island unknown | advanced rp discussion

Crash Site - A long stretch of sandy coastline where the main body of the plane landed. This will be the starting point for the vast majority of survivors. Upon crashing onto the beach the fuselage broke apart, sections of the plane may be partially submerged or scattered across the beach.

Recoverable Items - Items recovered from the initial crash site are not listed, just try to be sensible with what your character finds. Understandably, if you join the rp at a later date these threads are likely to be empty of useful content.

Vineo had found himself in his seat, he was dazed but the smell of smoke and copper filling the air was enough to make his stomach drop with dread. Hands fumbled with his seatbelt undoing it as he scanned the plane wreck. Oh fuck me, Vinny thought as he looked at the disaster around him. Waking up more he had the sense to cover his face to stop from himself from inhaling smoke. Looking down in his lap he found his back pack and grabbed it before climbing over the seat in front of him, empty thankfully and stumbling to the nearest exit. Before his measly stomach contents made a return trip.

The sun light was too bright after the dark cabin, but he needed to get away from the wreckage as much as he could first. Wobbly legs only got him so far from the horror he’d just seen. Copper and smoke seemed to have stained his sense of smell. Collapsing against a tree and shaking the hair out of his eyes Vinny reached into his back pack for a pack of smokes. A thought crossed his mind before he placed it between his teeth, he should try and save them and he would but first he needed one. Digging through his back pack for a thing of matches Vineo nearly praised God when he found one. If there was one thing he was glad for it was holding onto his carry on bag the way he did. Pulling one of them out of it’s damaged box and placing it between his lips as he got a match out to light it. Dropping the match box and pack of smokes into his soiled shirt pocket he breathed in the nicotine with a content sound.

A hand coming up to brush his hair out of his face again he winced a bit when Vinny touched his forehead. It felt bruised and a bit of drying blood was on his finger tips, but he wasn’t surprised with how hard he’d knocked it against the seat in front of him. The Brit assumed he was one of the lucky ones, after all aside from some bumps and bruises Vineo seemed to have come out hardly injured. Others were not so lucky and he hoped the families and friends of those who’d died could find peace.

He was in an eerie sense calm, he couldn’t really comprehend what had happened fully. A small voice in the back of his head supplied the words, in shock and he agreed. Slumping against his tree Vinny scanned the beach for anything useful or people and something caught his eye. A metal canteen. Zipping up and throwing his bag over his shoulder Vineo made his way over to his treasure. He flicked the ash from his cigarette before picking the navy canteen up to inspect it. Much to his delight it had a few dents and no name, shaking it to tell if there was any water in it he found none. Well not everything could go right for him he supposed.

Samson considered himself a rational person above all else, he doesn't believe in panicking when he could view the situation with a cool head instead. Of course, that all went out the window the moment he survived a fucking plane crash and clawed his way from the broken vessel purely hopped on adrenaline.

He tried to speak to the other people, but their voices overlapped into something else entirely and his head pounded with an overwhelming sense of panic as he tried to focus on what they were saying. All he could think about was the blood in the water within the plane, the blood pooling in his mouth, and the corpses left in their seats as he crawled from the wreckage.

He staggered to a fallen log, digging in his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he had hidden in his carry on. They were a tad damp, but they would work to hopefully calm his nerves. Pulling his lighter from his pocket he struggled to light it, his chest sinking with each failed click of the lighter and the flame sputtering out hopelessly. His hands shook wildly, his ankle was throbbing, and he felt a rivulet of what could be blood or sweat trickling from his temple.

"Fuck!" He finally exclaimed when the lighter fell from his fingers into the sand. He curled into himself, running his hands through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Why did this happen to him? What's going to happen to him? The only experience he has with survival is binge watching Bear Grylls on netflix!

Hearing a curse of profanity to his left Vinny looked there only to find young man about his age struggling with his lighter. Debating on whether he should ignore it or help the lad out Vineo decided to help him. Making his way towards the shaggy haired guy pulling his matches out of his pocket. Vineo called from around his cigarette in a bit of a hoarse voice, accent coming out a bit strong, “Ya need’ah light?”

He made his way over to him holding out the match box in a bit of a peace offering. Canteen still in hand he gave the other guy a once over to find any serious injuries but found none. ‘A pair of lucky long haired lads the pair of them then,’ mused Vinny as he came to stand a few feet from the stranger. He seemed to be having a bit of a freak out, but Vineo could understand that. Shifting his backpack to his other shoulder he waited for the deny or accept his offer.

