[color=fff79a][b]Hazel Baker[/b][/color][hr]

Alarms.

Her body was wide awake before she was, alert and standing before she even registered what caused her to wake up. Some sort of alarms going on. There was no time to think, no time to dress, as she simply bounded out the door before stopping dead in her tracks. Turning back, she scooped up a neatly folded outfit near the top of her bed before running back out, following the flow of people towards the basement.

There was —

[center]***[/center]

She was floating again in the sea, unable to move. There was this creeping feeling that things were reaching up towards her, towards the surface to pull her in deeper. A white line caught her eye, before more and more came surrounding her. Blinking, she found herself standing on solid ground again, the table still laden with food and tea, looking as pristine as ever. There was no sign that it had ever been submerged in water before. More and more white lines swirled around her and the island, holding her safe from the creeping sea below. There was an odd quality about those lines, as if it was something someone painted with brush and some acrylic on the air.  The black sea roiled with anger, large waves that seemed to extend themselves towards her, trying to pull her down into its depths.

She didn't want this, she didn't want to see —

[center]***[/center]

Hazel leaned against the wall, trying to shake off that odd nausea and disorientation that came with these sort of dream. Making it to the basement with no other complication, she simply waited as ordered, with not even the shaking and the ceiling threatening to come down upon them fazing her.

[color=f7976a]”Move! Go!”[/color]

Her eyes snapped open as she watched people clear the passageway. Seeing no reason to disobey such orders, she walked first into the passageway, holding the outfit close to her as she made her way towards the lighthouse.