O Shipwrecked [Open To All]

[Sam260]

Please use the code provided below to insert your character and roleplay!

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Character Name:
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Carrier/Seeder/Both:
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(Your RP Starts Here)

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Out of Character Information:

# Island is a fictional location; this is a world-building roleplay, and that means anything within reason can apply.
# No Mythical Creatures Exist -- I want to drive that point home -- You will NOT run into Kraken's, Mermaids, or other mythical creatures while partaking.
# If you are unsure if it's a 'safe' thing to put in, you can always ask me.  I see livestock (Wild Boars/Hogs, Birds, etc.) as well as various fruits (Berries, Oranges, Bananas) being apart of the landscape.
# Modern Technologies will not work (Laptops, Cellphones, Radios, etc.) As there are no cell towers or Wi-Fi access points on this island!  There is also no electricity on the island, but there is on the boat; it is a very short and limited supply though, and should only be used in an emergency situation.

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     The storm seemingly came out of nowhere.  Funnels spouting up and clouds darkening to a scary black.  Thunder and Lightening clapping loud over head.  It was terrifying, even if you weren't in the middle of the storm on the open water.  Unfortunately The Sea La Vie was just that boat; a forty-foot catamaran out on the open seas, charted for a simple voyage out on the coast so a group of rich college kids could party while the boat owner's were out of town for the weekend.

      But then the storm hit, and because said college students were not well-versed in handling the boat during a storm... The catamaran was swept off into the swirling storm.  Everyone at least knew that they should get below deck so that they did not get injured or thrown over board.  Despite being drunk, they were still smart enough to do that.  The storm seemed to last for a while, throwing the members aboard to and fro in the lower deck of the boat.  Some sustained minor injuries due to being knocked around, but nothing that could not be handled with simple first aid that, once no longer drunk and being tossed about, could easily be treated.

     Something out in the ocean stopped the boat in its tracks, and none were brave enough now to go out and find out why they had suddenly come to a stop.  The rain continued loudly battering the catamaran, the thunder was growing distant but was still there, as were the bright flashes of lightening across the inky sky.  Because they were finally no longer moving, each of the college students decided upon sleeping, if they could.  They took shifts, just in case anything more happened to them during the storm - but, they rode it out and stuck together, not once losing their cool or composure during what could have been a highly dangerous situation.

     As morning dawned upon them again, each student awoke from their drunken slumber and ventured topside of the Catamaran once again.  Only to find themselves on a medium-sized, uncharted island.  It was plentiful in foliage, sand, and in the distance you could see a mountain top.  Venturing off the boat, each college student took a handful of supplies that had been aboard ship and started lining them up on the shore, counting what little supplies they had brought with them - Junk food, beer and alcohol, a few first aid kits, clothes, and towels were their main supplies.  Of course they also had the boats bedding, but they were essentially without proper shelter, food, or drink.  Survival would be tough if they were not saved within a few days, and no one knew just where these students had ventured off too - no one had said a word to their parents, fellow students, or professors at the college; rescue could be something they were looking at in the far future, if ever.

[Sam260]

Character Name: Roswell "Ross" Edington 
Character Age: 23 Years Old
Carrier/Seeder/Both: Seeder
Character Description: Roswell stands at 6'2" (Six Foot Two Inches) and weighs approximately 180lbs (One-Eighty Pounds).  He has shoulder-length blonde hair with black streaks running through out it.  His eyes are powder blue (very light), almost white and sometimes are white depending on the lighting in which he's standing.  He is muscularly built, as any football player would be.  He has a tanned complexion and a gorgeous bright-white smile.
Character Biography (Small): Roswell was born wealthy - There was just no denying he was born into the life of the rich and glamorous.  His parents both being world-class lawyers, he had a silver spoon before he could even take a spoon.  He also just happens to be the 'boat owner's' child; making him the "responsible party".