While he did Vinny took in the surroundings, there was a long stretch of beach and a bit of jungle on the edge of the sand. While the water looked blue and pretty it went on for miles without any other signs of islands or land for that matter in sight. “Well, we sure got ourselves into a right mess ha’vent we then,” he muttered eyes catching the wreckage and the vast miles of empty sea. The island itself was pretty in it’s own way, if it wasn’t the last place Vineo would probably ever see. Then again better to die in such a pretty place than during the crash where the last thing you feel is panic and then nothing. ‘Though who knows, he might end up regretting that statement at some point,’ he thought clicking his tongue.

"What?" Samson snapped, glaring at the individual intruding on his moment for a second before visibly softening, letting out a deep sigh. "Sorry, I'm just- sure, I'd love a light." He sat up, pulling his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears as he recovered his cigarette. Looking at the man, also long haired, he noted, he watched as the stranger looked around with a level of apathy that baffled Samson. How could he look so callous and uncaring in the middle of hell?

He scooted a little of the fallen tree, "you can sit if you want." He offered, motioning towards the spot next to him on the slightly damp tree. "I uh- sorry. I'm just kinda freaking out here." Samson admitted, the words tumbling from his mouth in a rush, "I-I... I normally have a clear head but I don't- I'm rambling, sorry." He bit down on his lips to silence himself, glancing around the area and avoiding looking too close at the wreckage lest he see something he will ultimately regret seeing.

The island though was like something a forty-seven year old secretary would set as her computer desktop, which is to say it was picturesque and beautiful in a morbid sort of way, he would even use the word heavenly to describe it. Waxy palm fronds wavered in the light ocean breeze and the water, a light blue Samson has only seen in chlorinated pools met the azure blue of the sky out onto the vast horizon.

That is, the empty horizon. His chest tightened again and he forced himself to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

Vineo gave him an understanding look, “S’alright, you’ve got every right to be snappish,” he said taking a seat next to him and handing the man his match box. His own cigarette had burned to a half but that didn’t matter so much anymore. Setting his bag at his feet Vinny tossed his new canteen into it along with his pack of smokes and zipped it up. He listened to the stranger ramble before he shrugged, “I’d’a picked freaking out over’ah being numb at the moment,” admitted the Brit quietly.

Vinny wondered what the stranger must think of him looking so unaffected by it. That would be off behavior he supposed, but Vineo was always a bit disconnected from things. He let out a sigh staring at the surf for a while before speaking up, “Names’, Vinny,” he introduced himself taking a glance at the young man next to him.

He found it a bit amusing that both of them had long hair, his shorter and less wild than the person next to him. All the same they were alive, Vineo was thankful he was, but at the same time there was a bad feeling about it all. The island seemed too pretty to have landed them in the horror it did. Lush greens, white sands and the beautiful blue water seemed too good to be true. He wondered if there was fresh water or if they’d all end up thirst crazy enough to get salt water into their system.

The heat proving too much for Vineo he un buttoned the light blue button up leaving him in his white under tee shirt. Balling up the blue fabric and opening his bag again to shove it in. He was a Londoner, so he wasn’t fairing well in the islands heat. Vinny felt sticky, hair clung to the back of his neck and he almost got his tie in order to makeshift a head band.

Samson took the match box with a grateful sigh, especially when he was able to light his cigarette and take a long drag, inhaling the deeply putrid smoke that burned like fire down his throat. He coughed like it was his first time -- he doesn't smoke often on account for his profession -- waving off the stranger when his coughing died down.

Taking a good look at the stranger now as he spoke -- Samson couldn't hear that well, his heart was still racing -- he realized now that this is a man he probably would have thought handsome if they had met in the heat of a night club or the quiet din of a pub. Plus, Samson thought, he's British, I would have been ecstatic to meet him in a different scenario, pretty much ANY other scenario.

He's looking at him, clearly waiting for him to say something. Samson shook his head as if to clear his cluttered thoughts and finally spoke, "Ah- I'm Samson. No one calls me that. It's just Sam." Shit, what did he say was his name? Something with a V, he thought, Valentine, Vince, Vinny. That was it. Wait, shit, this dude was in shock. Shouldn't he be doing something from his first aid course in college?

