herself and threw the chair off of her with a strength she hadn't realized she possessed. Her shirt, her shirt was on fire. She barely had time to register this as her body automatically dropped to the sand, smothering the burning polyester. As Seta stood up slowly she ran her hand over her buzzed head, that glorious buzzed head that had been unable to catch fire. She looked around, her eyes finally able to see the chaos that reigned around her. Everywhere she looked, everywhere, people were screaming, crying, dying with little to no help of survival or rescue.


The thought awoke something in Seta, causing her to look about frantically for her nurse's bag. It was still under the chair, which was now completely ablaze. Without thinking Seta hurled herself under the burning seat and grasped at her bag, yanking it out as the flames once again licked her flesh. Seta was suddenly aware how sore she was, her everything ached. It reminded her of a car accident she had been in as a little girl, the accident that had rendered her almost bedridden for weeks. She didn't have that luxury now. She was amazed she was even alive, of course, she knew the unconscious human body could sustain great injuries without ever impairing anything too important. She didn't have time to think of this now.


Seta grabbed her nurse's bag and limped over to the main crash sight, where she found the most people. Her eyes immediately found a Japanese man with a head injury and she limped over to him quickly, settling down on to her knees in front of him. Her brain didn't have time to register, this was automatic, this is what she trained for.


"Sir, I'm going to need you to follow this light, please. You have a head injury." Seta said slowly, carefully, calmly. She had pulled a very small, very bright flashlight out from her nurse's bag and was running it back and forth in front of her eyes. "Good, very good. Okay, you have a cut on your head. Something must have hit it, it isn't too deep but I am probably going to have to give you stitches. You may also have a concussion." Seta said, then noticed the blood dripping from his mouth. "Open your mouth please, Sir." Seta said, taking his chin in her hand and helping him as she again took her flashlight and examined the inside of his mouth. "It appears something struck the side of your face, causing your gums to bleed. Nothing too serious, that will heal on it's own." Seta said and began rummaging through her nurse's bag for gauze, disinfectant, and a needle with thread for stitching. "Sir, does anything else hurt?" Seta asked as she began applying disinfectant to his head wound.


@KillGill

 

[Masks of Ayn]

Xavier remembers landing in Las Angeles a few minutes before his flight. Remembered the muffled voices of nonchalant travelers, as well as those swiftly passing by for the next terminal, just like himself, trying to catch their next flight before it completed boarding and left them behind. He had thankfully arrived fifteen minutes prior, and his seat hadn't been given away just yet.


He ambled down the ramp and over that gap onto the aircraft, the soft whirring of engine parts and air conditioning flowing oxygen into the passenger compartment. Putting his carryon bag overhead he quickly situated himself into the last first class lounge chair. It was his second time on an airplane, the first one from New York about seven hours long where he said bye to his ma. It hadn't been so bad, the flyin an all. Could'a been worse.


The first class treatment got Xavier cozy real quick compared to the rag-tag work life he's used too. His employer treated him like a good ol' boy, so he worked like one too. Stains of oil from years of work wedged into his fingernails and cuticles, and callouses toughened his palms.


The business class around him looked more sophisticated than him. They all wore suits or nice dresses, a few looked at Xavier snobbishly. Could never afford a nice suit, he thinks to himself. No, he wore the nicest jeans he owned, a black wife beater and light cotton long sleeve, hooded shirt over it. He was caught by surprise when a woman asked him about his work, where he's from. Keeping things on the downlow, he explained a bit about working in auto shops, being a manager for a strip of shops and all their parts, equipment. She seemed genuinely impressed such work could afford first class.


If only it was that honest of work.


That was the last thing he remembered before dozing off.

~

​

The juttering of the engines woke Xavier up. Turbulence: first impression. Before the oxygen bags fell from the ceiling, alarm tones beeping and lights flickering on and off.


Screaming rang in his ears, the crying of woman and children. His ears continued to fill with pressure, pop, and repeat as the decent only increased. A large cracking, an earthquake in the sky tore through the wings and the cabin. Earthquake?


Nah, he had to be dreaming. Was this real? No, this can't be true, planes were s'posed to be safer than a normal vehicle.


Gravity began to over take the craft, lifting Xavier out of his seat, hanging by the seatbelt like a thread. Until it was all over, black in his orbitals, vision completely lost.


Oh God, I'm not blind, am I?


