Welcome to Gaia! ::

Daniel Baxter's brown eyes flicked down to assess his watch again, fifteen more minutes until the group of workshop attendees were supposed to assemble here at the harbour so he could ferry them to Benjamin's island. Here being the city of Nassau, capital of the Bahamas and located on New Providence Island. The city was Daniel's home and had been for many years now. He made a decent living ferrying out supplies and mail to people like his friend Benjamin who owned private islands in the general area. He didn't normally carry guests aboard the Jazzy tune, but for such an old friend he was making an exception, Daniel only hoped he wasn't going to regret it.

At least is nothing else the sky was nearly cloudless, warm sunlight beat down on the man's dark skin. There was a slight refreshing breeze but not enough to stir the ocean, all of this good for a nice simple trip, perhaps the weather was an omen.

---weather today! Looks likes it's gonna be raining today so expect delays for you travelers!

"SHUT UP YOU STUPID CLOCK! I PUT YOU ON ALARM!"

CRASH!!!

Christine stared across her room to see another smashed alarm clock. After she realized what she had done, she let out a pitiful sigh. She had learned not to buy those atomic alarm clocks that come with a radio after the third broken clock, but she kept thinking that it would come in handy. She looked over at the spare digital clock on her desk. 6 AM. Better get ready for the trip.

"Wait, didn't the radio say rain? SHOOT! My plane better not get delayed!" With the sudden surge of energy, Chris managed to shower, dress, and grab a quick breakfast before bolting to the awaiting taxi cab outside her home. The trip to the airport took an hour and towards the arrival the sky began to drizzle. Once at the airport, everything went smoothly and the plane left without delays. Thank goodness. Chris went to sleep.

Or at least she tried to. Most of the passengers on Chris' plane were going to the Bahamas for vacation and consisted of families with annoying young children. More than once did she have to glare menacingly at the children to stop screaming and jumping in their seats, only to have the parents give her an awkward look. The connecting flight in Miami didn't help either as more families boarded the plane with even more children. A few hours later, a very stressed Chris arrived at last at Nassau's airport. She scrambled to get off the plane and get her belongings as fast as possible. She called for a taxi and got to the port where a ferry was to take her to the island workshop.

Chris stared at the ocean past the boats at the docks and towards the horizon. When was the last time she was near any large body of water? Possibly not since before college more than 10 years ago. Breathing in the salty air, she walked towards the dock that was stated in the letter. A man was already there talking to the ferryman. Good, she wasn't late.

"Hello there! This is the boat to the writer's workshop, right? My name's Christine Holland."

It's almost lucky that Ophelia is as much an insomniac as she is, because catching the plane at Logan International at a crisp 6am just wouldn't have been as pretty otherwise. With a breakfast served (a little plain on taste, but hey, who was she to complain) and three hours spent til she crossed over in Atlanta, Felia almost found herself enjoying the travel.. despite her immense initial fear of the plane spontaneously combusting or crashing or spinning out of control in stormy weather, or..

But she made it to Atlanta no problems, and even had time to spare to roam through the little shops on her way to the connecting terminal. This time, there were no meals served, to her disappointment, but with her noise canceling headphones and a good seat near a window, Felia catnapped through the entire second flight.

So far, so good.

She picked out her companion cube themed luggage from the spinning dispenser and headed out to hail a cab, dragging the ridiculously nerdy, albeit lightly packed, thing behind her on wheels. Once out of the airport, she takes a deep breath of the air so different than the New England pollutants she's used to, never mind the stuff she's usually breathing next to the copy machine.

The cab takes her where she needs to be - granted, the man misunderstood and took her a little out of her way the first time around, but with how well the trip has gone thus far, it really didn't piss her off as much as it usually would have to be off course. With a quick and probably illegal detour, the man had her dropped off at the harbour with minutes to spare. She shrugs her messenger bag onto her shoulder, pays the man, and wheels, with great difficulty with stability, her luggage behind her. There are people here, which is a very good sign.

"Yo," she greets the others informally, glancing around over the rims of her glasses at her company, and makes quick judgments as to who they are. "This is the writing workshop thing, right? I'm Ophelia, Ophelia Culpepper."