Ross was always a popular kid in school.  He loved hanging out with his friends, kids he had known since grade-school, all the way up until now in their college years - there was no separating this pack.  They had always been tight and would always be tight, circumstances be damned.  He loved football, but his true passion was working with Kids.  He wanted to be a teacher, fall out of his parents footsteps and do something of his own - He wanted to encourage young minds and make them thrive.

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     Roswell was the first person to get off of the boat, carrying a large bundle of blankets and other linens.  His eyes traveled the length of sand that could be seen for what had to be miles on either side of the wrecked catamaran.  There were trees, bushes, and in the distance you could hear birds singing loudly and wild animals making noises of one sort or the other.

Fear was not an option here.  He had to take charge and be a leader for his friends.  He pasted on his best smile and turned to his group of friends once everyone was off and situated in the sand "We should set up homes, start building a fire..." He pointed to a clearing that would be perfect for building proper shelters and the fire itself "Two to a shelter, make it easier on us all... That way we don't have to build such a big place... Once we get that done, we'll find a way to get the mattresses off the boat so we don't have to sleep in the sand or on leaves."

They were all kind of rich, spoiled kids, and this situation was not ideal in the least bit, but they still had *some* luxuries that they could draw from, if only for a short period of time.  They would use what they could to their advantage until their boat supplies ran out, and then they would figure out how to hunt down the wildlife on the island and cook them so that no one went without food.  Luckily they were on an island ocean, and there were fishing rods on the boat as well - they could always eat fish too!

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Character Name: Rivers Dimare
Character Age: 22 Years Old
Carrier/Seeder/Both: Carrier
Character Description: Rivers has straight black hair that is cropped shorter on the sides and brushed back away from his forehead from the top. His eyes are a moss green with lashes that could be considered long for a guy. He stands at six foot one and weights 168 pounds, he has an slender and toned body but not quite as muscular as most of the other football players. He has a snake tattoo on his shoulder and arm that somewhat creeps up the side of his neck and can be seen at times peeking from the neckline of his T-shirts.
Character Biography: Like most of the students here-- Rivers was also born into a wealthy family. His father is a world class neurosurgeon and his mother a CEO of a generational family business, as such he doesn't often see either of his parents. It doesn't bother him though, and if anything has made him into a very outgoing and extroverted person. He plays football at the college as the position of running back.

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As soon as Rune stepped off the boat there was a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that wasn't from alcohol for once. The scene before him was certainly not something he was used to; sure he'd been on a cruise or two before with his folks but there were always crowds of people, tour guides, beautiful hotels that stood high above the water to support an impressive view. This had none of that.

Sure the water was there, but the sounds of birds and other animals he probably didn't know the names of were never in his vacations. He ran a hand across his forehead, already feeling the sweat threatening to bead across his skin.

Rivers' head turned up towards the sound of Roswell's voice that suddenly broke the silence, capturing everyone's attention. He was pretty impressed with the way the other seemed to be able to swallow the fear and nervousness and take control of the situation. Rivers knew deep down he'd have to do the same sooner or later and with a swallow he decided sooner would be better; for all of them.

He nodded his head into the direction of some small bushes and trees, "I'll see if I can collect some fire wood or branches for shelter material." Maybe if he were lucky he'd come across some fruit so they all wouldn't have to dine off the small supply of junk food they had on the wreckage of the boat.

[Sam260]

Roswell nodded in Rivers direction and shot him a smile "Sounds like a plan, Riv..." Roswell said as he ran a hand through his blonde-black hair, quickly tying it up into a small pony tail to keep it out of his face, sweat already starting to glisten his muscular body. He looked around as everyone else started dispersing as well, looking for things to gather.

He wasn't fond of just standing there, and without another living soul on this island but them, he didn't see a harm in going off himself. He jogged carefully through the sand and joined Rivers in the hunt for sticks. His smile plastered on his face hard, as if he was trying to convince himself - and everyone else - that they were going to be just fine.

