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Realistic or Modern Stranded (Small Group Role-play)

Azalea

Elder Member

Introduction will be posted here.


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Willow D. Blake allowed a hefty, irritated sigh to bubble from her lightly glossed lips as she gazed out of the plane's tiny, probably germ-infested window, peering at the dark expanse of the starless night sky through the hard glass as if it alone would cure her of her rather severe case of boredom. Eventually losing interest in the outside environment, the young student tore her blue gaze from the window, drumming manicured nails against her bare knee absently-mindedly as her fellow peer seated beside her stirred in their sleep, murmuring a few words that sounded suspiciously like jelly and chocolate.


Resisting the urge to shake the sleep-overtaken person awake, and demand that they talk to her, Willow let out a louder groan, communicating her boredom through the noise. She glanced about her external environment briefly, gauging those about herself's reactions to the startling noise. As far as she could see, no one, (save for the flight attendant, who shot her the fifth glare of the day, and hissed "shh" as she ran bony fingers through her bottle-blond hair in an irritated manner) even acknowledged the loud noise. Giving up on the plea for attention as her thoughts turned to their current destination, glorious thoughts of sandy beaches and salt-water spas begin to pop into her head, fill her thoughts to the brim.


A rare smile upturned the brunettes lips at the very though of their soon to be location; Australia. The relaxation and down-time that came with their vacation was a major contrast from the school's strenuous work and no play sensibility that students had to undergo to avoid failing the schools many time-demanding courses. Of course Willow, being a hard-working and ambitious student willingly under-went the needed tasks to get the best grades, the best of everything.


Pushing a dark lock behind her ear as her thoughts turned to the short letter she'd been fortunate enough to receive from her constantly traveling parents only an hour ago. A frown crossed her pale face, down-turning her lips, darkening her eyes as she remembered just how short it had been, how uncaring it had sounded. She knew her mother's butler had probably written it, and they'd taken a few minutes out of their precious, sweet time to sign it before the letter was sent. Most likely, her siblings all had copies of the same exact letter.


That's just how much they care.


The thought of crying, just to provoke some sympathy from the others drifted to her mind, but she pushed it away, not wanting to take the energy needed to generate the tears that fell much to easily.


Bump!


The plane shook for a moment, as if they'd hit an object of some sort, The loud speakers went on with a buzz, before one of the flight attendant's reedy voice begin to echo about the plane. "We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! Its perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worry." Willow let out a breath of air she hadn't been aware that she'd been holding, her worries stilled at the pilots words. Glancing out the window of her seat, Willow took in the dark, somehow comforting sky before tearing her eyes away. A formless, lighter shape danced in the corner of her vision, and Willow leaned forward, once more staring out the window. "What is that?" she whispered the words to herself as she tried to figure out what it was.


It was getting closer and closer to their plane. Finally making out the familiar shape, Willow's blood froze. It was another plane, this one much smaller then their own but still large enough to damage theirs. Glancing towards the front of the plane, she noticed no figures of authority, such as the flight attendant seemed too worried. Her lips parting as she prepared to voice a warning, she was unprepared for the collision that shook that plane. Screams from all directions. Pain in her side where the glass from the window had embedded her. Dizziness. Then a shockingly lucid clarity. We are all going to die.


This revelation however, didn't fill her with sadness strangely. Only a faint understanding of just how meaningless her life had been.Who actually had liked her in life? Who had loved her? What had she done to deserve life?


"I just want a chance... To live." uttered from hopeful lips.


Then the plane spiraled downwards.
 
Teagans nimble fingers rolled a bead back and fourth absent mindedly. Twisting it along the string that held it in the loop that encased her wrist. The dark haired girl had begun this habit many years ago when her addiction to bracelets had begun. Which was shortly after her father announced she would be attending the prestigious academy. She had heard of it before. Whispers of the students wealth and intelligence. But had never truly believed them until she laid eyes on its inhabitants. Strong jawed males with powerful minds and beautiful girls with a wicked ability to rake back the A's. All of which pushed her to achieve her absolute best grade. Which in all honesty weren't that great. But to her it was a massive step up from her usual marks. Of course another factor was that she couldn't play on the schools soccer team if she was failing everything. Clearly pushing her to obtain an average GPA.