"Are you hurt?" He asked, watching a bit too closely as the man began unbuttoning his over shirt, "I saw some other people didn't quit fare as well as me -- that is to say, I managed to come out fine." Samson went to brush his hair from his face, wincing as his fingernails caught on a small crust of blood collecting right near his temple. "You have helluva bruise forming there, Vinny. Can I take a look?"

Taking a glance at him a bit concerned only to be waved off Vineo shrugged taking his match box back. He figured the lad must not smoke often, good on him, Vinny wished he had that restraint. Alas his stress smoking was often because, though denying it, he often was stress. Clear as day he can remember his boss asking if his eye bags were tattooed on, joking of course.

Feeling eyes on him, but not addressing it letting his eyes wander around him. He didn’t mind, after all Vinny had given him a once over as well. Perking up a bit when he got a name though, “Samson? Sounds like somethin’ you might hear back home,” he mused, “Glad’ta give you ah light then, Sam, you looked like you needed it.” Of course Vineo commented on his frazzled state, because it seemed like the nicotine was doing its job.

When asked if he was hurt he shrugged. Vinny felt a bit dazed still from waking up, but he chalked that up to him whacking his head. It had happened when the plane started to come apart. There had been a shrieking of metal tearing apart, a lurch, his head slammed into the seat in front of him and then they started going down-

Vineo blinked himself out of the recalled memories before he got lost, “I guess so, I hit ma head when we wen’t down,” he supplied, “You’re welcome’ta check it out I guess.” His accent was still coming out strong, but he was trying to keep it on the down low. It was a bit heavy when he got tired, the Northern in him sneaking out without his permission. It’s not like he didn’t like his accent, it just could get a little... thick sometimes. Thank the lord he’d never picked up a Cockney accent though because those were right messes when slurred and jumbled.

"Alright, Vinny, uh, I'm just going to check your pupils to make sure they're not blown or different sizes. That's a clear sign of severe head trauma. Hold still, please." He turned to face him, leaning in and gently lifting his eyelids to check out his eyes. Blue, Samson noted with a small smile, he was almost envious. His mother often told him how he was unlucky to inherit her "shitty eyes," which included not only the vision problems but the color as well. He bit the inside of his cheek, leaning back with a tentative smile.

"I was actually an EMT for a while. That's how I know this stuff. Your eyes look fine, by the way. You could still have some head trauma, though, or even shock." He sighed, leaning back, "there's not much I could do to treat it though, but I think it's best to know so we can take precautions not to aggravate it."

Quickly Samson rambled off the concussion test questions he remembered, asking Vinny if his vision is blurred or he's seeing double, if he's confused, missing memories, or nauseous at all.

"I think you and I made it off easy, though," he said, clearly trying to sound more upbeat, "some people weren't so lucky, unfortunately. I wish I could've done more to help them, but hopefully rescue will come soon."

Vineo nodded before stilling his head and allowing Samson to do what he needed to. It didn’t occur to him that he could have hurt himself that badly, but even so he let Sam do as he needed. When he pulled back Vinny caught the fact that his eyes were brown. For a moment he wondered if they were the sort to turn golden when the light hit them just right. He liked eyes like that, it reminded him of honey.

“Really? Sounds more exciting than being ah P.A I’ll tell yah that,” said Vineo with a twitch of a smile, “Will do then seeing as your ta one with the smarts when it comes ta this.” Shaking his head to answer the questions that Sam asked him answering them honestly knowing not to screw around when it came to medical questions.

Vinny leaned back on the log fiddling with the match box and putting out his, by then, stub of a cigarette. He needed another one. Wanted, not needed,’ he reminded himself fingers drumming on the box.

“Lucky lads the pair of us,” Vineo said in agreement, his tone less upbeat than Sam’s. He didn’t think rescue with come soon, he hoped at least they knew that the plane had gone down. Though Vinny didn’t voice the fact that he didn’t feel as optimistic as Sam, he also didn’t try and get his hopes up even more either.

Samson sat back down and finished his cigarette, stubbing it out on the log and stuffing the butt into his pocket. The heat here was hot and heavy, beading against his skin uncomfortably. It reminded him of the sauna, with the heavy air almost stifling. With a sigh he pulled his flannel off, running a hand through his now frizzy curls to try and pry them from his sweaty face.

Samson looked up at the other survivors, then at the sun just beginning to set. "I think they're going to try and start a fire, we should probably help. It'll at least keep the bugs off of us," he muttered the last part more to himself then to Vinny, taking a moment to swat an absurdly large mosquito preparing to bite him.