Coughing, sand erupted out of his mouth and around his face. Xavier groans, face felt hot and scrubbed raw. Opening his eyes, light was dim face first to the ground, sand kissing his eye lashes. His neck felt stiff, another body pressed against him, arms wrapped tightly around the slender body of the woman he was speaking with before hell broke loose.


Breathing ragged, his jaw clenched at the pain. Broke a rib, no doubt about it. He's broken a few in his years of fighting, knew what it felt like.


Flesh and hair burnt to a crisp over took his sense of smell as he lifted his head, staring at the persevered face of the lifeless woman. She had such a pretty face before...


Terror struck through him, this wasn't a dream. He couldn't push away, as much as he wanted to be off her limp body, blood oozing out of her mouth, the trauma of the decent and crash crushing her innards most likely. Not that he was a doctor.


The crepitous of her bones at every attempt to weasel away made it clear.


"F-F-fa" Ah fuck, he thinks. His jaw felt immobile, but the semi-managed word spoken told him it wasn't broke. Just hurt like hell.


Lifting onto his forearms, pulling them free, he slowly tried to rise and turn. He felt a bulge in his ribs, grimacing. Probably four or five ribs were broken, the pressure against his lungs burned. Maybe they were just bruised, severly, he wasn't fully sure. Looking behind him he was pinned by part of the aircraft, a support beam to something, probably the cabin. Hard to tell, a chair was pinning his lower torso down, if it had landed on him any other way than diagonal and around him, he'd have been severed in half no doubt.


Burning nylon, airplane parts and other debris of luggage blinded his vision to anything in front of him. Surrounded, caged.


Wiggling his toes, or, were those his toes? No, they were definitely his toes. Fingers, check, tore up to hell by the sand and debris but check. Eyes... he wished they weren't working. His head throbbed, he had to have hit his head, right?


Fire began to burn, crackling closer to him. Spurting heated bits at his face and body. Trying to free himself, to no avail, he was left here. Would he die? No he couldn't die yet, or else he wouldn't have survived, God wouldn't a let him die now. Right?


"H-ey," his voice was cracked, Xavier couldn't even tell if the words truly left his vocals or if he imagined it. Licking over his busted lip, lifting his sore arm into the air he began to wave it frantically.


" 'Ey, 'Ey, anyone... alive? Help!"


He paused a moment, realizing than in all the burning, the fire beginning to lick at his trapped legs, the scent of super heated metal welding together or disintegrating, that his cargo was in this wreckage. But what was more inportant, cargo or his life?


Xavier would worry about that later.


How much time even passed? Seconds, minutes, an hour? Could he have been left behind, left for dead?


No.... he still hears crying. People were alive too, just like him. Wailing, he wanted to help, really he did. His legs began to go numb under pressure.


Can't die here, Xavier.


"Help!" his New York accent was thick. He coughed abruptly, fumes pulling into his lungs. It hurt to breathe, let alone yell with all his might. "I'm stuck, can anyone hear me? Help! Help! Dammit, help!"

 

[Flawless]

Valentin stared out the window of the economy class seat, his long legs folded over awkwardly in the rather cramped space. His chin rested in the palm of his hand, propped up on the arm rest of his seat, his forehead resting against the slightly grubby, plasticy material that served as his window. He looked, but didn't necessarily perceive the gorgeous view outside; his mind was too busy wrapped up in idle thoughts. A book lay, unattended in his other hand, placed down over one knee. He hadn't picked it up for over half an hour.

Yet, as he felt slight turbulence, his heart momentarily skipped a beat. He sat up a little straighter, relaxing his startled nerves immediately, his grey-green gaze sweeping over the heads of the rest of the passengers. Most of them seemed to be asleep; he would be too, if he could. 14 hour flights were pretty damn awful, but for an insomniac like him..

He turned to look back outside, marvelling for the first time at the pure blue sky and white clouds, painted bright white and dappled with lavender shadows. Yet the plane shook again, distracting him once more. He looked around for a second time, brow furrowing slightly as he shut his book, placing it back inside his bag under the seat in front of him. But he couldn't do the zip up; the plane had started rattling, violently now. He glanced swiftly upwards, and saw the emergency lights blinking furiously as the cabin flickered into darkness. Cold ice settled in the pit of his stomach, turning his body cold, his eyes widening in shock. Then, the people started screaming.