Out of the corner of her eye, the girl could see Willow. Somebody who she had never truly befriended but had spoken to for assignments or in between classes. She appeared to be bored to tears, the groan escaping her lips evidence of that. Teagans eyes scanned the rest of the cabin, noting the brother-sister duo whom she knew from classes and the pair of brothers who were a few rows back. A thin smile played across her lips as usual, her pearly whites concealed by her neutral-shaded lips. Her companions on their trip to her dream destination; Australia, were either talking amiably or in their own worlds. One even was asleep from what she could tell.


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Lauren had been sitting near the front of the plane, dazed off and complacent as she listened to her current song of the week. Which happened to change much too frequently. Currently it was Viva la Vida by Coldplay, as her pale pink lips formed the words as she gazed out the window into the nothingness that was the sky. White fluffy clouds that floated below them passed by her window as the plane bumped on a pocket of cold air. It was not uncommon to experience turbulence, but it sure as hell scared her out of her trance. Looking around the cabin, she saw the others noticed it too. Judging by their reactions, she assumed it startled them just as much. "We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! Its perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worry." The captain said over the system, to the obvious relief of the students.


So assured by the captains words, she flicked her IPod on once more and selected another song. A small sigh escaped her lips and she rested her head against the rest, sending her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Moments passed, as did verses. Choruses repeating. Slowly she looked out the window and settled back into her daze, watching the blue sky dance around clouds. Only to see a rectangular shape emerge from behind a cloud. Its presence didn't permeate her consciousness, only resided to exist in the back of her mind. As the final note of Cry Me a River rang through her ears, the two planes collided. Shattering the glass in the window she had been gazing out, sending it flying to cut into the side of her cheek.
 
Phoenix takes a sip of juice from the box given to him by the nice stewardess. It was disgusting; strawberry and grape? Blech. But, it was the only thing they could give them. No Coke, no Dr. Pepper, nothing. And everyone aboard knew they had delicious treats stashed away in the back: chips, peanuts, soda, pre-made sandwiches, the works. And all the students could have was disgusting juice and graham crackers.


He huffs, his shoulders rising and falling. He took to his Device, a modified HTC One that could use wireless signals to override viruses and firewalls to make things happen. And Phoenix wanted to have some fun. He sets his empty juice box down on the tray in front of him and turns it on. It gives him a purple interface to screw around with. He presses the screen on an icon. There's a slight delay...



And then the plane shakes, having momentarily lost all piloting mechanisms. Luckily, it only lasted 2 seconds and the plane never lost altitude. It began to, but it never did.



The students and liaisons all raise their heads, shocked and scared at the sudden "turbulence." Phoenix waits.



"We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! It's perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worrying."





Phoenix's body racks as he shakes with silent fits of laughter. He could've done it again, but huge actions like that drained battery quickly. He'd probably do something smaller, like release the air masks from their positions above everyone's head, or momentarily take over the head liaison's laptop and threaten him for $2,000,000 or he'll drop the plane.



"What is that?" the girl in front of him says aloud. What was her name? Wilma? Winona?



Suddenly worried his trick had some long-lasting effects, Phoenix says something.



"What is it-UGGHH!" The plane does a nosedive before he can get an answer. Everyone in it screams, including the head liaison. Phoenix's stomach reaches the back of his throat, and he accidentally releases a torrent of bile. Before anything else can happen, he stuffs his Device into his jacket pocket.


There's a huge collision, and the last thing Phoenix heard is a faint ringing over screams of agony.
 
To be quite honest, Thomas Locke never had, and never would have any desire to travel to Australia to seek out enjoyment in the carefully preserved beaches and the pompous spas that boasted of excellence... It seemed such a waste to him that the academy had selected blatant relaxation that could have easily been sought in a country of any wealth, instead of perhaps studying the origin of the continent's aboriginal people. Sighing lightly, Locke let his fingertips slide thoughtfully down the thin graded page of his book, watching as the back cover fell shut due to the overwhelming pressure placed upon it's spine. And yet, despite his discrepancies about accompanying his peers on a seemingly meaningless vacation that bore no relation the studious reputation of his school, Locke had still opted to prepare his luggage and board the surprisingly classless plane that would carry them to their destination. He attempted to persuade himself the only reason he decided to come along was because of the possible opportunity to visit the National Library of Australia, but no matter how persistent his arguments were, he was well aware of the true cause for his departure... Locke could not possibly look upon their faces any longer; the silent, red-eyed face of his prematurely aging mother, and the obtrusive, alcohol-laden voice of his father plagued him more than he ever wished to admit. He had to get away, and Australia could have been the only reasonable option available for him.


