Washed Ashore //OPEN//

[ANNABEL ROSECRANS]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=background,http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k519/PokeSparks/Annabelbacktable-1.png] Humid weather pounded down on the scorched sand. It burned beneath even the slightest of touches. Light reflected from the water as it washed onto the shore then dragging whatever it could back into it's clear dept. Even beneath the shade of a tree, the long figure shifted about in discomfort. Ever so slowly, blue eyes cracked open. The beach was silent, not a sound. Good. Let's hope this one could hold conciseness for awhile longer... Bruised palms pressed against the ground, and ever so slowly, the survivor sat up. Her every movement was done as slowly as possible. Her chest rose so softly, it seemed like she wasn't breathing at all. The pounding in her head arose again, but the survivor stood onto her shaking feet. Nearly stumbling forward, the teenager pressed a hand against the foot of the palm tree she had crawled under several hours ago. She stumbled forward, aiming to crawl towards the forest. Her stomach shifted, and she knew what would happen next. After several deep breaths, Annabel lurched, landing on her knees and emptying her stomach by the bush next to her. When she finally finished gagging, the brunette slammed her fist into the sand, cursing. It was because of the salt water, she must have drank some of it when she had been floating out at sea before washing onto here. Her throat burned intensely, and it made her eyes water. Great. Well, that was a good indication that she had just vomited stomach acid. To keep herself from collapsing again, Annabel forced herself once again to her feet. Even as she was struck with a dizzy spell, she pushed on. Her brown jacket was torn and smelled of salt. It had been her blanket last night. As to how she didn't get absolutely sick she had no idea. She had been soaking wet and her clothes were unable to keep her warm. The chilling night air could have killed her. It was luck, pure luck. Tossing the destroyed jacket to the side, Annabel merely hissed. Damn, she forgot about the cuts on her arm. She twisted her head, inspecting her forearm. It was lined with cuts and bruises. The same could be said about the other arm as well. It wasn't pleasant. She sighed, knowing they would have to be cleaned very soon. Her eyes scanned the area, one hand shielding them from the intense rays of light. Most of her things had washed ashore it seemed. Stumbling forward, the teenager reached down to pick up her suitcase. She had used it as a life raft when the ship sank. Coughing, the teenager flipped it open, watching it's contents scatter over the ground. Well, it looked like she had washed ashore on a island. Hopefully this place was populated, but silently, she doubted it. The ship hadn't been sailing near any human populated areas. If anything, this was a empty island out of the millions they had sailed by. Wasn't that just jolly? Her shaking fingers secured around a flask, and she raised it to her lips. She drank the warm water, not caring if it wasn't cold. It ran down her throat, and she didn't stop gulping till it was all gone. When it was, the metal flask clicked as it fell against the hard surface of her suitcase. Damn, she needed that. Running her hands through her scraggly hair, the survivor bit her lip. Her mind was ticking away, coming up with a plan. That was the first thing you do in a survival situation. Come up with a set of goals. Water. She would need water first. No wait, fire. She would need fire to purify any water she found. Next would be food. She would need food if she wanted to live. Her eyes scanned the shore. A couple other things had washed up with her. Boxes, other suitcases, and so forth. She could harvest that for supplies. Good. Wait, who was she kidding? She was stuck on a deserted island. What was good about that? Would she even be found by a search party when they realized the cruise ship didn't make it? Did other people live through the ship sinking? Shaking her head, Annabel took a deep breath. Goals first, thought later. Now wasn't the time to let trivial questions get to her. Right now, she needed to focus on her needs. Dragging her suitcase under the same tree she slept at, the teenager removed her shirt. It was ruined and bloodstained, probably from her arms. The same went for her shorts. She changed quickly, thankful that her suitcase had been waterproof. Her father had laughed when she had told him that, but right now, it gave her a clean and dry set of clothes. She pulled on another brown jacket to replace the old. Combing through her hair with her fingers, she shut the case with her foot. Her suitcase didn't have much, only the the flask and her wallet. The flask was secured in her coat, while her wallet was behind it. Not like she would need to flash a badge around anyways, but maybe she could use it for something later. It took her around an hour to shift through the suitcases on shore. During this search, she managed to come across some new pairs of shirts and pants. She also managed to slip on a new pair of shoes. Her converse shoes had been lost when she had been at sea, and now she had a pair of boots secured at her ankles. They were a bit tight, but it was fine. They would break into her soon. From there, she proceeded onto the sole crate on shore. Maybe it would be a food storage. Her stomach growled loudly at the thought. Usually, in a video game or something as such, they would ask you to get a crowbar to open it. Well, this wasn't a video game. So, what did she do? Annabel proceeded to beat the crap out of the box with her kicks. It only took a couple strong placed kicks to crack it enough for her to pry it open. What was inside? She looked down, lifting a shabby backpack. It was red, and while it was torn, it was still functioning. Annabel raised a brow, lifting it up. It was empty. Why would they just put that in a cra- There was a gun with a strap. With no hesitation, her hand shot forward. She lifted the pistol into her hands. 9mm with a silencer....strange. She shifted through the other contents. There was several boxes of ammo that she stuffed into the backpack. She secured the holster around her waist and inserted the gun into it. So, this was probably a crate to keep supplies for security guards. Her lips twitched into a smirk. Well, that would most certainly help. The searching continued, and she managed to return to the palm tree with several jars, cloths, towels, and finally, a pot. While yes, the gun and backpack was the best find, this would help. She sat herself down, several planks of busted wood from the crate were propped against each other against another empty suitcase. She had moved the stuff she could use or wear into her suitcase or backpack. The cases that had washed with her could probably be used to burn later. Getting onto her knees, Annabel started to dig out a fire pit. She didn't want to start a fire and have it spread, now did she? Making sure the pit was away from the palm tree, she continued digging out the sand till the ground felt more like mud. Coughing again, she pulled herself away. Her nails were crusted with grains of sand, but she ignored it. Now wasn't the time to care about trivial things. Several rocks were gathered, and she set them around the pit. After that, she tossed the wood into it. Well, now to start a fire. Crap. No lighter. Annabel paused, scowling at the fire pit that was absent of a fire. She would need one if she wanted to do anything. It could help her make food, get clean water, all that jazz. Well, fire was just manifested heat, so, rub two sticks together? She shifted one of the planks towards her, and broke a section off. It wasn't exactly a stick, but it was thin enough to be spun between her hands. She set the stick down on the board and started rubbing. Despite the fact that it took ten minutes to get small embers, and another five minutes to toss in some ruined shirts to burn, she got a small fire burning away. It felt nice, and she sat herself in front of it. Well, she was going to take a short break. Her head was still throbbing, and she was in no mood to run around gathering water and food. Maybe in another hour or so. When the sun wasn't so hot out. She sat herself under the shade, watching the fire burn.

