꧁ L I Z Z I E ꧂
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Dialogue: #E4287C
Location: Eastside Beach
╚═══════════════╝
╔═══════════════╗
Dialogue: #E4287C
Location: Eastside Beach
╚═══════════════╝
"Hello? Anyone here?"
The sound of someone else snapped her head up from where it had fallen onto her knees in despair. Red-rimmed eyes searched to the left first, seeing no one. The right, however, revealed the image of a shirtless guy.
Now normally, this could have prompted a number of different reactions from the ballerina, but in this moment, only one: relief.
"Hello?" It's tentative at first, afraid he might be a figment of her imagination. "Hello?!" Stronger now as she scrambles to her feet with the realization that he is, in fact, not in her head, but rather... stealing what was left of the life raft?!
In a tangle of usually graceful limbs, she struggles her way over toward him. "Oh, thank god, you found me! Are you with the search crew? What happened?" As she gets closer, she slows, realizing that his shirt was tied about his head, concealing what looked to be something bleeding. "Oh, fuck. Are you alright? Shit.... SHIT. You're not with the... fuck," she hisses, angry and frustrated all at once.
"L-Listen, um... where... where you on flight 298? Are.... is there anyone else?" There's a strained helplessness in her voice that begs for him to give her anything to cling to, any sort of information that might tell her something other than what her eyes were. She moves a little closer, attempting to look past him in hopes of seeing a beach full of other washed-up random people from the flight. To her dismay, beyond him was only more beach, and more washed up luggage. The disappointment is writ clearly over her face as her features fall.
It only lasts for a moment before she's clearing her throat and turning her gaze back onto him. "They probably washed up... somewhere further down the beach." Yeah... that was it. "Your head looks pretty bad... I pulled some luggage from the water, I... um... let me see if there's anything in there that could help." And without waiting for permission she's turning from him, with the determination of a person that needs to be busy in a time of crisis.
The sound of someone else snapped her head up from where it had fallen onto her knees in despair. Red-rimmed eyes searched to the left first, seeing no one. The right, however, revealed the image of a shirtless guy.
Now normally, this could have prompted a number of different reactions from the ballerina, but in this moment, only one: relief.
"Hello?" It's tentative at first, afraid he might be a figment of her imagination. "Hello?!" Stronger now as she scrambles to her feet with the realization that he is, in fact, not in her head, but rather... stealing what was left of the life raft?!
In a tangle of usually graceful limbs, she struggles her way over toward him. "Oh, thank god, you found me! Are you with the search crew? What happened?" As she gets closer, she slows, realizing that his shirt was tied about his head, concealing what looked to be something bleeding. "Oh, fuck. Are you alright? Shit.... SHIT. You're not with the... fuck," she hisses, angry and frustrated all at once.
"L-Listen, um... where... where you on flight 298? Are.... is there anyone else?" There's a strained helplessness in her voice that begs for him to give her anything to cling to, any sort of information that might tell her something other than what her eyes were. She moves a little closer, attempting to look past him in hopes of seeing a beach full of other washed-up random people from the flight. To her dismay, beyond him was only more beach, and more washed up luggage. The disappointment is writ clearly over her face as her features fall.
It only lasts for a moment before she's clearing her throat and turning her gaze back onto him. "They probably washed up... somewhere further down the beach." Yeah... that was it. "Your head looks pretty bad... I pulled some luggage from the water, I... um... let me see if there's anything in there that could help." And without waiting for permission she's turning from him, with the determination of a person that needs to be busy in a time of crisis.