Ace De Luca | Male | 26 years old | Group | Location: Shore | Mentions: [D] N/A [ID] Other survivors

Ace's eyes opened quickly and he attempted to suck in a breath. Instead, he coughed out disgusting salt water. His whole body was soaked from head to toe and his hair stuck to his forehead. He breathed heavily and his mind was blank. It was as if he didn't know what to think. Ace's face soon turned into one of confusion. 'Where am I? What happened?' All he could remember was being on the cruise with his mother and sirens were going off. He gasped loudly when realization hit. The ship sunk! He clambered up to his feet but they felt like jello. He looked around him to see over a dozen more people but none of them looked like his mother. She couldn't be...could she? He couldn't protect her. Ace flopped down on the ground and put his hands into his face ignoring all the others.

Melissa Monroe | Female | 24 years old | Solo | Location: Shore | Mentions: [D] N/A [ID] Other survivors

Melissa remembered everything that happened. She remembered that sirens blaring, the screams of multiple people, the water rushing over her body.. She powered through the salt water and crawled into the shore. Sand stuck to her drenched body and her breathing was deep. Other people were around but she didn't want a thing with them. Mel only cared about herself at the moment and she thought about a plans that she could escape which there wasn't any. She couldn't possibly swim to safety and who knows when help would arrive. Melissa stood up and looked around her. The whole island seemed to be of vegetation and thick forests. She sighed and started walking towards the first tree she saw.

Ketty Black | Female | 92 years old | “Solo” | Location: Shore | Mentions: [D] N/A [ID] Other survivors

Ketty grunted awake and her clothes were drenched but her makeup was still fine. She ran her hands through the sand and felt it beneath her wrinkly fingers. Where is she? She looked around her and to her surroundings and saw there was a lot of young people. Way younger than her. Ketty could remember that she was on a cruise to avoid paparazzi and then she ended up here. That meant… ”I'm actually alive!” She yelled out with her frail voice. How could a over 90 year old woman live? Nobody knows but if she was able to live this long, she could outlive this island. Ketty didn't want to get up quite yet, not to mention she couldn't really get up without somebody helping her, but because she was somehow at peace.

Darius Beaumont | Male | 25 Years old | Solo, May Join Group | Location: Shore | Mentions: [D] None [ID] Other survivors

Blistering hot sand was the first thing Darius felt as he awakened, the burning grains digging into his exposed neck and hands. With a strangled yelp, he scrambled upright, looking around wildly. His expression resembled a deer caught in headlights- startled, bewildered, mildly frightened. The last thing he remembered was being on the cruise, enjoying himself, and then suddenly, darkness. After that, his memory was gaping, filled with black emptiness. His eyes settled on the others, and a sense of both desperation and suspicion drove him to set off towards the treeline instead of assisting them. His rashness might cost him, he supposed, but at this particular moment all he wanted was shelter.

As he dove into the thick, heavy undergrowth, he immediately felt the prick of a thorn in his neck, and pulled it from his body. A thin trail of blood ran down into his shirt, and though it stopped rather quickly, Darius still felt drained. His first priority was now finding a place of safety, and perhaps after that he could tend to his mild wound. As he trekked through the dense jungle, his pace slowed, the heat already getting to him despite the thick canopy that was laced overhead. His lazy pace gave him time to examine his surroundings, checking for edible food and maybe a place to hide; so far, though, Darius saw nothing. He heard the low call of birds far above him, and with a slight shudder, he ducked lower, concealing himself with large-leafed plants.

[ Tobias Ahlström ]
Male • 28 Years • Group
Location: Shore • Mentions: {D} Ace

Tobias stumbled ashore, pulled onto the beach by Maximus. Without the dog he likely wouldn't have made it at all. The storm that caused the ship's destruction was too powerful to fight and he'd lost all sense of direction as his head was plunged beneath the rushing waves over and over again. When he finally managed to break the surface, desperately drawing in much needed oxygen, he had watched in absolute awe as Maximus seemed to cut through the savage waters, determined to reach him. Once his feet touched sand he released his hold on the young Belgian Malinois, falling to his knees and coughing up the salty liquid formally invading his lungs. He remained crouched on the coastline, breathing heavily before shakily rising to his feet, nearly stumbling backward before managing to regain his footing.