Oxygen masks fell from above their seats, yet there was no time to think, no time to react, as the plane cracked straight in half with a terrible screech of metal on metal, supports and rivets splitting open, electricity sparking from the ends of torn wires. There was one final agonising groan as the last bottom section of metal connecting the two halves of the plane bent, then snapped. Then the plummet truly began.

He began to lift out of his seat, feeling it begin to break away from the plane. In a terrified daze, he scrabbled with the belt, only managing to unclip just it as the seat flew away. Yet luck was not in his side. It was like he was in slow motion as the belt twisted around his ankle, slowly falling away from the jagged end of the plane.

He was ripped straight out of the cabin, free falling through the air. He managed to kick off the belt, plummeting down towards the earth below.

Yet he looked up at the sky, weightless, the air rushing past him. He reached up towards the sun, hovering in the endless blue sky. What he was reaching for, he did not know. God. Salvation.

Father.

Yet nothing could save him. A strange calm overcame him, as he closed his eyes, gently closing his fist as he fell.

до свидания. Goodbye.

~

He couldn't feel his body. It was like he was floating in darkness, a starless abyss. Am I dead?

Yet he was somehow aware. Valentin slowly opened his eyes, blinding light streaming in. He squinted as feeling slowly returned. And how he wished it hadn't.

He had fallen, landing on his back as he had tumbled a short way to come to rest on a rocky outcrop in the sand. He could vaguely feel blood running down his back as the jagged stone dug into his skin. His arm was far outstretched, cool water lapping at his fingers as waves rushed in over the golden sand, over and over again.

His head flopped to one side. The sand disappeared into the beautiful aquamarine water, falling away to endless ocean, stretching far over the horizon. The sunlight sparkled off of the small wavelets, the only sound to be heard being the gentle rush of the sea. Birds twittered in the background. The balmy wind carried the smell of salt and seaweed. It was peaceful; quiet and calm, like he was the only one on the island.

Yet everything abruptly came crashing back to him. The pain from his torn up back, the heart wrenching sobbing and wailing from behind him, the smell of burning bodies and metal. He could taste the metallic tang of blood, coating his tongue. He felt like he had just been hit by a meteor.

He moved his arm, only to be stopped by a long bleeding cut from where he had fallen across the rock, little lumps of stone and sand buried in it.

Painfully rolling over and onto his side, he crawled over to the water, and slowly submerged it into the salty waves. He gritted his teeth, a little hiss of pain escaping his lips as the water began to cloud with his blood. He weakly splashed deeper, getting a little lightheaded from the exertion already, before flopping down fully into the water. He blacked out for a second, partly because of his temporary weakness, and partly because of the intense pain that followed the salt meeting the wound on his back.

Yet it slowly faded to a dull throbbing, as he relaxed in the cool waves. How was he not dead? His mind blankly repeated that question over and over again as he gathered himself together. He let out a slow breath, and slowly got up, crouching in the water before rising fully. He touched a cut running down his right cheek, a small droplet of blood falling to the sand as he surveyed the carnage with some sense of dull horror. People clutched limp, lifeless bodies of their loved ones. Burning debris scattered the beach; some of it appeared to be human, at least, once. It was sickening. Yet as he looked to the wreckage of the plane, he caught sight of someone partially hidden by black smoke. Fire was starting to spring up around him. They were still alive.

Disorientated, Valentin started to stumble towards him. He tripped up over his feet, landing face first in the sand. Painfully, he picked himself back up. He just hoped that he would make it in time.

He could hear now the man's weakened cry for help. Hold on...

He pulled his bloodied shirt up over his face and he knelt (or, to put it more accurately, tripped again) by the injured man who appeared to be stuck under parts of the ruined aircraft.

He opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, but quickly realised that that was a stupid question so shut it again. He pulled bits of debris away from around him, burning his hands, yet not paying attention to the wounds. He eyed up the chair pinning the guy to the sand; in his normal state he would be able to move it, yet in his dizzy, rather weakened state.. He just hoped that he had recovered enough strength. He didn't want to even think about the metal bar crushing his legs.

"You have to try to push vith me,​

хорошо?" he spoke hurriedly, the rising flames a constant reminder of the danger they were in.


He put his shoulder underneath it, careful not to use his injured arm. His back still stung with every movement.


"One, tvo, three..."


(Hey, you! @Masks of Ayn! Yeah, I'm talkin' ta you! )


Хорошо? (khorosho) - Okay?

