EPISODE ONE

[teenbab]

[ The flight itself wasn't supposed to be too long - only six hours or so. And up until it all went sideways, it'd been fine; some of the kids had paired off, making small talk with those sat closest to them. Others kept to themselves, tuning out with headphones in or with books. A couple of boys a couple of seats from the front had fallen asleep on each other. Some faces were plastered to the windows, as if there was much else to see other than the vast expanse of ocean.

One minute it'd been smooth sailing, the next there'd been turbulence. And then that's worsened considerably, and it'd rapidly become transparently clear that they were taking a one-way, nose-first detour into the Pacific. Though perhaps by divine intervention or sheer, what're-the-odds chance, the plane had gone down a couple of miles from an island's shoreline.

Some woke up practically washed ashore, others weren't so lucky, left to flounder for any floating debris large enough to hold their weight. Regardless of where or how they woke up, one thing was abundantly clear. They were all equally, undeniably fucked. ]

Comments

[nepharious]

Later, she'll be relieved to remember nothing after the impact - not the water sucking at her shoes and jacket, not the pressure compacting her lungs, not even the way black crept in around all the edges as she tore at her seatbelt. She'll recall only the lights and the lurching and Djem's fingers fumbling at her belt fastener.

That's enough nightmare fodder for anybody.

When Neph comes to, it's with her arms tangled up in the straps of her seat-cushion-slash-flotation-device, pins and needles burning her swollen hands, and a mouthful of sand. She's equal parts scorching hot (back, neck, shoulders, ow) and numb with cold (legs, feet, her whole front) except where things hurt. The 'how the fuck' of that gets answered real quick by a wave throwing itself up to her waist, where she lies facedown on wet - cold - sand.

Brain barely online, she's powered only by the land mammal urge to get outta the water; limbs out of commission, she improvises. Neph inchworms up the tideline, pushing off her knees and shoving her shoulders through the sand until she hits shade, where she blows the rest of her energy flopping over onto her back. Pink and dredged as a cutlet, she just...lies there for a second. The reality of what's happened may be slightly out of reach, but she can already tell it's gonna suck when it comes home to roost.

[gadaboutdetective]

It was funny, well... not really. Not in the ‘haha, good joke!’ kind of way. No, it was just a thing to think about how hours before his biggest concern had been making sure he knew where his portable power banks were so his phone would definitely have the battery to text Hubert and Daniel after the flight as promised if the battery somehow drained despite being fully charged (what? he thought it was a valid concern). Or if he had remembered to put his passport in the correct pocket to make it easier on the other end of the flight, to have all his ducks in a row. Hell... Even making sure his snacks didn’t get entirely squashed under his books for the flight!

Then suddenly his biggest concern was trying to remember the emergency procedures he’d read again and again before the flight as chaos and panic took over. Not easy, considering he was an anxious passenger to begin with when a flight went smoothly.

Worse still was the struggle to make it to dry land after the fact. Llewellyn had never been more glad to feel sand under his fingers and creeping into his shoes as he dug his feet. Sure, he’d complain about that annoying sensation later, but right now he was just grateful to not be dinner for whatever predatory aquatic creatures dwelled in the waters in this part of the world.

He flopped down on the shore a short while later, waterlogged and trying to catch his breath as he wrung the bottom of his sweater out. More of an anxious, fussing motion considering he was soaked, and it did little to change that. The sun would probably dry him out sooner, anyway.

Llewellyn’s head swung one way and another, wide eyed as he looked for signs of life. There... there had to be other people... right? What about his neighbours on the plane? If he made it, then they might have too? Pushing himself back to his feet, stumbling a little as his shoes sank into the sand awkwardly, he started walking in the hopes that he might stumble upon another living soul.

[stupidfucking_rope]

Their Ma didn't worry the same way most mothers do; she didn't fuss over them, she didn't get all teary or affectionate - she nagged, she got more irritable with them before they left. It'd be their first time leaving home - first time on a plane, too - and the only thing that'd kept her from becoming totally intolerable was the reminder that they'd be together.


He didn't remember falling asleep, but he certainly remembered waking up when the turbulence became too rough to brush off. He remembered only really feeling fear set in when he saw the look on his brother's face, he remembered them both praying, holding onto each other-

And now, as he gingerly gets to his feet, Murphy's reassured in the fact that he's gonna remember what sand tastes like for the rest of his life. Senfuckingsational.

His head feels utterly fucked - as does the rest of him, to be honest, but his head especially - but he's at least upright, even with his vision swimming and his legs feeling like they've been replaced with slinkies. As he gathers his bearings and turns to check on Connor, belatedly it's then that he's realising that he's alone. He hasn't noticed if there's anyone else close-by yet, any of the other passengers- he's too gripped with the dread and panic that the very real possibility of losing Connor instinctively causes.

Yelling, then, seems like a reasonable option. Firstly for his brother, but then just for anyone.

Fuck off if he's gonna be stuck here alone. No fucking way.

[57times]

Possible head trauma combined with shock means that sometimes, your reactions to things are delayed or even totally irrational. Esther knows this.

And as she quite literally pulls herself out of the water and onto the beach, chased by the tide until the sand turns dry, she knows that the probability that she's the lone survivor is pretty low. She hopes the others are alright, and while she wasn't scared of dying, she's glad she's not sustained any major, painful injuries.

She's also never been more thrilled to have been in a plane crash. A puzzling thought, even for the circumstances, but it's true. This means they won't get to their destination, which means their trip won't continue, and won't end, and she won't have to fly home again.

Her whole body aches, she's cold somehow and her chest hurts when she takes a breath that's a bit too deep, but when she looks out at the ocean and the scattered mass of debris from the wreck, she can't keep herself from smiling.

Just for a moment. She knows she has to find the others and help them if she can, but for a second, she lets herself indulge the irrational gratitude she's feeling, before she picks a direction, and starts walking.

[fresh_to_deaf]

By the time Djem comes-to properly, it's been a couple of hours since they made impact with the water. Unlike some of the others, however, he wasn't lucky enough to wash ashore all neat and tidy.

He has no memory of finding the suitcase he's clinging to or how long he's been out; only that his arms ache and he's slipped far enough into the water to wake up sputtering and choking, pulling himself up as best he can. Not an easy feat with the waves and the nausea and the whole 'holy fucking shit I'm in the fucking ocean and Levy and Neph are probably dead and my head hurts really bad god fucking dammit dude.'

The prospect of swimming to shore isn't one he's looking forward to - it's only a mile or so if his guess isn't totally off, but he also knows he's scared, he's tired, and he's in pain.

This is why he classes himself as an 'indoor' type of guy. You know what doesn't happen to computer nerds who're wrapped up at home right now? Plane crashes.

Fuck.