"Sorry that we got stuck in this mess, Riv." Ros said with a light shrug of his broad shoulders, glancing around briefly "But, at least we're here together - among friends. Couldn't imagine if I were here with enemies or by myself..." Roswell shuddered and smirked, winking a light-blue eye in Rivers direction.

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Rivers pushed aside some of the smaller brush as he made his way towards the smaller trees that slowly grew into a denser forest. He chewed on his lower lip trying to remember that one year of boys scouts when he was eight that his parents forced him try before he adamantly refused to continue. Part of his brain remembered something that had to do with fire building but back then he was interested in anything other than what the scout master was saying. Oh if he could only go back in time and kick his own young ass and tell himself to pay attention, because of course back then he was thinking he'd never have to use this kind of stuff in the real world.

Well, look where you are now Rivers, he thought to himself with a sour expression, picking up a dry stick from the ground. At least he remembered that much; wet wood wouldn't burn. They'd probably need some dry leaves to get it going, at least at first. He was vaguely sure that he had a lighter somewhere in his belongings on the boat but wasn't positive that it hadn't been ruined by the water yet.

A voice behind him startled him, too lost in his thoughts and self berating to have heard Roswell coming up behind him. Rivers brushed a hand through his black hair and gave a heavy sigh while shooting a smile towards Roswell joining him on his stick hunt. "Jesus, you jumped the hell outta me," he let out a laugh, before relaxing and resuming his hunt for sticks. A scoff left his lips before he could stop it at Roswell's words.

"Oh right, because you definitely caused the storm," he shot back with a wink of his own as added another stick to the growing pile in his hand. "You are right about one thing though, I definitely wouldn't want to be in this mess on my own." He ran his gaze over Roswell when he thought he wasn't looking; he looked good with his hair pulled back and away from his face, and already there was a shine of sweat on his body. He diverted his eyes back to the ground as soon as he realized he was staring, only to catch sight of something red in the grass by Roswell's feet.

"Check it out," Rivers mentioned, pointing to the ground at the red fruit. "You think that's edible?"

[Sam260]

Roswell shook his head and shrugged a bit "I don't know, we could give it to one of the other guys... See how they feel after eating it, and if its edible, then we collect more. If not, we try and remember what it looks like and avoid it." Roswell said - it was slightly morbid, sure, but survival of the fittest was now a top priority of theirs, and removing the weaker links by poisonous fruits? Well, it wasn't the worst way to go, probably.

Roswell started collecting the small batch of berries and slid them into the front of his sleeveless hoodie. He kept his eyes focused on the ground and foliage, looking for more fruits or edible things, but occasionally - more often than not - his eyes drifted over to Rivers, especially when the other man was bending over to pick up more sticks. It was hard not to look at the other man; but this was not the time to be thinking with his downstairs head... He had to keep his actual wits about him and not let his still teenage hormones control his life.

There were several funky looking fruits on this island, and he started collecting them in whatever pockets he had, mostly his hoodie pocket since it was soft and expandable. He looked more like a squirrel or small rodent stocking up on food, with the way the pouch of his hoodie puffed out. "I wonder what else we can find to eat around here... I doubt anyone will survive sufficiently off of questionable berries." and that's when a loud snort reached their ears, just several feet in front of them was a wild boar. Roswell reached out quickly to Rivers, pulling the other man behind him "Whatever you do... No more sudden movements." Roswell said, deadly serious - he pulled a switchblade from his jean pockets and flicked it open, his white-blue eyes glaring daggers at the boar before them "If I kill it, at least we'll have something more substantial to eat... You got any weapons on you, Riv?"

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Rivers nodded at the plan, knowing himself that the idea was somewhat cruel and barbaric but there were few other options for them at the moment. Besides, he knew of at least a few members of their shipwrecked crew that would be less than helpful during their time of nee. To lose them for a few weeks due to illness, or even permanently from death, wouldn't hinder their survival. He took a few minutes to watch as Roswell bent down and picked a few of the berries before going back to his wood gathering.