"I hope they have food, I'm starved. I guess it really wasn't a good idea to skip breakfast, huh?" Samson chuckled at his own joke, heaving himself to his feet and taking another glance within the shaded forest. "Plus, I don't know what the hell lives in this jungle, but I definitely don't want to find out any time soon."

“Fire would be good idea, let people know we’re here and like ya said keep bugs off us,” Vinny said in agreement not really minding the bugs. He pocketed his matchbox teeth worrying his bottom lip as he looked to the others. Vineo wasn’t much of a people person.

At the mention of food Vinny’s stomach growled, “Here, just a tick,” he said getting into his backpack again and pulled out the crumped box of cream crackers he had. Vineo knew somewhere that he should save the crackers, but he also felt sharing them with Sam would help in the long run. Grabbing the half sleeve he offered it to Sam, “I’ve got some cream crackers I’d been eating, they’re like your saltines in America.”

Vinny stood up stretching, grabbed his backpack zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder. “All in all this whole situation is a cock up and if they’ve got a plan then they better share it,” sighed Vineo looking at the setting sun. He took a glance at Sam, the bloke was optimistic which Vinny could appreciate but he also figured not to get too hopeful and bite his own arm off.

Samson hesitantly took the saltines, looking at him as if to confirm that this was okay. Even still, something awful wormed it's way into his chest and a deep, deep sense of guilt overwhelmed him. Both of them were hungry, gods, even the cigarettes couldn't manage to chase away the gnawing in his stomach, but what happens when they all run out of food? None of them had weapons, they were on a plane.

He sighed, too exhausted to panic, "Alright, thanks. Let's hope someone here is secretly Bear Grylls or managed to pack a speedboat in their carry on." He began to walk towards the others with Vinny, letting out another sigh when he stepped into the circle of panicked people, though their previous fear had managed to simmer down enough that he didn't feel the need to run away.

"Someone needs to gather kindling, the driftwood on the beach is too wet to burn," someone said, but it seemed as if they were the de facto leader of the group and so Samson nodded, wondering who here is brave enough to go into that forest when he realized that the leader was not volunteering themselves and everyone else, an elderly couple, a man with a broken leg, and others who seemed too recessed into their thoughts to go were silent.

Well, fuck.

Feeling a bit relived that Sam took the crackers, Vinny smiled a tad. “Not a problem, but mate I think fitting a speed boat in luggage is a bit of a stretch,” he joked chuckling and following him toward the circle. The conversation there was as they thought, getting a fire going.

Vineo took a gander at the people around them and piped up when someone said they needed to look for kindling. Raising a hand and clearing his throat, "I'd best help with that, might as well be productive before I collapse from exhaustion," shrugged Vinny. whether it was said as a joke or seriously was hard to tell. Either way Vineo was ready to help others was the point he was trying to get across. He looked around and glanced at the others.

The person who really caught his attention was the man with the broken leg. Not sure if he’d been tended to Vineo bit at his lip again. It was troublesome but he didn’t have any medical experience so he’d do what he could and fetch wood. Small things that would help maybe go back and scavenge for something to help in the wreck.

Seeing this man’s sudden offer to risk his own skin had sparked a sort of nervous flame within Samson’s chest. He looked at Vinny, his tired eyes, the wry expression on his face, he found that it was difficult to read this man and gauge exactly why he would be able to do something dangerous for a group of strangers? What of his family? Did he even have family?

Family. Samson bit his lip, crossing his arms as he looked across at these people, an old man holding the hand of his wife, children with their parents, each of them had something to lose here, it makes sense why they were much less willing to risk losing their lives before they’re eventually found. Perhaps he and Vinny were alike after all, because the only one waiting for him to get home is maybe his employer and his sweet turtle Theodosia, but otherwise he was alone. Truly, truly alone.

Was this risk truly worth it?

His doubts clouded his judgement, heavy and dripping with guilt that threatened to consume him whole. Suddenly he sighed, the tightness in his chest growing into a vice grip as he turned to look into the trees, watching gleaming green palm fronds waving in the sticky ocean breeze, the noise of crickets and frogs and whatever the fuck was waiting to eat any adventurerers.

Samson pulled his hair from his face, letting out a deep sigh before stopping Vinny from stepping into the forest, “wait!” He paused for a moment, stuck in some surreal moment where he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, almost as if he had lost control entirely. “Wait. Just- I’ll go with you. You won’t be any help if you’re exhausted.”