Closing his eyes against the darkening, molten sky of the evening surrounding him, Locke rested his face in his palms, earning a rather contemptuous look from the younger, light-haired boy currently seated adjacent from him. Locke ignored him, briefly recalling the unpleasant conversation the two had held within the first few minutes of meeting each other... Despite his general toleration of idiotic people and things, Locke still did not particularly enjoy being called a two-faced knicker-licker, which for one, failed to add 's' to the end of 'knicker', and two, was a completely unnatural idea. Needless to say, the other boy in turn did not seem to appreciate his insults being corrected.


Placing his book gently under the seat in front of him, Locke leaned back against the overly stuffed cushion of his seat, inwardly questioning the plane designers' motives... He really should not fall asleep, he still had to continue his reading on Alan Turing before said book was due for return, but the temptation of sleep grew stronger with each passing moment. Just as he felt the final strand of exhaustion finally slip away, the plane jerked suddenly, tearing Locke violently back into the conscious world. The sneer-faced boy sitting next to him pressed his face against the window for a better look, cursing profusely as a second shake slammed his head to the glass. Locke could not help but smirk slightly as the boy turned back to him with a glare. The frightened murmur of worried voices rang through the plane's interior, yet Locke forced down his own doubt of it's stability. He had accompanied his parents many times when he was younger on planes... This was simply rough turbulence. It had to be nothing.


"We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! Its perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worry." A female voice announced over the intercom, her voice buzzing with static. Locke felt himself let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, yet his chest still tingled uncomfortably. He turned back to the aisle, expecting to see wandering people rush hastily to their seats as the turbulence increased. Instead, he caught sight of a familiar face...small smile as crooked as the boy's teeth... Hobbes. Before Locke had time to process what he was seeing, the floor dropped out from underneath him, and unrelenting screams deafened his ears as he plunged towards the ground.
 
Erik tightly gripped the arm of the chair as a drop of sweat dribbled down his face. His eyes stuck on the ceiling of the plane, and his feet firmly stamped onto the ground. A wave of unease flowed over him like a wave of water. He bit his lower lip as he breathed heavily. "Mom always said you never were the best flyer Erik," His brother Randy kept his eyes glued to the National Geographic in his hands. He had been reading a bland article about extinct species and revving them."You don't say?" Erik's voice hinted with a tone of sarcasm, but the unease was still present. "I read somewhere that the chances of us dying on the car ride to the airport are higher then getting in a plane crash." Randy took another pinch from the bag of peanuts provided by the airline and looked up from the magazine. The plane was awfully quiet as Randy surveyed the passengers around him.


Randy ran his shoes through the blue carpet beneath his feet. He laid back on the pillowed chair behind him. In the row in front of him was Willow, a girl Randy never thought much of, but only began really noticing her now. "Hey Randy," "Yeah?" "What's the first thing your gonna do in Australia." "I'm gonna grab a boomerang 'n' hunt down a few kangaroos 'n' koalas cobber," His Australian voice was something he'd been practicing for a while. "And you..?" "I don't know...maybe visit Eden Park." Randy's gaze turned to Erik as a smile flashed over his face. "Smart ass, Eden Park is New Zealand, not Australia." An expression of confusion flooded Erik's face. "You Sure..? The Giant Rugby stadium..?" "Yeah, that's Eden Pa-" Randy was interrupted by a jolt the shook Erik and Randy's seats.



Erik wedged his fingers between the arm rests as he inhaled deeply. "We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! Its perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worry." The Captain's voice rang out over the loud speaker. "Jesus Erik, calm down..." Erik's face once again filled with an expression of fear. "S-Sorry.." Randy peered out the window that he had been sitting next to. It had been covered by the clouds earlier, but now seemed clear as glass.



Erik's arm quickly reaches for Randy's shoulder as they and the plane jolt forward, screams filled the air, but Randy only listened to the screams of his brother. "Randy!" Erik screamed out as Randy struggled to keep his eyes open. He felt pushed back in his chair as the plane made a large cracking sound as he impacted with the ground.
 
