[right][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/497601769497690113/497601891514187776/WIN_20181004_18_41_41_Pro.jpg?width=300&height=200[/img][/right] [right] ________________________ LOCATION: Beach INTERACTIONS:[@Aamaya],Anyone TIME OF DAY: Evening HEALTH: Optimal ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/right] _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ [h1][center][color=1b1464][b]Eric Horst[/b][/color][/center][/h1] _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Everything was silent. The world had clammed up and had nothing more to say to him. He felt weightless, drifting through the emptiness that encased his body, absorbing his flesh into it's unending depths. He felt his grip on reality slowly fading away, until the realization that his body hadn't yet ceased it's functioning hit him square in the face, and he felt his arms began to claw at the liquid surrounding him, trying to drag himself out of depths that pulled at his very being. His hands felt a lighter, colder sensation, and his arms smashed at the surface of the water, forcefully dragging himself from the maw of the ocean. His bangs were plastered over his eyes, he could barely see, but he didn't need to to be able to flail his arms about in a desperate attempt to keep him on the surface. Panic was beginning to set in, as his fear of the very entity he swam in began to fill his mind, and a small cry of fear erupted from his lungs. He wanted out, he wanted out right now! Where could he go though? The aircraft was long gone. He was stranded in the middle of the pacific ocean, weighed down, and not a strong swimmer to boot. His head went under, and his arms began to flail again, digging himself out of the sea once more, spitting out the salt filled water with a choked gasp. His arms were beginning to tire, and the seeping cold of the ocean was finally starting to set in. His clothes were weighing him down, and his arms were beginning to slow down. He didn't want to die like this. His body began to sink, and his eyes gazed back up at the slowly fading surface. His lungs were beginning to fill with water. He could see the bubbles left behind from his final sigh of terror, drifting upwards from his mouth. His arm reached out one final time, reaching for the surface, the air, the life he was losing. His fingers brushed against something, and his hand closed around the grip. Solid. It was floating. The water burst apart like a dormant volcano reigniting. His body slumped over his savior, a medium sized suit-case, and clung to it, his entire body shaking, not just from the freezing wetness of the ocean and his drenched clothes, but how close he had just come to dying in one of the worst ways he could imagine. He needed to get out, and he needed to soon. The suit-case wasn't going to float forever, it would eventually yield to the water slamming against it, and sink. His twitching hand brushed his bangs from his eyes, and, not far in the distance, he could see what almost looked like... [color=440e62]"...Land."[/color] The half choked whisper came out. His body filling with adrenaline, he began kicking, propelling himself and his makeshift life-raft towards the only possible means of survival in any direction. The waves fought him the entire way, trying to capsize him, knock him over, slow his process. He didn't even realize when he feet ran up against the ground of beach, not until he felt the suitcase catch, halting his movement. Groggily, the man's legs began to work, as his limbs worked together to stand himself up, moving away from the waves against the beach, stumbling once, and then falling over. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the unforgiving sky above him, his body heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He felt weak, limp, and lifeless, but the rapid beating of his heart and then heavy breaths of his lungs were enough to convince him that he still lived. He didn't lie there long, but he was there long enough to hear the staggered footsteps, and the cry for answers a few feet away. His fingers dug into the grains of sand, scooping it up into a ball in his hand, before releasing it without a second thought. His body slowly recovering from the trauma of being forced into his worst fear and nearly dying to it, he sat upright, running his bangs through his hand, trying to shift them to the side. His voice was calm, but slightly forced. [color=440e62]"We don't panic for one."[/color] His tone made him sound far more hostile then he had actually meant to be, but he couldn't take it back now. He finally managed to stand back up, brushing the sand off his back with a trembling hand. Eric's mind was still recovering, but he could focus enough to run a statistic on their situation. Him and the woman didn't seem to be the only survivors of the crash, and there were no other landmasses anywhere from their vantage point. His trench coat dripped, bringing him back to reality. He was drenched through, and from the looks of his fellow survivor (s) they were too. [color=440e62]"...I think the first order of business is to get out of these clothes..."[/color] He instantly regretted his words.