 

[Mayfly]

{ sorry about the short reply, writer's block and omg the wordless writing standards of you people AND I GET THAT SHE SHOULD BE DEAD BUT SHE ISN'T IT'S PAST MIDNIGHT IM REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THE LOGISTICS OF THIS THING }


Zoe pulled her legs into her chest as she leaned back against her chair, staring out of the window, her headphones in and plugged into her Fall Out Boy playlist ( *-* FOB ). An air stewardess strolled over and asked her something. Zoe turned and smiled at the woman, reading her lips. Here are your purchases, Ms. Levi. Zoe nodded, and the stewardess placed a plastic bag near her. The people around her seemed much older than her, and usually she'd try and make conversation with some of them, but she just didn't feel like it this time.


She had an awful sense of foreboding that something bad was going to happen. She looked down at the iPhone in her lap, dismissing the thought without much further pondering. Zoe clutched the provided pillow tight against her chest and closed her eyes, letting sleep reel her in slowly.


~~~~~~~~~


The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was how bright it was. She'd dimmed the lights. The next thing was the excruciating pain in her leg. She was splayed in an awkward position, her brown-purple hair spread out behind her. Lifting an arm to push herself off the ground, she almost yelled out as pain shot through her arm. All around her, bits and pieces of plane debris seemed to be arranged like an abstract art piece. She lay there for a moment, thinking about how she should go about this. Using her good arm, she managed to stumble to her feet, almost falling back down immediately afterwards. She glanced down at her foot, a huge cut running down the side of her left calf, bright red and bleeding.


That was the last straw though. Zoe let out a bloodcurdling scream that must've echoed throughout the whole island.


She fell back onto the ground, at an utter loss. Her leg bled freely, staining the sand around it a dark red. She truly was going to die here. Her nose detected smoke as she sat on the ground, clutching her limp arm. Fire? Honestly, she'd flew off farther from the rest, and had come off with a reasonably better situation. But they were still stuck on a deserted island. Noticing her phone, headphones, and bag of items laying nearby, she crawled towards it, pocketing the device and fishing out a jacket from the bag. She tied the piece of clothing hastily around her wound, and gripped the bag tightly. Zoe could feel a panic attack coming on, but she pressed it down.


If there was a fire, maybe there were people there.


And then she wouldn't be alone.


Limping towards the source of the smoke, the smoke thickened, and the girl could only raise a hand to cover her face with her sleeve. There was a guy there surrounded by flames, and he was screaming. She hobbled towards him more quickly. As she neared, she caught sight of the man standing over him, trying to lift the debris off of the other male. She had to help.


More smoke entered her lungs. She was choking, she could feel it. She might die trying to save this guy, and she realised that, but she continued on her way despite that. { I get that she has a bag, but she's panicking okay it's just not running through her train of thoughts at the moment, okay? } Hopping daintily over a patch of fiery sand, wincing as she hit the ground, she scrambled towards the two.


She really needed to freak out. But now wasn't the time.


{ three's a crowd but Zoe's gonna go mad if she's by herself so hope you have room in the party c: poor girl. }


@Flawless


@Masks of Ayn

 

[Lioness075]

Luness inwardly sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she signed in her two US Army duffle bags at the airport. She'd gotten this flight to Sydney at the last second as a gift from her parents. After having been deployed and returned more or less safe, her parents wanted to give her a chance to recuperate somewhere far from the military settings. Thus, they got her a flight to Australia, which was a dream vacation for her.


Having checked in her bags, Luness headed inside the airport and straight to her terminal, which was beginning to check people in. They called for anyone who was active military and she hobbled forward, her crutches making a crunching and squeaky sound as she hobbled along. While deployed, she'd been in an accident involving a humvee, which she'd been driving since she's a motor vehicle operator, and now she had a bad stress fracture in her right foot and her meniscus was torn in her left knee. Thanks to her parents, she was also going to get her injuries fixed up in a hospital in Australia. Before leaving, her personal orthopedist had given her a knee brace, the medical boot, and crutches so she could at least travel in some kind of comfort.