At an altitude of 39,000 feet between the land, the seas, and the sky, sitting on an overly stuffed, dark grey seat in a transportation that can defy gravity, all Lois Hawke can think about is how much she'd want to let her knuckles kiss her brother's lip, to wipe away the smug grin plastered on his face. The young woman can feel the blood rush towards her cheeks as she reflected on her new found desire for small violence, which left her feeling conflicted considering the pacifist that she is. As her pale blue eyes met the green ones of the person beside her, the blonde couldn't help but to raise a single brow and bite her lower lip; a habit that she had developed during her younger years when she wanted no part in a conversation that she can't escape from.


"You know, if you were a fruit-"


"I wasn't asking Nate."


"No, no hear me out. It's only going to take a second, I swear it. So-"


Lois let a small sigh escape her lips as she turned her attention elsewhere, completely tuning out her brother's ridiculous attempt to persuade her that she currently looks like a ripe tomato. She already knew the fact taking into account the curse that is her pale complexion. Lois had always dreamed of travelling to another country, and ever since the talk about a class trip to Australia had surfaced, she couldn't contain her excitement. Everything about it is promising; the four month stay, the sparkling beaches, the curious wildlife, and the diversity of people. Everything about the trip is perfect, except for one small detail: the mode of transportation.


"I know that you're absolutely terrified of fl-"


"Oh what was that? You can't sleep witho-"


"Okay, I get it perfectly well."


Nathaniel Hawke held up both hands in resignation, which earned him a small smile from his sister.


"Hey you should thank me. My utter brilliance just took your mind off of it."


"I honestly have no idea as to what you're talking about, other than your conceited nature."


"Ouch. Shot through the heart, and you're to blame-"


The blonde smiled as she listened to her brother sing an old, familiar song under his breath. She had to admit that he did manage to take her mind off of silly things, such as her fear of falling. If only Nate would return to his old self as before, she's certain that he'll be accepted by his peers and classmates again. For the first time after a couple of restless hours during flight, Lois began to close her eyes and give in to the comforts of her seat.




The ground beneath her feet began to wobble and split apart. A little boy gripped her hand tightly as disembodied voices began to scream around her. Static began to fill her ears as a reedy voice calmly spoke amid the chaos. "Turbulence! I suggest worry!" Lois shut her eyes as the familiar, sinking sensation began to engulf her along with the wind. As she fell, the last thing she can remember is a strong pair of arms wrapped around her as she plunged to the empty void below.
 
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Willow awoke to pain. An excruciating, unyielding pain that caressed the length of her hip, tracing a deep, dark line down to her mid-thigh, where the glass windows glass had cut into the now bruised skin. The soft, squishy surface of one of the many seats that had littered the plane seemed to have shielded her landing, as she was otherwise unharmed. A dense grey fog still entrapped her memories, and attempts at scouring the obscure bits of memory for the events of yesterday seemed to be of no avail. Blue eyes slid open, before closing as much too bright light assaulted her previously light-deprived vision. Blinking a few times as her eyes finally adjusted to the light and her unfamiliar surroundings, Willow took in the dark blue movement of water, lapping at the golden sand visible from one side of her vision, as well as filling the inside of the already mostly submerged plane. Or what remained of it anyway. Part of the left side of the plane seemed to have been torn away, and the whole back section had already sunk into the dark, mysterious water.


Oh god. The plane.


Previously submerged memories danced into Willow's head, flooding her mind with the memories prior their crash.


How many are dead?


This depressing though drifted to Willow's mind, and pushing it away, the girl tried to focus on the positive.


"At least I'm alive." she voice her thoughts unconsciously.


Getting to her feet, before falling right back down as pain sliced through her leg, Willow felt a sob bubble free from her throat as tears flowed freely from her eyes.


Crying is weakness. Crying is weakness. Crying is weakness.


She repeated the words in her head as she got to her feet once more, trying to distract herself from the overbearing pain.


"Someone... Someone help me!"


Willow's eyes drifted towards the direction of the sound, taking in a boy's barely visible form being crushed underneath one of the plane's many collapsing walls. He was barely holding the sharp metal away from his body with his two sweating hands. Wait, was that blood?


Blood coated his arms, his legs, so much of the liquid.


Willow stood transfixed for a moment.


"Your just gonna watch? Help me!"


