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Bored bored bored bored.

[Mari is subtle about her boredom.]

Aw god I'm so bored.

[Very subtle. You'd hardly spot it.]

Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

[As usual, she's on the beach. This time, she's lying on the ground, having been crushed under the weight of her ennui, tossing a found volleyball up and down over and over. Gravity takes over and it lands on her face, crunching off her nose.]

Ow! Fuck a duck! [Sitting up, she cups a hand over her nose, giving the volleyball a hurt and confused look.] Now I'm hurt and bored. This is the opposite of everything I wanted.

Current Mood: so i am putting up short posts

bricolaging

[At least some of the stuff that's washed up is useful...

Alfred leans back against a tree in camp, bottle of whiskey in one hand and half of a coconut shell - re-purposed to serve as a cup - in the other. If he angles his head upward, he can almost see the red light cast by the setting sun filtering through the trees.

He's almost in a good mood. Please, feel free to come by and ruin it.]

Current Mood: i gave myself a free day

spickandspan

[Annie ventures off from camp, more than a little embarrassed by Krystal's offering horoscopes to everyone she can get her fingers on. Better to save face and walk away, though Annie's sorely tempted to give her mother a good harangue.

Finding herself on the beach, she espies something half-buried in the sand...]

A HUMAN HAND

IT'S A HUMAN HAND

HOLY

HOLY CRAP

sweetsummerchild

When Callie wakes, the first thing she feels is pain. The second is dehydration as she coughs. She is sore all over and parched, and the sun is too strong on her. She groans as she stands, taking in the surroundings.

This is too painful to be a dre-- No. It's not a dream.

Running across the sand and shielding her eyes with her hand, Callie cries out, "Maggie! Eva!" Going to Australia was supposed to be an awesome idea! It wasn't supposed to end in a crash. What were the chances? Apparently 100 percent in their case.

Damnit. Where are her friends? Her mother is going to freak out once she hears about this. So will her brothers. Damn it!

"Maggie! Eva!" They have to had washed up on this island, too. If any of them could say fuck you to death, those two could.

waniandmoon

Vincent is trying desperately not to lose hope, but he has the tired feeling that he's fighting a losing battle.

Rescue should have arrived by now.

He's reading his text messages again, sitting on the beach, just at the edge of the forest. He's been careful to try and conserve power in his phone, turning it on only once in a while on the impossible chance that he will get a signal.

There is never a signal.

He's probably memorized the last few conversations he's had with anyone of emotional importance, and he knows he's just torturing himself rereading them. He wonders what the queue of messages will look like if -- no, when -- they are rescued and returned to civilization.

With a sigh, he drops the phone onto the sand and stares up at the irritatingly empty sky, as if through sheer will power he can imagine a rescue plane into being.

disingenuous

[It came as a shock when more than a couple days went by and no rescuers could be seen. Adelle supposes it's good that there's some kind of fresh water source, but living off of coconuts and mangoes is getting so old and tired.

When are people going to come for them? She wants off this island!

For the moment, though, after making sure no one was around, she's changed into her bathing suit and is reclined on the beach. She might as well get an even tan while she's here, if it's the only thing she can get out of it.

Fiddling with her iPod, which still miraculously works, she vents her feelings on Angry Birds. Sighing, she whines:] When will we get off this stupid island?

aiguille

[This is awful.

They crashed and he's been wandering around lost ever since he managed to swim to shore. Disorientated, he's slept on the beach and survived off of the few fruits he can identify. Where is he? Why hasn't anyone come out to help him?

Hungry and tired, Sean drags his pack down the beach in search of rescue teams, a starbucks, anything useful. With very little food though, his body still hasn't recovered from the crash. Something banged his hand on impact and it's been swollen and sore ever since.

It's not long before he just lays face down on the beach and groans. He's so tired, so hungry, and his hand really hurts. Where's an icy drink when you need it?]

allbarkandnobite

Kaoru sits on the bank of the spring near the camp, considering it with a thoughtful expression on his face. He has many thoughts, among them whether or not it was worth the risk to go for a swim and how much he wants something to eat that wasn't fruit or a vegetable. Even if they are rescued today, he thinks, he will not be eating much fruit when they get home.

When. When when when when. Not if.

How useful would a swim be for a bath without shampoo or any soap at all? Kaoru tugs at his hair a bit in thought, wincing at how greasy and limp it is now. He's always taken a lot of pride in his hair; for now, he is very glad there are next to no mirrors on the island. It is hard enough to know his hair is limp and greasy and ugly without having to actually see how horrible it looks.

Bath without soap. More failed attempts at catching any fish at all. Neither option sounds very appealing, so he continues to just sit at the edge of the water, occasionally throwing a rock into the water to break the tedium. The water is lapping at the bottom hem of his Oscar pajama pants, but he doesn't care right now about that. It dries fast enough.

asimplemistake

Things that would be cool right now:

An IV of tea

paracetemol for the worst headache ever

new clothes

At least the river means being able to wash and drink, but it's doing nothing to cure the other two. Working on a cure for her headache, Mari's retired to the beach with her pack of cards. In the shade from a palm, she deals herself out a hand of solitaire and starts playing. With almost every move she makes though, she glances up to look out over the ocean.

