Island Heaven (Me and Ohm)

[desertpaladin]

Lance grumbled as he finished coughing up what had to be one of the worst tastes, seawater coming back up. His eyes began to flicker open as he tried to close and open them quickly, hoping to get his vision back as he moved his arm up to cover his face partially from the sun. Sand covered his arm and he felt both hot, cold, and a bit sticky as he sat up, his vision clearing and allowing him to really see where he was. It was some beach somewhere, plantlife coming close to the sand but the beach seemed untouched, no garbage or anything else that seemed to occupy most populated ones and he stood slowly, looking down to see he was still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt... what happened last... before he could finish the thought in his head a throbbing pain seemed to hit him like a train. His head throbbed... why did it throb? After a moment of rubbing a nasty bruise under his short, chocolate and now sand infused hair he began to remember. He had been on a ship with some friends when a storm came out of nowhere and before he knew it he had... he had been underwater, barely clinging to a life preserver that he now saw just a bit away from him on the beach. His shoes were gone, having worn flip flops on the deck and all electronics he had were ruined, not that he was sure it mattered as he pulled out his phone and sighed as the thing showed no chance of coming to life.

Moving from the beach he knew he had to get out of his clothes, knock the sand off, dry them off, and figure out where he was. He quickly stripped down to his birthday suit, making sure to use the cover of the trees to keep from getting sunburned as he hung them on a branch and waited for them to dry, knocking off sand every so often with another fallen branch until they were clean. Now looking around in the nude Lance was a handsome young man, a bit pale in some areas he was not outside as often as he should be without a shirt and pants to have an even tan but his body was in pretty good shape with a six pack and strong legs he had kept from when he had played running back on his high school football team. Pulling on the clothes he grumbled a bit as he made his way into the jungle knowing he had to find water, his throat was parched and fruit juices would help but he would need fresh water before long.

Where the hell was he? Would he be found? Everything ran through his mind about trying to get home as he found a small pond and he ran for it, leaning his head in to drink not caring if there was anything around. The water was a tad salt, maybe the storm had brought some sea water this far but it was not bad as he drank down what he could and looked around. What now? He thought he heard something as he moved to be closer to the water, possibly to swim away from whatever was coming close if it was hostile.

 

[Shoegaze]

• 
  
  A soupy, violet haze poured from the jungle; it was mystic, almost, spotted with dust that seemingly sparkled. The skies were still dark from a recent storm and they churned eerily, casting arrant fingers of the sun's light through the jungle's canopy.
  
  At the time, a group of Palan scouts were traipsing through the bush. One of them, a bandy-armed Samoan man, jerked the leash of an over-sized potcake whose nose was buried in a depressed pile of mud. The Samoan reached down and caressed the potcake's mane, shoveling aside a pile of leaves that ensconced a footprint. "It's probably one of ours," put in one of the scouts, but the Samoan wielding the potcake shook his head. "These are coming inward, from the beach. No scouts left the city after storm." The Samoan's lips were dyed a strange hue of blue from the sourleaf he was chewing on; even his spittle was indigo, but he did his best not to let the bitter taste make him salivate.
  
  "This way."
  
  The gesture was silent but lewd enough for the others to nod to. Though seemingly lucid, the group's eyes were glazed over in a drug induced haze. They were allowed, as scouts, to partake in only a certain family of drug that didn't encumber their reflexes. Their minds were sharp, their senses sharper.
  
  The group skulked through the brush, wading through the waist-high water that choked the mangrove and surrounding estuaries. They came to an abrupt halt when they noticed a pale figure traipsing through the wood. "Manu," one of the scouts whispered to their leader. The group was able to conclude that this man wasn't one of their people - his skin was far too pale and he was drinking estuary water, a common mistake among outsiders.
  
  "It's possible the storm brought down a plane, or maybe capsized a boat." Manu thrust his hand out to silence his subordinate and counted to three. The group circled around the pond, careful not to create ripples that would give away their positions. "You!" They screamed.
  
  The group raised their spears at the man, uncaring of his disposition and nudity. "What caste are you from? This is our territory."