The boys angrily spoken words pulled her from her thoughts and Willow found herself able to move again.


"I'll - I'll..." Willow stumbled through her words as she rushed over, attempting at pulling the slab of metal away from his body. She had never had much strength in her arms, and she could see her attempts at helping him only seemed to hinder the progress of them getting the metal off of his bleeding oh so much blood legs.


"Someone help us!" Willow managed, before ducking to the side to vomit up her lunch.
 
Snooze gently, Daniel.


Stevens was awoken again by relentless mares of the night, to plague the green fields that was their vacation. His father's old fragile finger, thinned and withered away, the bone nearly apparent through the skin. His mother, dying and white, managing thereby a faint smile to bandage Stevens's heart. To no avail, he'd wept.


Beside him, Daniel boyishly giggled in wherever his imaginations had taken him. Stevens smiled in trace proportions, and glanced beyond the glass covering making the window. The grandiose night contrasted his dreams, mumbling strange lullabies to ease the oldest's tempest. What initial commotion there was aboard left no demanding mark on Stevens's slowly ceasing vision.


"We're experiencing a little bit of turbulence! It's perfectly normal, so I suggest none of you worry."


Wa- huh? Both the brothers arose from their slumber, although both eyeing different instances for the noise. Stevens was the first, being he the better experienced, to realize it was the captain's intercom, and thought naught of the circumstance. He pinched Daniel's arm and whispered him back to rest.


Daniel complied.


Only to be reawoken by his older brother's screams. "Get up! We're going down! Hold onto somethi-"


Stevens hugged his younger brother in time to push the face against his chest.


Down they went.


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Agony ripped through his entire body, the jolt evoking blood, Stevens. The blond gazed eerily at the corpse as it were on top of him, head pressuring his chest.


For the moment, he forgot all he knew. Then hurricanes of the mind swarmed his existence.


Oh no...



A tear rolled down his face, the pain thus the burden, and Daniel thus the weight, as if to stop the valves of his heart from delivering.


Oh no... Oh no...


Nevertheless, he moved Daniel pacifistically, and hurriedly, beside himself and checked his breathing.


Negative.


(Sorry for the late!)
 
"Shit..."





Phoenix can only grunt out expletives as pure pain courses through his thin frame. He feels something beneath him; metal, maybe, or wood. He doesn't dare open his eyes, in fear that if he does, he'll just die.


Although it already felt as if he did.



He takes in his surroundings without his sense of sight. The air is warm, nice, nearly tropical. Temeperate's the right word. He's
definitely not on the jet. He feels something cold and wet lap slowly against his foot, which is submerged in the substance.


Water.



Immediately, he sits upright, his eyes opening all the way. He's not on land. The ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see. He knows that behind him... behind him lies carnage and gore from the collision.



The chance collision of two planes.



Not letting the sobs escape him, he turns around. Already knowing there'd be horrible sights, it wasn't much of a surprise to see charred and bloodied body upon charred and bloodied body in the sea. Luggage and the such floated next to the dead children, his fucking classmates, along with liaisons and stewardesses. The rest of the plane was in front of him, missing it's left wing.



Was he alone? The thought alone scared him more than any horror movie he'd ever seen. But, in the distance, movement caught his eye. On a huge island about half a mile from where Phoenix was sitting, a girl dragged herself ashore, along with two boys, one of whom looked to be dead.






"Hey! Hey, are you guys-" He's interrupted by a fit of coughing, his lungs heaving, coughing up salty seawater and bits of kelp. He then sees what has been acting as his raft for the better part of an hour.


He was sitting on the left wing of the plane.



Phoenix thanked God for the wing and kissed it. As he lay upon it, he felt something hard in his breast pocket. The Device. He whips it out and pushes the power button, praying it still works.



The purple interface greets him, although it gives him no options as to what he can do. If there was any tech on the island ahead, he'd be able to manipulate it to his and any other survivors' advantage, although there seemed to be no other survivors.



He puts away the Device and gets to one side of the wing. He puts both hands in, which are now sporting various cuts and burn marks. They burn incessantly, saltwater getting inside the wounds. He powers through this as he begins to row, getting closer and closer to the island.
 
Randy's eyes threw open as he gasped for air, his back laid firmly on the sand that he had impacted on. In his mouth, the taste of metal and salt swished around...Blood. He pushed himself up as he peered around at the surroundings around him. A sandy beach lined by ocean and jungle. An Island?.