Part of him could feel Roswell's eyes on him, and despite wanting to look back and meet those light blue eyes, he forced himself to keep focused on his task though his cheeks heated slightly. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about anything other than keeping them alive for the foreseeable future and despite being his incredibly active libido, that was not a priority. He looked up from his collecting at Roswell's words, looking up towards the trees as if they would bare fruit for them. "I dunno, but I bet if we keep searching we'll find someth--" He was cut off a loud animalistic snort and Roswell pulling him back behind the slightly taller male.

Right in front of them was a large boar and Rivers almost froze with fear, recalling some book he was forced to read in high school that mentioned pigs eating anything. Including human flesh. Green eyes flashed downwards at the sound of Roswell's knife clicking open, slightly surprised and impressed that he'd been carrying that around with him. He looked at the pile of sticks in his arms, fingers wrapping around the thickest and sturdiest one with the sharpest edge. "I've got a stick," he whispered back, keeping his tone low so not to startle or aggravate the boar in front of them. "Wasn't really planning on a fight. Sorry, Ross." He knew a stick wouldn't do too much damage, but even a wild animal would get stunned by just the right smack against the head.

[Klayko]

Character Name: Blake Farris
Character Age: 23
Carrier/Seeder/Both: Both
Character Description: The purest definition of an All-American if ever the term was the be coined to anyone. Blake stands at a sturdy six-foot-three with a lean physique to his frame spent from working out and posing for a few cameras to being a decent linebacker on his best days. He is a brunett, his hair a soft brown as opposed to a jet or full black, with contacts usually worn to help make his normal blue eyes pop to an icy gray. He wears his hair in a French Crop Style with just a little scruff which starts near the jawframe that connects towards his upper face and ears downward to the chin itself, that of which isn’t exactly pointy, but doesn’t scream being square-jawed nor cleft at the same time.
Character Biography (Small): Every city needs foundation and that’s what the Farris family excelled at, Farris Foundations Inc. to be quite exact. Daniel Farris was quite the proficient Architect alongside his wife Lana. Naturally, they hoped it would run off on to their three sons, Blake as the oldest clearly being their top choice. He was good with his mathematics, knew his way around a sketch and pencil and paper and could put together simple structures like a treehouse rather well. Still, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted in life. A rebellious phase, his parents called it. He went into sports over them wishing he pushed academics. He honored their request to Major in business, but truth be told, he had other ventures in mind. Lastly, apart of his rebelliousness, they assumed his attraction to men would also just go away, even putting him together with some homely girl clad out from the South who wanted nothing more than to essentially secure her bag with someone much more loftier than her. She wasn’t exactly a bad girl, but Lacy just wasn’t his type either. He made this clear, but now he was just simply going to have to show her more than he could tell her. Yes, Lacy was very much that underprivileged individual who was brought along the ride to be nothing more than one of the individuals who they ridiculed.


He was one of the last few off the boat, not by choice of his own. No. That belonged to the individual who insisted she bring as many bags than she could carry for a trip like this. High maintenance, dressing to impress; that was fine and all, but did Blake Farris really care? The answer was a flat-out no, especially when they came with the entitled diva flair and personality to themselves that made his blue eyes roll in annoyance. Still, he put on his best smile and carried her off the boat itself while holding on to their bags. The woes of someone poor trying to win the affection of someone who clearly barked up a different tree.

He was clad in a nice beige sweater, a red and black stripe around its v-neck form, followed with a nice white dress shirt underneath and pink shorts that stopped a little above his knees in form fitting fashion. His shoes were off because there was just no way he was going to trudge through heavy sand while carrying a wide load, not that Lacy was actually wide. She was just essentially dead weight and like it, he dropped her right on the sand while reserving an annoyed look to his face. He was just kidding though, as she put it with a giggle.

Roswell and Rivers were well gone at the current moment. That meant for now, he was going to focus on some his own skills by taking in the sights. There were pine trees, coconuts plastered on other trees here and there and even shoots of bamboo scattered among the forest.

