<strong>PC</strong>Galacia (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=685364)<br/><strong>Location</strong>In the lifeboat/In the town<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>Brogan, Any<br/><br/>People always talk about how, when faced with moments of great stress or danger, that things seem to slow down to a crawl, but for her, things seemed to go by almost too fast. She felt helpless as she stepped into the lifeboat, like there was something she could have done or something she<em>should</em>have done that could have saved more of those sharing the ship with her. When the captain plunged into the flames, Galacia stood among the huddled bodies crowded in the lifeboat with a gasp, a sturdy hand grabbing her by the wrist as she tried to move forward. "Nothing you can do, lass." The same sailor that had helped her into the boat was now anchoring her to it, trying to comfort her after watching the captain die in front of her eyes. "A captain always goes down with the ship. It's what she would have wanted." Galacia took her place back in the crowded lifeboat with a resigned sigh, her gaze lingering up at the ship as the lifeboat was lowered into the churning waters.<br/><br/>Galacia spent the uneasy night with her backpack huddled closely against her chest, the side of her face resting against the top of it, clinging to it like it was keeping her afloat rather than the boat under her. The ride was unpleasant to say the least, the first few hours of awkward silence as no one particularly knew what to say and the smell that can only be created by dozens of soaked and singed bodies that had been at sea for months all packed into one boat and clinging to life. Galacia's eyes occasionally wandered toward where Brogan was sitting, as if she wished to speak but couldn't find the words. She wanted to say something to him for offering his help when others might have cared only for themselves. Even though she was in little actual danger, it was still a nice gesture but, for now, her lips continued to stay sealed, as they would for the rest of the night, as she maintained her hold on her backpack and seemingly retreated from the world around her, lost in her own thoughts. Her mind couldn't help but linger on the subject of death; those that had died on the ship and her own possible impending death.<br/><br/>After hours of agonizing uncertainty, the tarp was finally removed as the last traces of night disappeared and the despair hanging over the boat seemed to be pulled back with it. The ocean had mercifully carried them toward their destination in the night and had left them within sight of the other two ships making the voyage. When land was spotted, she moved for the first time in what seemed like hours, her head turning back to look over her shoulder, taking in the isolated island. As the others cheered, hugged, and celebrated, Galacia remained still and emotionless, still wrapped around her belongings in the same position she had been in all night. She should have been happy - she was alive and being here is what she wanted, after all - but the thought of death was something she couldn't shake. She couldn't remember the faces or names of those that weren't among her now; she rarely offered the sailors anything more than a friendly smile or wave as they went about their days. With the business she had to attend to and the rumors surrounding the island itself, she knew death was far from being put behind her. She'd have to face it every day and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she were to die out there in the island's jungle. Would she end up like the sailors on the ship, barely remembered and alone, hoping and begging for help that wasn't coming? It was a chilling thought, one that dampened what should have been a happy moment for her. For the first time since she began this journey, she was faced with doubts: doubts about herself, her abilities, and her reason for coming here. Was it really worth it?<br/><br/>Galacia continued to keep to herself as the boat livened up, the new lease on life leading to a much more active and talkative bunch of sailors. The drinks and food passed down to them were declined with a shake of her head as they were offered to her, her expressionless face and distant eyes contrasting against the happiness around her. She didn't feel like celebrating, especially not with alcohol. It had always been a peasant's pastime as far as she was concerned, a dirty habit held by dirty people and one of the few things in the world she truly hated - she hated the smell, the taste, the way it changed people. As if her depressing thoughts weren't making her miserable enough, here she was, surrounded by sailors in a tiny boat as they tilted back drink after drink, celebrating life and becoming more inebriated and rowdy as the boat pulled them up to the island.<br/><br/>Even with the stiffness in her body, she quickly made her way onto land, her backpack still held tightly in her arms as she simply refused to stick around and take part in any further celebrations the sailors might have planned. While she appreciated their work to get her here, she wanted little to do with them anymore. All she wanted for now was to enjoy a warm meal and a bed that didn't rock back and forth as she slept. And so she made her way toward the quaint island town, the significance of finally setting foot on the island being pushed aside for now as she was instead more focused on getting back to "normal" now that the ocean was behind her.