His focus quickly turned to finding his brother. Ahead of him, about 20 feet is where most of the debris was. The plane's fuselage had been torn into two. The seats and other bits and parts of the plane had been scattered around the beach.
It looks like one of Erik's Lego piles in the living room. Randy began rushing himself to the crash in search of his brother, "Erik!..Erik!" His eyes had fallen upon the body of one of his fellow classmates, he had been thrown on his back and probably died upon impact.


Randy knew his voice was now quivering in hopes his brother was still alive. "E-Erik?" He continued stepping over the luggage, debris, and seats searching for anything indicating his brother was near.



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Erik's face streamed with tears as his palms pushed against the sand. Blood dripped down the gash the marked on his shoulder. "R-Randy?" He rolled back onto his back as he stared blankly at the sky above him.



Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones.


The nearby sound of his brothers voice rang in the background. It sounded muffled and distorted, but it still kept a strange clarity. "Randy!" Erik lifted himself and ran toward the sight of his brother, "Randy!"
 
Small lights dotted her vision, like fairy lights. The small dots clouded her vision, only keeping her momentarily distracted by her childhood fantasies before the unbearable pain engulfed her. Teagan had landed in the shallows of the water, where not only the ground was, but a large rock that seemed to exist only to cause her pain. A small moan escaped her lips as she shook her vision clear of the lights that concealed the horrors around her revealing the wreckage, survivors and the unlucky. Despite the searing pain in her leg and the throbbing of her head, she pushed herself into a sitting position and surveyed the site.


She was hit with a wave of nausea as she realized that the water around her was a pale pink. The salt water mingled with the metallic crimson liquid that was stronger to her left. Slowly turning her head, her stomach bracing itself for what she was about to see she rested her gaze on a mangled body, oozing the liquid into the water from almost every part of their body.



Dead. That was all the body could be.



Sounds of survivors calling for loved ones slowly became clearer but she could not tear her eyes away from the body before her. How could this be true? Be real? This was only a dream. She thought longingly but knew that it could not be a dream, for her imagination could not concoct a scenario so vivid as to resonate through her and create physical pain that was no fabrication. She raised her arm, wiping hair coated in a thin layer of blood from her eyes to truly take in the scene around her.



Time seemed slow as she rose shakily, turning in a circle slowly. Not focusing clearly. Maybe it was from the shock or the blow to the head but Teagan was trance. Shocked by her surroundings, wanting to help those who called out but unable to move. Unable to process the girl who cried by one of the seats that was on fire further up the beach. Something told her it was time to move away from the water. Not only for her safety but because of the plane sinking into the water and leaking any excess fuel into the water. One foot after the other, she made her way slowly to the girl who was bleeding from a cut on her cheek and was rocking back and forth.



-----------------------------------



Alive.



The girl repeated this over and over in her head as she rocked, sobbing into the crook of her elbow. How long had it been since she had cried this hard? 2, no, 3 years? That was irrelevant however, as she was now crying enough to make up for those years. Maybe the uncontrollable shaking and tears were some form of punishment for surviving the crash. Though she wanted to thing otherwise, the usually positive girl was broken down from the very thought.



The smell of burning fabric made the hairs inside her nose tingle and her lungs burn from the carcinogenic black smoke that rose in tendrils around her. Though it began mingling with blood as it dripped down her face watered down by the tears. She was afraid to open her eyes, to see her surroundings. The plane. Her classmates. Who ever was speaking feet away to a boy, most likely Willow but that could just as easily be an illusion. A figment of her imagination. Letting out another sob that racked her body, she heard a small, timid voice. One that was so soft she was unsure it was even there.



"Hello? Are you.. okay?"



Raising her head from her protective arm barrier, she cracked open one eye to be sure that the voice indeed was there. Proving she wasn't crazy. To her surprise and admittable pleasure, she met the eyes of Teagan who looked absolutely terrible. Though she didn't look any better. Lifting her head into an upright position and opening her eyes fully, she looked at her through tear soaked eyelashes. No reply forth coming.



Then as another drop of water rolled down her face, the dark haired girl spoke again. "Lauren?". The girl says slowly as if unsure she was even correct. Her tears still formed and rolled down her cheeks, but the gasping, sounds that came from her throat ceased and the girl collected her thoughts enough to reply. Her light pink lips formed words. "I'm... Okay. Are you?"



