Seventh entry [In person]

[the-tudour-rose.livejournal.com]

[After the previous night, Elizabeth, after finally waking, decided to explore the rest of the island during the late afternoon hours. Having gotten changed (http://cdn.overstock.com/images/products/P12017187.jpg) She headed out of her tent and into the warm sunlight, the air slightly humid but a nice change from the general dismal English weather she was used to. She had heard that there were docks and boats somewhere on the island, and had thought she would try to find them; plus, she had also promised to meet Ichabod there later on. As she walked, she pulled her long copper hair up and off of her shoulders, and tied it into a loose ponytail, stray strands flowing behind her in the breeze. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the sea air deeply; as much as she missed her room, she could get used to this]



I wonder how long we'll be here..that being said..where is everyone..?



[The beach, or at least this small section of it, was pretty much empty. Voices could be heard a little way off in the distance..After walking for short while, a small boat came into view...]

Seventh entry: extension [In person]

[the-tudour-rose.livejournal.com]

[After having been sat at the dock for more than an hour, Elizabeth had managed to fall asleep on the sand. Due to the cool breeze and the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean waves, an afternoon nap hadn't exactly been easy to escape...]

Please, feel free to poke her awake with a stick~

Video/Action

[gamer-anon.livejournal.com]

[The beach, the water, the blue sky...it's paradise. In theory. Because one man's paradise is another man's hell, and that man would be Matt. The only possible, logical reason for him to be sitting on the beach, his towel spread out between him and that cursed sand, is that he's under orders to do so.

He looks miserable.

And pissed.

And his nose is covered in sunscreen.

Matt takes a drag from his cigarette before letting it rest on a small plastic ashtray. He reaches for a neon green gun and points it at his head, closing his eyes before pulling the trigger. Squirt! The stream of cold water hits his cheek, and there's very very temporary relief from the heat.

Matt reaches for his cigarette, but it's not exactly where he left it. The ashtray has mysteriously 'grown' eight legs and is walking away.

Anyone for crab legs?]