Luness made her way onto the plane and struggled with putting her backpack in the top shelf, until some man helped her put it away. She muttered a thanks while feeling annoyed with herself for being so incapable. She then hobbled into her seat, an isle one that she'd chosen purposely as her knee needed to be straight for comfort. She lay her crutches down beside her, plugged in her earphones, and closed her eyes as her acoustic music started to soothe her mixed feelings.


Waking up sharply, the first thing that hit Luness' mind was how much pain she was in. She groaned and tried to sit up, but was met by a wave of nausea and even more pain. She slumped back down on her back, sand flying up around her. She tried to understand where the sand had come from or why there was a harsh sun glaring down on her, but she was in so much pain from her legs and right wrist that she couldn't think straight. Where was she? What had happened? She coughed up some blood to the side and then groaned again. Where was help when you needed it?

 

[Masks of Ayn]

The smoke churned black and grew heavy against the ground. Lowering his arm to catch his breath against the sand, the slightest sliver of clean air, he inhales deeply. Coughing, he hacks and retches.


Damn broad, he thinks, unable to get away from her once pretty face. They always get you in the damnest situations.


Raising his head into the smoke, clamping his eyes shut, he goes back to waving. He couldn't yell anymore. His time was up. His legs began to burn as the flames began to devour the metal that trapped them. Readjusting he went to pat out the catches flames that went to eat at his jeans, surely he'd be dead. No one's coming.


The throbbing in his ribs, his jaw, his head all subsided. Adrenaline coursing through his veins. He tried to reach up and pry the chair off of him, scorching his hands in flame. Hissing pain, Xavier quickly transferring his hands from the smoldering metal. The jolt to the ground beside him kicking up sand gave Xavier affright, opening his eyes, staring up at a battered silhouette enveloped in smoke.


The searing of flesh sizzles into Xavier's ears as debris is removed. A hazy visage of beautiful blue and deep forestry green before the plumes of smoke restricted view.


"You have to try to push vith me,


хорошо?" The man spoke.


хорошо? The hell is crow-rio? Cro-de-ria? He rethought the way the man spoke. Yes? OK? No, figuratively? Either way he wasn't going to be able to do it himself.


"Ah," he coughs as the smoke attempted to smother the oxygen from him. "Si, Si, together."


He tries to twist and groans, he was in the worst position. Falling back pushes against the sand, burying his hands and his right forearm; his left side more free than the right. Pressing his back up against the heating seat that restrained him. Another thud, he looks over, seething a loud groan of pain as he attempted to push as the male pulled. A woman, or maybe just a girl, he couldn't really see, trying to come near.


His right arm freed and he pushed up onto his left hand, "S-Stay back! RImanere indietro! We'll c-come," hems, expelling the smoke from his lungs, "To y-you!" While placing his right hand above his head, symmetrically with the other and bursts all his adrenaline to push the seat out of the sand and away from him with the help from the other man.


C'mon God.... Xavier just didn't want another girl's life in his hands, truthfully.


"Ah, fuck!" Cursing he tries to wiggle and twist his legs free, only feeling the sand sink the debris and support beams further in his attempt. It was getting too hot, it'd likely crystallize to molten glass and trap him for amputation if he didn't get out soon.


"Veloce, veloce! Quickly, my legs, I can't get out." He says to the man, "Two inches, I d'unt know if I can turn enough."


Thinking Xavier realized beneath him was sand, and the woman beneath him. "Move her, the woman! It'll and give room for me to get out!" At least, that's what he hoped.


@Flawless @Mayfly

 

[Mayfly]

{ she's 18, by the way, which is way too young to be stranded on an island with freaky tikis, which is what I decided she would nickname them soon enough, so I call dibs }


Zoe froze in her tracks at the trapped person's call, gripping the bag in her hand tighter. The momentary pause lasted maybe a second, before she continued moving towards them stubbornly.


She had to find some way to help. The girl wouldn't be that much of assistance pushing the chair off, and her fracture wasn't going to help. Standing a small distance back from them, she watched as the man struggled beneath the chair.


She couldn't just let him die.


That was when the 18-year-old noticed the hand flayed out from underneath the seat, slightly buried under the build of the man too. Rushing forward and ignoring Xavier's earlier warning, she grabbed a hold of the woman's shoulder and attempted to pull her out.


"Move her, the woman!" Attempting to lift the seat from the other side with a leg, while the other shook slightly from the strain, she had a morbid thought of the woman's body ripping in two. She flinched in the slightest way, but lifted the seat just barely an inch higher and continued to pull.


"Already on it!"