“Hey, fetch me one of your sewing needles,” he commanded. “I can make some string from the coconuts up there. I should be able to get us something fastened around here.”

Oh, he was such a leading man in her eyes. She quickly reached for her own bags and found what he needed, but for good measure, he also told her to check the boat for some twine or rope as well. While she was away, he was able to focus on doing what he set himself out to do as he pulled a knife from his pocket. It might not be as clean as one would with a machete, but he could cut the bamboo with this, sharpen some of the ends so that they could be planted into the sand and weigh it down with something so they did not fall or rise out from it as a result. He was the son of an architect if nothing more, after all.

[Sam260]

A stick... He scoffed and shook his head "It'll have to do for now." He murmured, eyes still locked with the beast before them. He took a deep breath and glanced back at Rivers "If anything happens... Just run. I don't need you dying as well, alright?" Roswell readied the switchblade in his hand, fist tight around the handle as he stared the boar down. This was going to be tricky, and he really hoped he didn't die today - he wanted to see more of Rivers.

Ross took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He cleared his mind of all thoughts in that breath, even the man behind him. He lunged forward with a murderous scream and, being the expert football player that he was, tackled the boar to the ground with a well placed shoulder-check to the brute's chest.

The boar snorted loudly again as it was toppled to the ground, tusks thrashing wildly and legs kicking out to try and connect with Ross's body. The muscular frame of the man took a beating that would surely hurt come morning, but he sliced his way through thick tough skin, growling much like the boar beneath him "Fucker! We need you for food!" Ross shouted in its face, as if it would actually understand and submit to his will. It did not. It put up a hefty fight, even catching a tusk in one of Ross's arms for a brief moment; ripping the skin open in the process.

Ross yelped in pain before plunging his knife forward to where he was certain the beasts heart was, pushing it in as deep as the blade would go. The boar's fight was slowly draining, life blood seeping into the sandy terrain beneath them. Ross hung his head in what looked like defeat or exhaustion, his arm was bleeding heavily and bruises were already forming on his tanned complexion, although those wouldn't be very visible until he was undressed.

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"Fuck!" Rivers cried out as he watched the scene go down before him. He stood, watching in awe for a moment as Roswell battled the beast before noticing a tusk enter into his arm. Tossing the sticks to the side he rushed over to where Roswell was kneeling on the ground, only for a brief moment did his eyes go to the boar that stumbled around in the grass for a brief moment before falling heavily to the ground with a squeal. "Dammit," he cursed again, gently moving Roswell's arm to get a better look at the wound. "You're not bleeding out on me, you hear?" He growled out, slipping the plain white tee he wore over his head.

He managed to rip the shirt into two; wrapping one half around the open wound while tightly tying the other slightly above the wound to stop the blood from flowing too quickly. He didn't question his thought process, it was probably something he'd picked up in a movie or some drama TV show his mother always loved to watch.

Pale hands stained slightly with blood gently lifted Roswell's head up, running a hand through blonde and black hair as moss green eyes searched for blue. "Hey, Ross? You did it alright? You got us food. Now I know you're probably hurting all over, but I need you to come back to the others with me okay?" Slowly he tried to pull the other boy up without jostling him or hurting his already battered body too badly. "Just lean on me as much as you want, I can take it. I'll get you sitting comfortably by the boat and I'll come back for the sticks and the meat."

Green eyes turned towards where the boar lay silently, not a breath leaving it's body anymore. Carefully, without moving Roswell too much, he reached down and pulled the knife from the creature's chest. Flicking the blade back into its closed position he stuck the pocket knife back into Roswell's pocket, not wanting to lose what could be one of their few weapons.

[Sam260]

Roswell nodded his head slowly, groaning as he was lifted up. His eyes hazily sought out the boar and he smiled triumphantly - he had never done anything like it before, and was surprised that it actually worked. Although he was in a hell of a lot of pain now, and it probably wouldn't go away anytime soon. The white t-shirt was already staining in blood, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been without the make-shift tourniquet around his upper arm.