[majora]

[bg=666666][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300,true][atrb=background,http://i464.photobucket.com/albums/rr8/purplewolven/dragomid.gif] Samuel J Hawkins| Let your dreams burn bright! | A hero is a man who does what he can The gentle wash of the tide tickled the toes of the sand caked body laying in the merciless sun. If someone were to see Sam now, they would assume him to be a corpse. He lay motionless on the damp beach. His face was planted into the ground with his back facing the sky. His limbs were stretched out like a starfish making for a very awkward sleeping position. Luckily for him, his head was tilted just enough for air to seep into the shallow hole that had developed under the weight of his noggin. If you were to examine him closely, you could noticed a slight rise in his chest. He had not died yet thankfully. Through the night he had tossed and turned constantly. To say the least, his sleep was not a good one. Imprints from where he had slept dotted either side of his person. He could of lounged about on the beach for another good day if it were not for nature telling him to get the hell up. The tide was beginning to venture further as it consumed Sams body in a flurry of white spray and luke warm ocean water. A small groan escaped his parched lips as he clutched sand with both hands. He slowly turned his head to his side; eyes still closed. Again, Sam remained motionless for a good ten minutes before the tides fury could no longer be tolerated. Some of the sand that had been his protective shield from UV rays and overheating washed off leaving him bare. Only his lower half had clothes to cling to. His shirt must have parted from his body during the Shipwreck. What he had on him was a pair of dark brown cargo shorts and a thick pair of sandals. The sandals were fashioned in a way to be able to sustain more rugged terrain. Another groan and he began to get up. Slowly but surely Sam brought himself back to the world of the living. His body gently swayed as he arose to his full height. A hefty head rush greeted him with a not so cheerful Good Morning. Or afternoon... Well the time was not something he knew or cared about at the moment. Sand rained down from his front which remained a little less wet from the tide. After a very thorough few stretches he felt good as new; aside from his ravenous thirst. "Ughh... thirsty..." Sam said ever so softly Sam squinted with his hands shielding his face as he tried to adjust to his new bright surrounding. His neck ached from sleeping on a weird angle most of the night. It took him a while to realize the position he was in. He was not in kansas his nice cozy room on the cruise ship anymore... "Dennis? Where are you man?" Then it dawned on him that his friend might not of made it. It took a lot to hold in his emotions. He shook his head profusely, as if to rid his mind of the painful thought of loosing his pal. Now was not the time for mourning. Without any real plan Sam pressed forward down the beach. The horizon came into focus after blinking at least a couple dozen times. He could not tell right away but there seemed to be a figure not too far down the beach. Perhaps they had water! But alas! He might scare them off looking like some freakish sand monster. Without any further adieu, Sam hurried over to the water and dove in to cleanse his rather off putting appearance. Ahh, did water always feel this good? He felt reinvigorated. Like energy was seeping into his body by the truckload. He swam around under the shallow water for a good couple of minutes before resurfacing with a satisfied expression on his face. His muscles glistened, exemplifying his athletic build as he crept out of the water. His face seemed less pale than it had earlier. Sam had almost forgotten about the reason why he had went to wash himself in the first place. Before he could glance over to where he remembered the person to be, the scent of smoke filled his nose. Cocking his head to the figures direction he saw a small fire burning. Was he or she cooking something? He was not too hungry at the moment but if the opportunity arose to get himself some grub he would not pass it up. Sam trekked on towards the only other person in the vicinity. Everything still felt like a dream to him. As of yet he had not come to realize the severity of the situation. He must have hit his head quite hard on a rock or something. As he approached the figure in question her appearance began to give shape. She was indeed a girl. Looked to be around his age; though she was a lot shorter than him. He stopped about twenty feet away before calling out. "Hello?" Sam said as gently as possible. The last thing he wanted was to startle her. He scanned the area before cautiously moving forward. What he did not see was the girls weapon around her waist. Unfortunately there was no food cooking by the fire. However, there seemed to be a crate, presumably with supplies not too far off. Sam set his motives on that. Maybe there was even water! But his conscious got the better of him and he had to ask before going through another's possessions. "Er... You don't have any water in that crate do you? Mind if I check it out?"