The smoke continued to fill her lungs unforgivingly, and Zoe choked slightly.


The bag's handle was pressed into her neck by the side of her head, and she stood in that extremely awkward and uncomfortable position as the woman's body, centimeter by centimeter, was revealed from under the seat.


Her leg was going to give way soon enough, and it might crush the woman's bones if it dropped onto her body. Panic rushed to her head, and she yanked more frantically, getting the woman out in whole. As soon as the other female was safe, Zoe dropped the seat and dragged the woman out of the smoke and near the water.


Zoe's breaths came out in small short puffs, her whole body shaking as she hyperventilated. Her chest contracted, and she almost fell backwards from the sudden fainting spell.


@Masks of Ayn


@Flawless

 

[Atom]

(I've been busy but is this still alive?)

 

[Lioness075]

(It kinda is. I hope it is. The responses are just not so common, but it's a grand idea for a RP)

 

[Atom]

@Masks of Ayn


Jason burst from the jungle to stare at the wreckage for a Moment in shock.


"Move her, the woman!"


Jason turned, spotting the source of the voice as another woman pulled free what he expected to be the woman in question.


Jason quickly rushed over, kicking a metal bar into the air as he ran and grabbing it before he skidded to his knees by the man, "Hold on buddy I'll getcha out!" Jason reassured him, jamming the end of the bar under the debris pinning his leg. He quickly took a deep breath, rising to his feet, before pulling upwards on the bar, straining against the weight to try and give the man the room he needed to get free.

 

[Masks of Ayn]

"No Do--" by the time Xavier realized it was the girl he told to stay away, pulling the woman out from under him, he didn't have time to keep her away.


The woman beneath was dead. Crushed, cracking like a gross human bubble wrap, blood oozing out of her mouth after her lungs exploded within her chest from pressure. He later noticed as she was removed, a metal bar stuck inbetween her ribs. Maybe it was a painless death... but now the girl would see the smoke decayed flesh and burnt char-dried blood.


He didn't want her to see...


"Hold on buddy I'll getchaout!" The words startle him, another came to help. A stranger.


So many wanting to help save him. Maybe God did want him to survive after all... or chivalry wasn't truly dead.


He'd vote for God.


Time to hustle, Xavier, he tells himself. C'mon boy, c'mon.


The guy using the bar hardly was scathed to his burning eyes, the smoke increasing, shrowding sight further. As the bar wedged beneath the bars he felt a pinch as room got tighter and he groaned, digging her forearms into the sand and working on digging his way out.


Grunting Xavier felt the support beams begin to lift ever so slightly, and tried to twist himself as uncomfortably as he could, digging at his legs, before getting an ankle free. His leg nearly rocketed out, as if hundreds of years of pressure had built up into his heel. Rotating, he quickly pay down his shoe which caught on fire during the extraction, the new oxygen feeding the flame. Afterward he was able to comando crawl his way out, stumbling up to his knees to his feet.


Ducking down, he grasps the arms of the males, before looking at the girl wheezing.


"We... gotta ...," he heaved, coughing on smoke, "her out'er here. Us, out."


He tried to take a step, but his ankle failed at the pressure of his own body weight. Xavier hits the ground, and shakes his head, he hurt fucking everywhere.


@Atom


@Flawless


@Mayfly

 

[Atom]

Jason dropped the bar and the wreckage as the man got free, looking again at the woman being dragged out. Dead. Damn, this wreckage was horrible. How many more were just like her? How many others dead?


The other man coughed something out before collapsing. Jason dropped down, coughing as well before hooking the man's arm over his shoulder, "Come on buddy! One... two... THREE!" Jason grunted, lifting the man with his help if he gave it.

 

[Lioness075]

Luness could hear commotion all around her and weakly called out, "Hey, I need help!" Her legs and wrist were still in immense pain, but she got too nauseous every time she tried to sit up and look at her wounds. From what she could see, her wrist had a really bad burn along the forearm, but otherwise seemed to be okay. If she had her medic pack on her, then she could easily fix up her wrist in a few moments. Alas, in the midst of what she assumed was her plane crashing, she had no idea where the pack was and she had no idea where she was in accordance to the plane's crash location. She could hear people shouting and debris being moved, as well as fire, but it didn't seem like anyone knew where she was. Now luckily, she could still feel her toes, which meant she hadn't lost any limbs, thank god, but her legs were still killing her and she must've broken a rib or two with the immense pain and nausea she felt when trying to sit up. 'Damn, this sucks,' Luness thought as she tried to look around and get someone's attention.