He stumbled his way across the sand and grass, almost leaning too much into Rivers side to get back to where their boat had been. Luckily they hadn't gotten too far away before the Boar came up on them. He was wondering though, why the boar had acted so aggressively in the first place. Maybe they had come upon its den? Were there small piglets in that area? He couldn't think about it though, his mind going fuzzy and his vision swimming with black dots.

He was settled down in the warm sand and he groaned as he laid himself back, a sweat - not from the heat - already breaking out on his flesh. Surely he wasn't infected, but the fact that the boar had sliced through his arm, tearing up veins that were likely important and vital to surviving, he had lost enough blood already and it showed in the way his skin was paling from its normally tan complexion. His blue eyes opened and he sought refuge in Rivers green eyes "Don't let me die, Riv..." he coughed out, trickle of blood escaping his mouth and running down the side of his cheek "I'm not ready to die, ya hear me? I'm *not* ready."

[Klayko]

Blake hummed to himself when examining every material over. He pulled out his journal to just make a few mental calculations and imaging before he was ready to begin. He might have given himself a few splinters here and there, but that was nothing a heated needle or tweezers couldn’t cure with just a simple pluck. The Bamboo was nicely cut and all that came next was the coconuts themselves. Blake made sure none of them hit his head when they plunged to the ground below. He took the knife and began to shave the shells, collecting them to make the string with. Everything else as a result began to fall in place. The bamboo plunged through the cracked upper shell of the coconut themselves as he figured they would eat from the fruit, but also use the outer casing as the support needed to dig the bamboo into into the ground and help make a stable refuge. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, but it would certainly keep them safe from Mother Nature, mostly.

By the time Lacy returned, Blake was using the bags as a makeshift set of steps to place tropical leaves down on top of the practically perfectly rectangle shaped hut fit to house more than two individuals inside. Four may be the max, so that meant he would have to make more. For now, though, after spending countless minutes, he was just relaxing and waiting on the other two to arrive from their ventures out in the wild.

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Rivers managed to settle Roswell down in the sand, propped up against a large rock that stood up among the beach. A hand nervously ran across his mouth as he noticed Roswell's condition getting worse. He knew Roswell since they'd entered college, playing football by the other boy's side for years. Seeing him in the condition, he shook him to his core. He was scared, and he was fucking scared he wasn't afraid to admit it. Green eyes wandered the beach for anyone close enough to help him because he had no idea what he was doing right now.

Roswell's words struck him hard, and he found himself grasping for the wounded boy with unshed tears stinging at his eyes. "I'm not going to let you die, Ross," he murmured back to the blonde who had to have been in shock at this point. Unsure of what was guiding him to do it, maybe reassurance for both of them, he leaned forward to press his lips against Roswell's sweaty temple. A stray hand reached up to wipe away the trickle of blood that trickled the corner of his lip, doing nothing but spreading the crimson further across his cheek. "You're not going to die here. I promise you."

Frantically searching the beach, Rivers noticed Blake and the girl, Lacy, not too far away. Finding his voice, he managed to call the other boy's name with a shaky breath. "Blake," he cried out, unwilling to leave Roswell's side to go and fetch him himself. Blake seemed busy with his own project but Rivers prayed that he heard his frightened voice over the rush of the waves. "Come here." His fingers didn't leave the fabric of Roswell's sleeveless hoodie were they had lodged themselves. "Please help me."

[Klayko]

Blake was sipping on some of the juice from the coconut while also doing his best to ease away from Lacy when he heard a voice. His eyes shot to sharp attention as he looked forth to see Rivers. He did his best to wave out to him, but he brought it back down the moment he realized something was not exactly right. While he might have had no loving care for Lacy, he wasn’t exactly an asshole to leave her by herself. As a result, she was coming with.

