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Star
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2009
Amber eyes opened to the bright light of day, thick lashes pulling at sweat-coated skin. The sun was hot, too hot, almost like it had wrapped its rays around her body like a blanket. Her throat burned, the salt from the ocean mingling with dehydration. And her body, dear god, someone must have pelted her with thousands of rocks. Blinking to adjust her vision, Rayla pushed herself into a sitting position.
Aside from not being in the comfort of her own bed, the first thing she noticed was that something cold kept brushing at her feet. Head tilted down, watching as waves crashed against her bare legs. Tatterings from the pretty red silk dress lay around her while its remnants barely clung to a toned frame. She lifted a sand-caked hand to her messy chestnut hair, tangling her fingers in the waves.
Images of the night began to piece together in her mind, telling her the story of just how she had managed to land on the island. First, her cruise ship was heading into the South Pacific. Then, she was dancing in a club sipping Cosmos and whatever other drink eager men bought her. Yes, right. Next was where it was a little blurry:
The music began to scratch, but in odd places, unlike what a DJ would do. The sound of metal crashing assaulted her ears, like nails dragging down a chalkboard. Rayla found it hard to walk, her balance somewhat off-kilter. Then, there was screaming and the smell of smoke. All too quickly, water was lapping at her shoes (which, where were they now anyhow?), and people began to push her as they stumbled out the doors.
From there, the images were far too hazy. Somehow, she had gotten to the top deck only to discover the ship sinking to its doom. She remembered thinking she was going to die because she wasn't a strong swimmer. And yet, somehow, she had floated to this island. The rest was a mystery.
"Hello?" She called out, though her voice was hoarse and meek. "Is anyone else out here?" She stood, swaying in the wind before she managed to find her balance. "HELLO!" She tried again, willing herself to yell more loudly. "Someone?" But, perhaps, she was alone.
Aside from not being in the comfort of her own bed, the first thing she noticed was that something cold kept brushing at her feet. Head tilted down, watching as waves crashed against her bare legs. Tatterings from the pretty red silk dress lay around her while its remnants barely clung to a toned frame. She lifted a sand-caked hand to her messy chestnut hair, tangling her fingers in the waves.
Images of the night began to piece together in her mind, telling her the story of just how she had managed to land on the island. First, her cruise ship was heading into the South Pacific. Then, she was dancing in a club sipping Cosmos and whatever other drink eager men bought her. Yes, right. Next was where it was a little blurry:
The music began to scratch, but in odd places, unlike what a DJ would do. The sound of metal crashing assaulted her ears, like nails dragging down a chalkboard. Rayla found it hard to walk, her balance somewhat off-kilter. Then, there was screaming and the smell of smoke. All too quickly, water was lapping at her shoes (which, where were they now anyhow?), and people began to push her as they stumbled out the doors.
From there, the images were far too hazy. Somehow, she had gotten to the top deck only to discover the ship sinking to its doom. She remembered thinking she was going to die because she wasn't a strong swimmer. And yet, somehow, she had floated to this island. The rest was a mystery.
"Hello?" She called out, though her voice was hoarse and meek. "Is anyone else out here?" She stood, swaying in the wind before she managed to find her balance. "HELLO!" She tried again, willing herself to yell more loudly. "Someone?" But, perhaps, she was alone.