Daniel nodded at the first of his passengers " Yes I'm Daniel," he peered around, no easy task, the other and noted another person headed their way. It seemed that once they started coming it was going to be a steady flow. " It looks like your fellow writers are starting to show up as well, we'll probably be on our way in less than a half hour." Assuming there were no stragglers or problems.

Again the dark haired nodded and smiled as Christine arrived , assured her she was in the right place and introduced himself.

" Neither of you gets seasick right?" he asked the pair suddenly realizing he didn't have any paper bags or anything for that like an airplane did. He'd also rather they not puke over the side of the Jazzy tune and risk falling into the ocean.

Girls, Daniel though, there were an awful lot of girls or well women in this group, he noted as he greeted the ladies Maxwell and Culpepper. Was Benjamin turning into a bit of pervert in his old age?

"Daniel Baxter" the man repeated to the braided woman " and yes, there's just one more of you I'm waiting for and then we're off"

Chris looked around and saw that a majority of the group were female. Some of the girls she wanted to befriend, some she wanted to avoid. Then there was the male writer. She smiled reassuringly, thinking he was nervous or something.

"Good, thought I'd get lost or something." She paused, trying to remember if she ever got seasick before. "I dunno, it's been a while since I've been out to sea, but I don't think I get seasick. Who knows, guess I'll have to find out."

Chris moved her small suitcase aside to make room for the others coming in. She hoped she packed everything that she needed, from toothpaste to pajamas to shoes. Well, if I do forget, I'm sure there's an island shop I can buy stuff from? I hope there is one...

The clicking sound of Javaid's luggage against the ground as he had scurried developed a song. It was the rushing theme song, the song of every traveler who had irresponsibly neglected to set their alarm clock to the proper time. He had been fortunate enough that the sound of a wild explosion from the television set had woken him up with an hour to spare. He had been even more fortunate that the trip to San Francisco International was not horribly far. It was a straight shot down the road. Idealistically perfect! Had he not been late already, that was. By the time he had made it to the gate, he was pushing luck just trying to get on board the plane before they shut the doors and took off.

Despite it all, he had made it. His thick hair had bounced loosely with his stride as he scanned the boats, desperately hoping that he hadn't made some mistake. It was a dream come true to imagine himself walking that harbor, finding that boat. It was like winning a trip to Willy Wonka's, and for a young man hailing from Joe's Pizza Parlor, that meant the world. He was one of the few to study with the master of literary arts himself, to go through that workshop, turn his own life around. How beautifully hectic it was to be running, torn between fears of being too late and self-assurance that he was right on time.

He was on time. His shoes had squeaked as he came to a halt, panting faintly as he lifted his rolling back off of the ground and planted it in front of them, his eyes keenly focused on the group.

"I'm sorry if I'm late." He had breathed, his chest heaving as his shoulders began to sink. "This is the boat to Baenare's workshop, right?" His eyes had flittered somewhat nervously as his tone lowered. He had cleared his throat, flexing his hand awkwardly as if wondering if he needed to extend it. Yet there were too many people; a handshake sounded incorrect to address a group. Rather, he had simply taken it and wiped his pale tanned forehead, inhaling a deep breath to calm himself down.

"If it is ... Javaid Mazin; my name is Javaid Mazin."

Moira Reed glanced around at the others accompanying her; two men to four women. Three, if Daniel counted, but she doubted he would be accompanying them further on after dropping them off on the island. She smiled a little at the question, lifting her shoulder and letting it drop idly. "I'll be fine on the water. Steady water's got no problem with me." It was the rockier water she was leery of, but looking across the water, it hardly looked like the raging rapids of Niagara Falls or anything of the like.

"Let's get this show on the road, huh?" She grinned, hefting her bag and picking up her laptop again. She was ready to start a new chapter in her life, literally and figuratively speaking.

Since he was a man, and good at moving things, Jason headed for the boat first, handing Daniel his luggage before he climbed in. "Um, I can help with the luggage," he told the captain. "I mean, moving stuff is what I do all day." Then he shoved his glasses up his nose, feeling a bit awkward for pressing himself forward, even if only to help.

He grabbed the largest looking life jacket from the box and shrugged it on before turning to the next person boarding to offer a hand. At least, he thought, if he moved carefully the ship didn't rock too badly.