Still no help?

"What is this, the Bermuda triangle?"

allbarkandnobite

It takes some tries and shedding some of his dignity out of a desire to not destroy his pants on his second day on the island, but Kaoru is now able to climb palm trees. Not well, not for long before he starts to slip, and not without scratching the hell out of his legs and hopefully not tearing holes in his boxers, but he can now grab a few coconuts or some leaves and toss them to the ground before having to give up and frog-hop his way down the trunk before the stress of holding on means he lands on his ass in the sand from thirty feet in the air.

He lands on his ass on the last one anyways, but it doesn't hurt as much from about two feet in the air. Kaoru takes the moment to rest, glancing at his pile of food and leaves. Mostly coconut leaves - Alfred seems serious about wanting them for thatch - with a few coconuts, some breadfruit he found about ten feet away, and a pile of avocados that he put in his hoodie pocket when he discovered the tree while walking to find an appropriate palm three.

That is, he decides, good enough for now.

afterglowing

Deirdre is sitting on the beach, her knees pressed to her chest, bleached blonde hair clinging to her face in salty clumps. She isn't doing anything, not even thinking about her situation, just staring out at the sea. The gentle roll of the surf is entrancing. Under different circumstances, she might be paying a shitload of money for the pleasure of catching some sun on this island. String bikini, sunglasses, a drink with a fucking fruit salad in it... She probably couldn't even afford a vacation like that. The waves keep brushing the tips of her boots. Finally it's too much for her to take.

"Motherfucker!" she hollers, rocketing to her feet to stalk towards the jungle. Her squelchy boots undermine her tantrum, but Deirdre is so pissed off that she can't even hear them. Picking up the first rock she finds as she keeps marching past the first few palm trees, she hurls it as hard as she can with a wordless roar. She hopes she brains the last member of some endangered species. She hopes she topples another poor stranded fucker's lean-to. Better yet, she hopes she hits the poor stranded fucker. Anything to drain this white-hot anger.

disingenuous

The ocean dropped her off on the island more than she swam to it as she wakes, still half-immersed in the ocean. Her eyes open in alarm, and salt water fills her mouth when it forms a shocked 'o'.

All Adelle remembers right before the crash is reaching for her purse and carry-on, clutching them to her chest like she would stuffed animals. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she looked at Valentin, and the rest was a blur.

She quickly pats herself, affirming that she's still alive, that she didn't drown. She looks around, grateful that her purse and carry-on managed to come with the same wave she did. It's then that it fully hits her, as she looks beyond her belongings to the rest of the island, just where she is and what happened.

"Valentin?" she calls out feebly at first. "Valentin?" Louder that time. She scrabbles up off the ground and looks around wildly, spinning, her head turning left and right. "Valentin! Where are you!"

Her breaths come quicker as fear creeps up her chest. "Valentin!" Her shout is desperate.

bricolaging

At the water supply, Alfred stands back as the fire finally begins to burst into life. It's a bit warm for it right now, but keeping it going will mean light and warmth when things get cold during the night. If things get cold. He's no idea what'll happen.

With a sigh, he sets about breaking off tree branches, throwing the dead ones to the pile he's set aside to be used as fuel and keeping hold of the live ones. They still need containers to boil the water, purification tablets, anything.

Annoyed, he drapes his jumper on the ground like a mat then sits on it, close by the fire. What an awful day. At least there's water here. And if Wilson did his job properly, there'll be other survivors coming by soon enough.

Hopefully they'll have food.

waniandmoon

Vincent is stumbling uselessly through the foliage, his carry-on still hanging from his shoulder, his damp wool jacket slung over the top of it. He's trying not to think too hard, too long about the situation, which is unusual and unfamiliar and distracts him from considering more practical things like marking his path as he fights his way through the greenery. He just needs some sort of makeshift shelter, some fresh water, and he'll be fine until rescue comes. Right? That's how it works, isn't it?

He hasn't seen anyone else yet, since leaving the plane, and he tries not to think too hard about that.

Instead he continues to walk, ignoring the heat and the mounting sense of despair in the back of his mind.

ex_ludo717

Of all the things Drake expected to be doing over Spring Break, playing Treasure Island is the one thing that hadn't crossed his mind. As he follows the trail of A's back to the beginning, he feels a perverse need to alter a few of them to B's, C's, and of course, D's. He doesn't, though, for giving in to the small urges only makes way for bigger lapses later, and he's not about to traverse that route. Not unless the gain far outweighs the risk. He snorts, inwardly, for that factor is the main one he used to decide on this early trip to Australia. The gain outweighed the risk, was was he'd thought, and now look at him. He's stuck on an island searching for running water and writing FOLLOW THE A'S on a beach.

