island unknown | advanced rp discussion

The perfect place to fish for crabs and sea life, not a bad spot to hunt for sea birds either. Shallow and naturally formed, these pools are a great location for gathering food. They catch the last of the sun so are a great place to sit as the evening draws in.

Nearby Locations
Cliffside
Sunken Debris

Recoverable Items
. Oyster Pearl (1)

She was done. Everything was a mess of thoughts, a cyclone in her mind that only grew more and more powerful shedding everything in its path until she needed to get away. Needed to just…. Stop.

Where she was going Alyssa had no idea, all she knew was it was away. She trudged down the beach, arms crossed protectively over her chest, head bowed and watching her feet. She had headed away from the trees, deciding to walk down the beach instead into the dark depths of the woods. She had already spent a long painful night in there and she was not ready to repeat that. Maybe, had it been light, Alyssa would have avoided the beach as well. With the cover of dark things looked far less threatening. She could make out vague silhouettes but nothing compared to what the beach survivors must have seen upon first waking. She could see none of the twisted, mangled bodies that would still be littering the ground. She couldn’t see the crimson sand and the bodiless limbs. All she could see was the looming shadows around her and the path her feet were walking. And maybe that was for the best. If she had seen the destruction there was no guarantee what she would do. She couldn’t blame the beach survivors for having it good if they had suffered just as much as her. And right now, she needed someone else to blame that wasn’t herself.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she walked down the beach. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. She had to be strong. Though there would be no one there to see her tears that thought was the only thing keeping her from becoming a sniveling mess. At this point, Alyssa had no idea how far she had walked or whether she would be able to get back. She told herself she would just follow her footsteps back but many amounts of things could happen and make her lose her way. But, who knows, maybe it would be better for her to never return. Once the thought was implanted in her head it never left, spirling around and around. Her brain mulled on it, picking the sentence apart and reforming it. If she never returned would they be better off? They would have one less mouth to feed, one less person to worry about, she could stop pretending…. Part of her knew she should just let go anyway. No one could see her now, no one could see the tears threatening to spill over and race down her cheeks so no one would care if she broke down. But she did. The girl she wanted to be, the girl she pretended to be, needed to be, refused to let herself cry. Sadness was weakness and your sadness upset others. She couldn’t dream of hurting her brothers and therefore she wouldn’t cry. Despite the burning in her eyes, she wouldn't cry. Yourself is always your toughest critic.

She stopped eventually, her feet aching from the stumbling walk through the debris-littered sand. Her shoulders shook, her fists curled into balls, little bumps rising on her skin from the cold. And that’s how she stood, her body completely motionless while everything inside her waged war on itself. Part of her was regretting leaving but part of her knew she should have. After all, they were better off without her. Plus, there was no way she could hear her brothers cry again. No way she could listen to him like that without her sanity crumbling. Yet it still echoed in her head, her brain refusing to forget it while the words crept up to her. The words that blamed her for this all. She had screamed at Emmy, cursed her half-sisters' name but a part of her always shoved the blame back on herself. If she hadn’t been so mean if she had been faster if she had looked after him better. If this, if that, it was a mess of ifs and maybes and possibilities. And in the end, it all circled back to being all her fault.

“NO!” A bust of anger surged through her.
Alyssa turned to let her fist connect with a nearby tree. Pain spiked through her hand as it connected with the rough bark. She must look like a madwoman. Punching trees, wearing nothing but tattered and torn clothes that were smeared with blood and dirt. Her hair was a mess, hanging limply around her face, a mess of leaves and sticks stuck in it. Only half of her wounds were bandaged, the ones that Jonah had done before getting sidetracked. The rest were exposed to the air, crusted with clotted blood and inflamed from the constant strain the split skin was put under. Shallow marks cutting down her back, chest, upper thighs and maybe a few on her face that she couldn’t see. All and all she was a right mess. Yet she pulled her hand back and once again rammed it into the tree. A new wash of pain pulsed through her knuckles but she did it again. Again, again and again, until she stopped feeling the pain and her knuckles ran bloody. Because it felt good. Because it pulled her mind from the dark, churning thoughts. Just one fist then another connecting with the tree, feeling nothing but a slight sting and her skin cracked and tore. Yet no tears streaked her face. Even when she stopped she only shivered in the cool wind, one hand pressed against the tree, keeping her standing, the other hanging limply her side. Blood dripped down her fingers, slowly dropping in crimson teardrops to the sand. As if her body was crying the tears she refused to let go.