Wool Supply
(?)Community Member
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- Posted: Sat, 05 May 2012 11:18:56 +0000
Fabiola Beatrice
feeling - hungover
with - n/a
location - scrub
feel free to bump into, spot me or anything ; 3; - ooc
with - n/a
location - scrub
feel free to bump into, spot me or anything ; 3; - ooc
Being one to disagree with the idea of waking up Fabiola stubbornly resisted her body’s urge to get up and find warmth. Finally giving in she reached over herself to find her blanket; it wasn’t there, in its stead was the feeling of slime coated rock. Opening her eyes instantaneously she pushed herself up to look around, but that plan failed. Coming crashing back down Fabiola rested her head in her arms, unfortunately she could remember one part of the night all too well; the reason she had a hangover.
She was drinking alone in her cabin when the ship started falling apart, already being wasted the woman tied a bottle of Johnnie Walker to her belt screaming ‘If Jones is gonna claim me then I may as well give him something to god dam drink!” with that the woman remembered running to the deck but in the night something loose stuck her and she fell overboard.
Lifting her head slightly Fabiola looked around; she was on a rocky part of a beach. Her body was tired meaning she was alive. How the hell did she manage to survive the sea? Slowly but surely she came to a stand, feeling her side to find the whisky still attached. An awkward looking smile came over her face; washed up in some unknown place with nothing but a hangover and a bottle of whisky. How her sisters would jest about it. Slowly but surely Fabiola made her way to the sand where she sat with her head resting against her legs to dry off completely.
Long since dry Fabiola felt the warmth of the sun fade from her skin and clothes. The woman looked at the sky, a storm was coming. Great, just great. Standing up she moved her hands in a fashion you would expect to cover your shoulders with a blanket with, as she did a throw materialized from her hands down. The black throw was made of silk woven so thick that it felt like cashmere as it danged down past her feet. It was going to get cold again and she wanted to stay as warm as possible. Rapping herself up in a cloaked cocoon sort of matter she set off into the vegetation in hopes of finding something to use as a shelter, since in a storm the beach was the last place she wanted to be.