Lost RPG

I was never really good at paying attention to my surroundings, because generally, I didn’t really care. Why should I be bothered on anything but myself or what was happening to me personally? But I was paying plenty of attention when that plane started to shake to hell. And why shouldn’t I have? I of course wasn’t going to start screaming and throwing panic everywhere like some people were around me; if I did, that would just have given Boone licence to play the big hero again, and I was not about to let that happen. To hell with him, I could look after myself thank you very much. Of course if I was to know what was going to happen once the turbulence only got worse; I just might have let go and screamed my goddamn head right off, no one would have blamed me since they were all screaming too.

To be honest I can’t remember much after that. Now I’m standing in a mass of sand and plane rubble; my shoulder feels as if it’s been dislocated, my head is absolutely spinning out of control, and I’m pretty sure if there was a mirror to look in, I’d be disgustingly grotesque looking. I want to cry, but right now I can’t even find the strength to do that. “Sweet Jesus,” I grab a hold of my dislocated shoulder and begin to rub it slightly, only to end up hurting myself more.

There’s no way right now to tell if I have any permanent damage done to me. I mean, I feel okay considering what could have happened and how bad off other people are, but how could I be perfectly fine after what just happened to me? Now I’m here - on this beach that could have very easily been a beautiful place to day trip to – and all I can really see through the smoke is a burning plane and dead bodies. I can’t help but think over and over again; oh my God. People are dead, and that could have been me. I can no longer hold it in, and tears begin to leak out of my eyes as I choke out very audible and distressed sobs. There are so many people around me to hear my cries, but no one really answers them, as if I’d want them to anyways. And for about the millionth time in my life, I’m happy I’m not alone, even if these may be very well the last people on the face of the planet I’d want to be around.

A woman is lying on the ground in front of me, about my age, and I can tell just by looking at the large piece of metal expelling from her chest and the blood leaking from it, she’s dead. Now not only am I crying, but I’m screaming. I don’t care what people think about it, I can’t stop it, and I don’t think I should have to. I have the right to scream as loudly as I damn well want.

And even though I know it’s doing nothing, it’s all I can do but make myself useful. And I just can’t stop. It’s all far to horrifying if I stop.

Your plane rips apart and plummets to the earth on some random tropical island! Of course. *rolls eyes* The way things have been going lately, why should I expect to actually arrive safely in Los Angeles?

So here I am...wandering through the jungle, not too far off the beach, not really sure what to do next, and without a clue where we are. Is the island deserted, or are we just on some unihabited side? No way to know.

I've got a few bumps and cuts, but I figure I'm a lot better off than most. Sure, my wrists are a little sore from struggling to get out of those cuffs, but I'm out of them. And I'm alive. All things considered, I'd say I definitely came out of this on the side of lucky.

Truthfully though? Would have much rather not been on the plane in the first place. Not that I can really fault Ray. I know how much he needed that reward money. I just hope he gets it. At least that way, all this would be sort of worth it.

I feel a little dazed. Maybe that's just an after effect of the cabin pressure changing so quickly when the plane came apart? I really don't know. Planes weren't usually how I traveled. Bus, Train, sure...plane...only to get to Austraila in the first place.*sigh* Part of me's just wanting to lay down and rest, but it's entirely possible I have a concusion, which would make sleep the last thing I should do.

I should probably think about heading back to the beach and see if I can be any help over there...not that I really have a clue how to help...

(open to Jack if he's interested)

At first she thought she was blind, the blackness infront of her unending; but when she moved her hand (a chore in its own) Seirra realized she was being protected by several bodies. This realization gave her a strange sense of confort before her heart gave a start and she frantically shoved at them. Their clothes were familiar, from what she could tell. They had been sitting beside her, infront of her, around her. However, the need to get free and grab her bag was too intense to care about these corpses. They weren't who they were now, they were dead.

Adrenaline kicked in just as she saw a peek into the world outside the wreckage. Sound was suddenly overwhelming as the bodies rolled off her and she quickly tore off the belt buckle that saved her life. Her backpack had fallen out of the overhead compartment and into the sea of tossled people around her. It didn't bother her to climb over them, her belongings safely slung over her aching shoulders as she headed for the gaping hole that once had been some part of the plane.

Oh shit. Sierra's eyes widened as she tumbled out of plane wreckage, watching and listening as people rushed all around her. The high pitched whirl of a plane engine made her uncomfortable - for good reason. Hadn't she heard the sound in a movie before? Too numb to care, her basic instincts kicked in and she ran away from both the whirring and the bodies. If she could to a place where she could see better-

Someone grabbed her by the waist and drug her down to the ground as something flew into the whirring and she felt the world quake with an unexpected explosion. Shit! Shit! Shit! Blinking through the dust, she kicked at whoever had practically saved her life. They tried to get her back down, as if the ground was any safer, but her legs were now on their own and they shoved the person away and she was off running again.

She didn't stop until until she reached a higher point on the ground. Okay, I'm safe. I'm safe. Her eyes felt like they hadn't really opened at all until she was stood up straight and looked out of a beach. An unfathomable scene stretched out in front of her. This... this isn't LA.

Characters: Charlie, Claire
Rating: PG-13; language
Summary: Charlie and Claire on the beach; occurs right after the crash.


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It's a pity it's going to waste, but it's got to go. Bollocks on that, though. I sighed, practically kissing it goodbye - it's not that big of a deal, I tried reassuring myself, closing my eyes. I can get more once I'm in the States, no problem scoring some there, it's just going to be a long trip there.


If I only knew.


Now I'm on a beach, bugger if I know where; there's an aero propeller - engine? Something, it's whirring and my head is bloody killing me. I've got a few bumps and bruises and cuts but overall I'd say I'm a lucky bastard, considering the looks of things here.


"Fuck," I mumble, rolling onto my side and then sitting up. There's some bloody bird screaming her head off, some people bleeding to death; my eyelids feel heavy and I should have taken a bloody ship. I knew I shouldn't have taken the aero. All right, so I didn't know, but this is bad. This is the worst. There is nothing about this that even remotely resembles good.


Sad thing is, place (minus the corpses and the wreckage, anyway) looks like somewhere we'd go on holiday. Sand, trees, water; I barely have the chance to feel the sand under my fingers before I climb to my feet.


What the hell am I supposed to do now? Thankfully everyone seems as lost as I feel, which is a comfort and a curse. It'd be nice if someone knew what to do here. Mostly we're still in shock; I barely recognize any of these people, a few maybe from boarding but my mind's fuzzy on the details.


"Fuck," I conclude.

It all happened a little too quickly for me to notice. I'm still remembering things like half of our plane missing all of a sudden or the girl next to me helping me with the oxygen mask because I was so stunned with the plane's turbulence. It was strange at the time because I kept thinking about how I should have been the one to help her with hers. It didn't hit me until it I felt a cramp tightening inside of me that our plane had crashed.

I give a quiet moan, holding my stomach. This can't be happening. Not now. It's too soon.

"Help!" The word seems strange in my mouth because as I look around there's so many people who need it. "Somebody please help!"

I can feel the tears brimming in my eyes. Shit, I don't want to have my baby right now. I don't feel prepared. Somewhere along feeling not prepared I forget how to breathe because when the next wave of pain comes around I give a harsh gasp in.

The dull roar of screams and the still running jet engine fill my ears. This doesn't look like Los Angeles.