Maximus whined, ears folding back against his skull as he leaned against the side of Tobias' leg in search of reassurance. "It's alright buddy. We're okay," he forced out, a hand reaching to stroke the yearling's head. He scanned his surroundings, alarmed to find other bodies scattered around him. Some of them stirred...others didn't. Dread twisted his stomach into knots. He couldn't see Clara anywhere and his gaze drifted back down to Max. Why hadn't he stayed with her? He was Clara's dog, not his own. As Max stared up at him he could see love and adoration within the depths of his chocolate colored eyes and Tobias couldn't help the emotion tightening his throat. What had humans ever done to deserve dogs? "Good boy Max. I wouldn't have made it without you," he praised, hand ruffling the dogs ears in a way that always got him excited. Sure enough Max's ears perked and tail started in a rapid wag.

The sound of movement nearby had his head turning, watching as a blond man pulled himself to his feet only to slink back down to the ground moments later in grief. Tobias hesitated, unsure if he should approach and offer comfort or allow the man his sorrow. Things were...not exactly grand and even his optimistic self couldn't muster a smile nor an encouraging word at the moment. He found his feet carrying him toward Ace anyway, Max walkling closely at his side. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked gently, leaning closer and placing a hand on Ace's shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

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[ Viktor Kurylenko ]
Male • 23 Years • Solo (For Now)
Location: Shore • Mentions: {ID} Everyone

Viktor washed up on the island before the others. Why he couldn't say. How much of a head start he'd been granted he couldn't tell either. Time was lost to him now, shock numbing him to everything beyond his own survival. As it finally began to fade, rational thought replacing primal instinct, he made his way back to the beach. More people scrambled up the shore. Another man crashed into the undergrowth, disappearing among the foliage. Viktor considered following him, but instead pulled himself into a tree overhanging the beach, back leaning against the trunk as one leg stretched across the branch and the other hung over the side.

A hand rose to sweep soaked black hair back behind his ears, the other searching his pocket for the box of cigarettes he'd shoved into it before leaving his room on the boat. They were just as wet as the rest of him and disappointment had his expression souring. Robbed of his last smoke. What a tragedy. The cigarette practically crumbled in his hand and it let it slide from his palm and drop into the bushes below. "I suppose it is about time I quit," he muttered to himself. green eyes watching the other survivors as they struggled to find their footing, abandoned the others for their own self-preservation or else sought one another out to help. It was always interesting to see how people responded to a disaster.

Valentina Chapman
Group (Undefined) ; At the shore ; None directly mentioned

Like the thickest mist, her mind was clouded by an intense feeling of confusion and disorientation as she crawled away from the cold water that her clothes and hair had sucked in like a sponge. Salty water. Her throat burned with the taste, and even more as she coughed almost uncontrollably in an attempt to take out every drop that had made it to her lungs. It was more or less impossible, but after a few seconds, the muscular contractions became less frequent until they stopped completely. With deep breaths, her blue eyes slowly adjusted properly to the light and her surroundings, for the first time acknowledging the sand beneath her. But if one thing she knew... She was not in The Bahamas. She was not with her family, and she was clearly not in the ship. Her thoughts were vague and blurry, but she could remember the cruise and a few happy images popped onto her head, but now all she could see was tan, blue and green. From laughs and talking, to alarms, screaming and all type of mechanic sounds, to only the crash of the waves behind her. In other opportunity, she would have found them soothing, but then, she found them dangerous and disturbing, like something she couldn't quite understand. She really couldn't understand anything, and at that very moment she felt coward enough to not say out loud her apparent new reality. Laying her full weight upon her legs in a heel-sitting position, Valentina's eyes were dragged upwards, finding ahead of her the rest of the beach and what appeared to be some jungle. Then, looking behind her over her shoulder, she confirmed what her ears had been suggesting. An ocean that seemed infinite.