“Rivers...” he said in mild confusion as he came close. “What’s going...”

His eyes saw all he needed to see up close. There was blood on the other male and Roswell himself was nowhere to be seen. What had the imbecile gotten himself into. Blake scoffed before saying “I knew he had to suffer from some kind of concussion to pull crazy stunts like hunting for food.”

With the two being athletes, lifting the wounded male up was no issue. Rivers seemingly knew what he was doing to help keep Roswell stably steady, but Lacy seemingly proved some usefulness with herself as well. That ditzy bubblheaded facade eased away to a more serious tone when she looked down at the severely wounded male.

“Get me the med kit out my bag,” she insisted. “I can take care of this.”

Maybe her and Rivers both could. He knew Lacy to be a practicing nurse after all.

“Did he at least kill the animal,” Blake inquired. “I can go make myself useful and get it while you two do whatever you need to.”

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Rivers couldn't express how relieved he was when Blake and Lacy made their way over to where he knelt in front of Roswell. Already Roswell's forehead felt clammy to the touch, the sweat that covered it made it that much more obvious that they needed to get the bleeding stopped in a more efficient way than his own attempt at a tourniquet. Releasing the death grip he had on Roswell's hoodie, he and Blake moved Roswell closer to the wrecked ship so they were closer to the medical supplies.

His eyes darted to Lacy who seemed to get serious and take control of the situation. He heard her ask for the med kit from her bag but wasn't exactly sure if she was talking to him and not being willing to leave Roswell's side he didn't make a move towards wherever it was her bag was to begin with. Instead he turned his wide green eyes to Blake at the other athlete's question.

"Yeah--uh, he got the boar. It's that way, not too far from here," he swallowed the lump in his throat as he pointed towards the direction of where they'd come from. "We'd just been gathering firewood when it showed up." Both hands went to run through his hair, not caring that they were spotty with Roswell's blood. Speaking of blood... "It shouldn't be hard to find. It was messy."

Rivers turned his gaze back to Lacy, impatient to get Roswell's bleeding stopped. "Do you have a needle and thread or something? Anything that we can sew it up with? He's lost a lot of blood already." He was nervous and jittery, biting his bottom lip harshly as he tried to pull himself together. Would Roswell have been acting this panicked if the roles had been reversed? He needed to get himself together.

"What do you need me to do? That tourniquet was quick and not particularly efficient." He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "We can't lose him."

[Klayko]

Consider Lacy impressed. Rivers undoubtedly did his best at keeping the wound sustained with a makeshift tourniquet. However, they needed to operate quickly while Blake was out and away to retrieve what he could.

“Yea, of course,” she stated in regards to having a needle and thread. She never left anywhere without a kit and spare needles to use. Go figure it was actually needed on an island. “First, we really need to clean the area up as much as possible.”

And they only had such a small time frame to do it, too. No doubt, Rivers himself probably knew the area of which Roswell was wounded, so she left that to him while she did her best to put pressure down on the wound with gloves. He would clean it and then stitch it if he was confident in his skills.

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Luckily enough within the med kit Lacy had with her he was able to find a small bottle of saline solution, the unfortunate part was that he didn't have any cloth on him to soak the liquid in. There were some bandages in the med kit but he wasn't about to waste them on cleaning a wound when they were far more efficient for covering them. He reached back into Roswell's pocket and retrieved the pocket knife he'd returned earlier, flicking it up to cut a piece of fabric from the hem of his shorts.

Now that he had fabric he used as little saline as he dared to wet a part of the fabric so he could clean the wound on Roswell's arm. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but his hands were still shaking from the entire experience. Honestly he really had no idea what he was doing, it was pure adrenaline that had kept him going this far and he was pretty sure afterwards he could use a good nap. He'd never really gotten to know Lacy during her time hanging around Blake, but at the moment he was beyond happy to have her there; thoroughly impressed by her ability to stay calm.

