[The scent of the waves, the salt in the air, these are what Benedict and Morella both awaken to. The ship had splintered into many parts under the brutal force of the storm, like a colorful piece of construction paper torn to shreds by a toddler (and then gnawed on because it looks like candy), and if other passengers survived, well. They aren’t here.

Morella’s here. Red headed, freckly, dressed in some sort of school uniform. She lifts her head to blink blearily in the direction of the disapproving glare of the sun, and lets out a sound that’s more a whimper than anything else.]

I am going to get so sunburned out here…