Lauren blinked in time to see Teagan nod, wince and then walk to the tree line to rest up against a tree. Perhaps to relieve her strained body of the strenuous task.



-----------------------------------


(Apologies for spelling and grammar issues)


 
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In her nightmare, the plane had crashed. Lois slowly opened her eyes, only to find herself still surrounded by the same, gruesome scene. It was mangled and crushed, torn and disfigured, so different from its surroundings that screamed of life. The plane stood out from the greens and blues, like a patch of dry ground on a rainy day. But it was not just the smoke and the scent of gas that set it off from the scene; it was not just the cracked windows and ripped cushions, or the charred debris strewn around the ground like the aftermath of a child’s play. It was the smell. A certain smell that is hard to miss. The scent attracted the buzz of flies and the presence of tiny insects. The smell could have sent women to weep and men to frown and turn away. The plane, laying amid the sweet scent of dew and pine, stank of death and early decay.


"
This- this can't be real," Lois whispered frantically as she tried to push herself up, wincing from the pain that surged through her right arm in the process. Something warm beneath her had cushioned her fall, earning her just a few cuts from splinters of glass and a couple of bruises that dotted her right thigh. As she coughed from the dark the smoke that assaulted her nose and clouded her vision, she felt tears roll down her cheeks. "Don't cry right now," she chided herself, "Get up and find your brother." With a deep breath, Lois pushed herself up only to slip on something that made her fall right back on her knees.


"
Oh my God, Nate!" Halfway between the sand and the pink shore, Nathaniel Hawke lay bloody and unconscious. Lois gingerly crawled over to him, noticing the burn that snaked from the left side of the lower base of his neck, past his jaw, and up to the tip of his left ear. His right leg was bleeding profusely, having been caught between a large chunk of aluminum debris and something that resembled an engine. "Wake up, please wake up Nate," Lois cried as she repeatedly tapped his cheek. After what seemed like an eternity, Nathaniel finally regained consciousness. "Lois, what-- Are you okay?" The blonde shook her head and began to work on his leg. "We're in the middle of a crash site, your leg is spewing blood as fast as the bloody Niagara Falls and I think-- I think most of the people in the plane is dead. Of course I'm not okay Nate. Can you feel your leg?" Her brother however was still in a state of confusion to be of any help. "Someone please help us! Anyone?!" Lois shouted, "My brother is severely injured! Please, we need someone to move the debris!"
 
The sloshing of the oceans, the tumble of the seas.


The darkness split with pleas, the survivors few and between.


Stevens draped the body of his brother onto his arms, and walked silently in the direction of the ever changing wind. He was not sure how long he marched, nor had he cared, until the weight upon his forearms crushed the skin and skewered the beginning layers of muscle. To agony, our dear friend, awake us from our sorrow.


"...meone please help us! Anyone?! ... other is severely injured! Pleas ... someone to move the debris!"


And so it was with Stevens. He looked up sharply to witness both a blond girl and a darker haired boy struggle in the ruins of the crash site. Then, he wiped hurriedly what tears had sneaked onto his face, and set the body on his arms to a makeshift wall, a collection of plane apparatus, that the body should lean back.


Stevens examined the pair and ripped a patch from his shirt. Tucking the patch in his teeth, then, the boy says, "Pressure on the leg, Miss, squeeze it firmly." He pushed an encampment of sweat gleaned hair from his forehead. "I'll move the junk on top of him."
 
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To Phoenix's immense relief, there seemed to be more and more people coming ashore. That meant the captain may still be alive.


There may still be a chance.



But until they found the captain, they were indefinitely stuck on this island. As Phoenix slowly paddles to shore in the wing of the plane, he looks at the island in the sun. He sees his classmates, some known, some not, wash up. One girl's screams could be heard from his position on the wing, yelling about her brother getting hurt under some debris. Then, there was the faintest call of "Randy... Randy..." from somewhere on the island.



It takes Phoenix a whole grueling 20 minutes to wash up ashore like the rest of the plane's inhabitants. He pants, his arms swollen and on fire from the non-stop paddling. Phoenix takes care not to get his Device wet; if there was any technology anywhere, he'd be able to manipulate it.