Alfred seems alright though, which is a plus. Most people would be panicking in that situation, but the Brit seems to have a sensible head on his shoulders. No histrionics there.

When Drake breaks out of the trees, he's almost surprised to realise how much the leafy canopy had been protecting him from the sun's glare. The heat hits him hard, and its with a muted sigh that he realises he's going to be red as a lobster within a day or two without sunblock available. Damn plane restrictions.

He stops at a clear part of the beach, the bit he'd found Alfred on. A few more bits of flotsam have washed up, and so he takes the time to harry what he can reach together. There's no way on earth he's going back into the water, so his discoveries are limited to a few soggy looking packets of what looks to be food, and another first aid kit. Someone's carry-on appears to be lodged in a sandbank, too, but it's a small distance away. It can wait.

Taking his stick, he digs the tip into the sand, making the scraped out shape as deep as he can so it won't immediately fill itself in.

FOLLOW THE A'S - WATER

If the tides are washing things up there, he should probably repeat the message a few times along the same beach. With that in mind, he kicks off his shoes and moves off towards the abandoned carry-on.

allbarkandnobite

There's no time to consider anything beyond survival when escaping a plane wreck. Kaoru's mind was focused on swimming in the direction of land and hoping against hope that it was both real and inhabited by people that could help.

It is real. Kaoru walks once he reaches the shore, finding some pocket of willpower that disdained crawling onto the beach like some half-starved waif. His head may still pound, that swim may have been the only thing more terrifying than the fact their plan crashed onto open ocean and he didn't know how close they were either to LA or to Australia, and in retrospect was far more terrifying than the plane crash/ocean landing because of the nature of Australian fauna...

"This week hasn't been bad enough already?" he shouts, glaring at the sky. God was always a questionable concept to Kaoru, but it wasn't like he had anyone else to yell at or blame for this entire mess. "You had to crash the plane on top of everything else? Really?"

It's not the most inspired speech, but his head hurts. He looks across, instead of up, and notices how utterly blank the horizon looks.

Kaoru turns and looks behind him. Palm trees, tropical flora. It could be any of the tropical ecological zones.

No civilization. No sounds but the other people crawling out of the ocean, looking bedraggled.

He crumples as the reality of what happen sinks in, landing on his knees in the soft sand. The ocean-water laps at his knees as he stares out at the horizon again.

Stop worrying, I'll call when I get there. I promise.

Naoki was going to kill him.

brightlywound

She sputters into the sand, water working its way out of her lungs. Slowly, she inches one leg forward, then the other, pushing her soaked body towards the treeline. Her skin is raw and red where it's been exposed, but that's certainly better than blue. The last thing she remembers is trying to rouse someone into swimming only to find that the back of their head was caved in.

It's like something out of one of her movies. Marnie pushes the hair from her face and untangles herself from her laptop case. Things like this don't simply happen. How can something so unlikely come about by chance? She glugs up more water as she finally gets to her feet. The heels are kicked off without a thought as she scans the shore. Debris dots the sand, a sign that this is real or that her imagination is much better than she ever thought. A briefcase, half-buried in sand, draws her attention.

"Annie!" she screams. Where's Annie? "Alex!"

All at once, reality hits her. She's alone in an unfamiliar place, possibly injured, possibly without food and drinkable water. Marnie grits her teeth, tears welling already. "Annie!"

bricolaging

This...is not good.

Alfred is almost certain he's in some sort of shock as he sits up and feels sand beneath his fingers. What happened? The plane crashed, he somehow managed to fail to die, then obviously there was some space in time that his memories are refusing to fill in- then...what, exactly?

Then the shore, apparently.

At least his carry-on is still with him, he notices blearily. It's clasped so tight in his left hand it feels odd to loosen his grip. Shaking the last bits of unconsciousness off he stands cautiously, trying to check to see if anything's broken. When his body seems fine he wades out into the water, wondering what he should do. Call for help? Check for rescuers? Swim out to the plane to help any trapped survivors? His insides shiver at that last part. The thought of swimming out to a plane full of bodies to rescue anyone trapped inside in an air bubble or whatever only to be trapped inside himself with all the bloated cadavers makes him want to retch.If anyone's still alive and trapped inside- well. They'd probably die before he found them anyway. He can't even see the plane any more; not from here.

What he can see, drawn towards the shore on a current, is a small but recognisable green first aid package. He intercepts it and wades back to the shoreline, hooking his carry-on as he does so.

"Hello?" Perhaps he's not the only one here. Hopefully he's not the only one here. God, he does not have the mental strength of Tom Hanks. It'll take more than a volleyball with a face painted on it to keep him sane. "Please tell me I'm not the only one to survive. Hello? I really wouldn't be able to forgive any of you if you all buggered off and died on the plane."

He's doing his best to keep his voice calm, but a few notes of panic still shine through.

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Cast Adrift - a cast away game

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