"Oh, blya!" *, she'd growl with anger, as if that was the first emotion her brain encountered and adopted.

Was she supposed to cry? To scream? Maybe try and swim back to the ship, because there was no way she had just lived in the flesh the Titanic, and she probably, somehow, just fell off. It was a ridiculous idea, though, and no matter how hard she tried to believe it, reality and logic would hit her with a brick. Right before Valentina chose to go for the two former, something clicked on her mind- there were hundreds of other people in the cruise, so she just had to find them... Or, well, find those who had survived. Denying to waste any second, she stood up and ran, although her now soaked and uncomfortably heavy 'boyfriend' jeans made it a really hard task. In the distance she could see some figures, some on the sand and others scattered around, and her heart leaped with a sad joy she'd never thought of feeling.

"Hey! Over here!", she'd yell for them to hear her as she neared, slowly but surely, and moving her arms frantically around. 

ooc: * blya (Бля) means "shit" in russian.

Alexander J Williams
Male | 20 years, 1 month | Solo, will join group eventually | Location: Shore | Mentions: [Directly] Valentina Chapman
Application

The sun blazed down on the dark-skinned man as he washed upon the shore, crawling onto the burning sand as blood trailed down his arm. Shock was all that was on Alexander's face as he held there, his arms and knees supporting him. It was all that he was feeling. All of the noises of people screaming and fire and the waves. Coughing up water, the muscular man looked down at the tan sand for a good minute, his hands pushing into the pale, grainy material. Last thing he could remember was the boat sinking and himself swimming as far from it as possible, as he hadn't wanted to be anywhere near the ship when it sunk, not wanting the vacuum caused by the sinking of the ship to pull him under as well. Blinking to focus his eyesight, the dark man looked around and saw the varieties of people on the beach, most in shock.

As the shock wore off, Alexander felt a sharp pain in his left arm. Looking down at his tricep, he saw what was causing the pain. A small, yet sharp, gray thing was stuck in it, probably a piece of wreckage from the boat. He needed to pull it out. Looking around, he looked for some sort of cloth to tie it and soon his green eyes fell upon a dirty and ripped, green shirt. Reaching over, Alex grabbed the shirt and ripped it, making sure it was ready beside him. Falling back to where he was sitting back on his legs, his feet holding him up, he put his hand on the sharp wreckage, closing his eyes to prepare himself. And then, quickly, he pulled it out with a small grunt of pain, quickly grabbing the piece from the shirt and immediately wrapping it around the wound. Feeling better about that, the tall man pushed himself to his feet and looked around, wondering what to do.

Now on his feet, Alexander decided to walk to the water to wash a bit of the dry blood off. Standing in the water, he bent over and did so, but he noticed that there was some on his shirt. Looking around, he felt a bit of an awkward feeling in his heart. Shrugging it off, the man crossed his arms and pulled his sleeveless shirt of his body, continuing to clean the blood spots in the water. Furrowing his eyebrows against the sun, Alexander briefly shook out his wet shirt before putting it back on, finding it to be clean of some sort.

With a look at the green forest that lie behind the beach, the tall man began walking back onto the shore. As he was doing so, Alexander heard a feminine voice yelling over all the others. For some reason, this woman's voice drew him more than the others did, even during all the chaos. With furrowed eyebrows, the dark-skinned man looked around and his eyes soon landed on a woman standing in the distance. Still slightly disoriented, the muscular man mistook this woman's flailing arms and yells as a call for help. Therefore, he began making his way towards her slightly quickly, approaching her with his eyebrows furrowing against the sun slightly.