"Alright," he managed to get out when he deemed himself finished with the cleaning. Blood still seeped from the wound but it was slower now. Whether that was from Roswell loosing too much already or clotting he didn't want to think too hard about. "I think it's good." He knew what was next, the stitching, and while he wasn't confident in his ability to preform such a task he'd do his damndest for Ross' sake.

[Sam260]

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Ross would be weak from the loss of blood, but no one expected that he would once again be awake so soon. Ross' eyes fluttered open and he groaned quietly, powder blue eyes seeking out anything familiar. A smile crept across his lips slowly as his eyes focused on Rivers familiar green eyes.

"You can do this, Riv." Ross said quietly, reaching his uninjured hand up to Rivers face and lightly tracing the outlines of his cheekbone "I believe in you, and I only trust you to do it. C'mon, your dad is a doctor. I'm sure you have something in that brain of yours that will guide you through this."

Ross smiled and gently brought Rivers' face down to his own, pressing a gently kiss to the other man's lips "You'll do just fine." Ross said quietly before laying back down in the sand, his palm still resting right on Rivers cheek and his powder blue eyes still staring up into Rivers' moss green eyes. They were the prettiest eyes he had ever seen, and Ross was sure he could stare into them forever.

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Green eyes wide, Rivers was shocked to say the least. He wasn't expecting Roswell to regain consciousness so quickly let alone have the strength to pull him down for a light kiss. He could feel his cheeks burn slightly with a heated blush and for some odd reason the shaking in his hands stopped suddenly at the action. Completely forgetting Lacy next to him, he simply nodded against the hand resting on his cheek. "Alright," he spoke quietly to Roswell. "I'll take care of you."

Taking the needle and thread from Lacy, he started on the left side of the wound. While he'd never watched his father preform surgery, he tried to use as much common sense as he could and trust in the little knowledge he'd picked up over the years; faintly remembering flipping through his father's medical books as a young boy.

He was worried that when he first pierced the skin he'd hurt Roswell but the other boy didn't seem to flinch and he realized that the shock probably helped numb him. Leveling out the needle he went through the wound and found the other side of skin, keeping close to the edges though not too close to make it easy to tear. He pulled lightly and let the edges of skin touch without puckering before going diagonal across the wound and repeating the process.

In Rivers head it felt like an hour before he managed to stitch the wound shut whereas it probably only took him a couple of minutes at the most. Finally able to relax once he made the finishing knot so it wouldn't come undone, resting heavily on his hands as he leaned forward to examine his work. It certainly wasn't hospital grade work but it would hold and already the bleeding had stopped.

Bringing a hand up to run through Roswell's hair he gave a tired smile, suddenly exhausted by the lack of adrenaline rushing through him. "I'll just give it a light clean with the stitches in and you're done, okay? I told you I wouldn't let you die."

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Ross nodded and smiled weakly, he looked down at the stitch work on his arm - it was a little wonky, but given that Rivers had never done a thing like it before, he wouldn't be too upset by the uneven lines. "You did great, Riv... Really great. I'm proud of you." Ross said quietly, reaching up once again with his uninjured hand to gently card his fingers through Rivers' hair.

He allowed Rivers to clean the wound and then wrap a light dressing around the stitches so that they wouldn't get wet or dirty. Slowly he sat up again, leaning back against the rock outcrop that was near their wrecked boat. He sighed and smiled up at Rivers "You didn't let me die, that's for sure."

Ross gently took Rivers hand and squeezed it lightly before giving it a tug until the other man was by his side, and he tucked Rivers underneath a muscular arm - the good one - and kissed his temple lightly. He glanced over at Lacy who was putting away her things and he chuckled lightly "Hey, Lacy, maybe you should go and check to see if Blake needs any help, huh? He's been gone a while... Maybe he got hurt too?" Ross questioned, wanting to spend at least a small amount of time alone with Rivers, because clearly they needed to talk about what was going on between them, and having Lacy around would do more harm than good at this point.