Once he can get into a standing position, he purveys the area, eyes watering. The closest situation to him is the girl and her brother, whose leg gushes crimson blood like a geyser. He decides it would be best to go and help her. He takes a step forward...



And immediately trips over the charred body of the Head Liaison.



He screams, pushing his way across the sand, the tiny granules chafing his body. He felt her blackened, burnt flesh against his bare calves; it was horrid.



"Goddammit! EUGH!" He rolls himself into a tight ball, shielding himself from the world. In this fetal state, the direness of the situation dawned on him. He'd never see the twins, his mother, nor his sister.


And he might die a virgin.



He begins to cry. Not just cry; he begins to sob. Wail, rather. Like a toddler. He didn't like this, not one bit.



What would happen in the days to come?
 
Other pleas, other survivors voices filled Willow's ears as she wiped the bile from her lips. Disgusting. That's all you are. Disgusting. How did you manage to survive when so many other deserving souls died? Pessimistic thoughts fell away as an unfamiliar voice drifted to her ears.


He was instructing another girl to apply pressure to her leg, and that quickly brought Willow's attention back to her own wound.


Yes. Yes. That was the practical thing to do after all. Tearing a strip of fabric from the end of her skirt as she squeezed it about her upper thigh, ignoring the faint pain that still erupted from the wound. Much to her relief, the flow of blood eventually stopped. Tying the fabric around the wound tightly to prevent the flow of any excess blood, Willow gathered her bearings as she got to her feet. Allowing her eyes to drift about herself once more as she took in her surroundings, blue eyes fell on calmly moving water, tinged red with the blood of many. Many corpses, or what remained of their burned bodies were beginning to float to the surface of the water. Resisting the urge to vomit once more, Willow tore her eyes away from the bloodied water as she returned her attention to the boy still being crushed under the rubble.
 
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Help arrived in the form of a young man with a strong frame, who has the ghost of tears present on his cheeks and from the corners of his sad, blue eyes. Lois thought that was an odd sight, to see someone look so robust but fragile at the same time. But with the stench of blood, ashes, and metal all around them, it did not look strange for too long. From the moment someone is born, they're already old enough to die. Death embraces anyone it likes, and once it did, it will never let them go. Young or old, affluent or penniless, death does not judge; it comes and goes as it pleases. And when it takes someone by the hand, they disappear for all eternity, with only the ghost of their smiles and the old photographs of their faces left as a reminder that they were once there, in flesh and blood.


"
Pressure on the leg, Miss, squeeze it firmly." Lois nodded and gingerly placed both of her hands on her brother's injured leg, then squeezing firmly. She bit her lip to keep the contents of her stomach to herself, a metallic taste blossoming in her mouth as her lip began to bleed from the pressure. She watched as her brother try to keep his eyes open, but from the increase in his breath and from the way he's struggling, it appears as if he's losing the battle. But he'll live, and she knows that. With her hands stained red, sticky with blood, sand, and sweat, Lois turned towards the blond with the sad, blue eyes and said, "Thank you," knowing that she'll be forever in his debt.
 
A sharp boom once the equipment has been hauled off, Stevens knelt beside the girl and her acquaintance. He flashes his teeth at she who likely is bewildered, while at the same time removing the crude bandage from his clenched mouth. Examining his would-be patient, Stevens presses his lips together in frustration. This won't do.


Silent, the boy tosses his bandage aside for three sticks, apparently abundant hereabouts. Rubbing two against the other for fire, he nods the girl to the side and breathes in. Looking at the injured and tossing the remaining stick to him, he voices, "Bite on this." And then breathing out, Stevens cauterizes the leg gash. Efficiency now, he quickly retrieves his cloth and ties it roughly on the burned flesh. He smiles hardly at the irony.


Afterward, the fair boy swipes his hand across his forehead and passes the girl, save for a short adage. "We all need rest now. The other hurts will disappear with time, although scars have naught respect for that."


Finally, omit not a small grin from boy to girl.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


To where Stevens had left his brother, he rests beside him, trying to make joy in these last blissful moments. The grandiose skies carry a sweet wind, caressing the dead and those destined for the dead.


When it is finished, the older takes a nearby metal with an edge and begins to pierce the ground. Time evaded him, just as scars neglect its owner dismissal of the terrible memory. His hands begin to bleed with fatigue.
 

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