The dark man looked at the beautiful woman, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you okay?" he asked, his slight Jamaican accent heavier than normal for some reason. Alexander might be reserved and a bit hostile, but he wasn't disrespectful or un-gentleman-like. She didn't appear hurt, but maybe she had an injury that was hidden from the eye? Who knows.

Frankie Barzini
Male | 25 | Group
Location: Shore
Mentions: Ketty Black

Frankie remembered nothing about the boat crash. He'd went to bed earlier than usual and gotten a good night's sleep. Or, that's how he'd put it. In truth, he'd been cut off at the bar, started crying about a loose thread, and had to be carried back to his cabin. The rest of his night had, however, been spent in a reasonably peaceful slumber. He'd expected to awaken in his room. Instead, he'd awoken on a beach. He stared up at the sky, blinking slowly. His eyes burnt and his head pounded like the waves. He looked to the left and saw the vast expanse ocean dotted with bits of debris. It looked so pleasant. The clear tropical waters reflecting blues and greens. Frankie almost expected a dolphin pod to jump out of the water. The magical ambience was broken as a body washed up beside him.

With a scream, Frankie scrambled up the shore towards the survivors. The shore was covered in bodies. A few looked familiar from the cruise. Most were strangers. But... was that? He ran over to the body of an older woman. He couldn't believe it. Ketty Black! His mamma loved her and now she was- he realised she was breathing. He let out a relieved sigh and leant down to give her a hand. "Grazie a Dio, signora Black. Are you alright?"

-=-=-=-

Xavier Mortimer
Male | 14 | Solo
Location: Shore
Mentions: Open

Xavier had taken a break from swimming to shore. His muscles ached from pulling himself out of a current and, in a stroke of luck, he'd managed to find a surprisingly buoyant suitcase to lie on. His light frame draped over the case, his legs and arms dangling in the water, numb from the cold. He was a way out from the bank, but he could see figures on the sand. The ocean pushed him slowly towards the shore, the waves seemingly drawn in by gravity to crash against the beach. The ebbing push and pull of water was almost peaceful and kept tempting Xavier's head to nod, his eyes to close. He couldn't fall asleep though, not out here. If he slipped too far he'd be caught by currents again and be dragged out to sea. He had to stay at the surface to have any hope of getting to shore.

As the tide pulled him gently towards the island, Xavier thought about what to do. This certainly wasn't the worst situation he'd been in. He had options here, he had materials and other people he could rely on. It wasn't like before. He wasn't alone this time. As he got closer to the shore, he could see more and more people. Luggage and debris had washed up on the sand, as well as people. The cruise ship had capacity for about 250 people, not including the staff. Judging by the growing piles of limp bodies, it seemed like most of them didn't make it. It was strange to think about how fragile humans really were. They could withstand so much, live so long, and yet they were still breakable animals.

Once the waves had carried him close enough, Xavier was able to walk himself along the sandy ocean floor to the shore. He tossed the suitcase ahead of the waterline and headed towards the bodies higher on the sandbank. His clothes were soaking, and he'd end up freezing if he stayed in them. Most of the bodies were adults. Their clothes were too large for him and would weigh him down, he needed to work fast before night came. Eventually he found the body of a young teen. Her skin was blue, her eyes staring glassily up. He stripped her first, then himself, and pulled her clothes on. They were a little big, but not by much, they'd be fine until his dried. With deft hands, he set about scavenging through the other bodies, collecting the more useful finds. His eyes flicked nervously over to the gathering survivors. He still wasn't good with people, and they weren't good with him. They weren't like him, they wouldn't understand his need to survive, but he'd need them. Soon his new pockets were filled with shoelaces, pairs of glasses, and waterlogged lighters. The wallets had been discarded, thrown back onto the pile of bodies. The plastic cards and money were worthless here. With a short hesitant sigh, he made his way over to the group of adults. He might have the wits to survive, but they'd had time on their hands. At least one of them would have read a survival book and he'd need that knowledge.