Re: PLANE CRASH! « Result #1 on Sept 8, 2009, 8:27pm »
Ray didn't really remember much. There was some shaking and some flickering of cabin lights and some dropping down of those disturbing little masks that he never listened to the demonstrations for. Luggage was falling from the overheads and people were screaming. Then there was a sound like metal tearing as though it was so much crepe paper, a lot of windyness ... and that was the point at which he'd passed out.
All had been peaceful after that. Except for just right now. A sharp pain was running up one of his arms, and instead of a fluffy pillow or something, he was face-down in something unpleasantly warm and grainy.
Pushing himself up -- and wincing as his bad arm screamed at him -- Ray brushed the sand off his face and opened his eyes. He was on a beach. Lots of people were on a beach. With lots of airplane debris. And his arm was bleeding pretty heavy and felt distinctly broken.
That was great. That was fucking greatness. "Fuck," he said, quite loudly to hear himself over the panicky din. For good measure, he added another one. "Fuck."
Re: PLANE CRASH! « Result #2 on Sept 7, 2009, 11:01pm »
Apparently Ian had been laying on her, cutting off the blood flow to her leg and numbing it, because when he rolled off, the blood began pumping again and pain shot through it. Coughing, Sydney pushed herself up - the world spun, and she nearly fell back over.
"You sound in worse shape than me." She whispered with a crooked grin. At least she could talk without wheezing. Hopefully he hadn't broken any ribs - bruised would be better, because they would heal faster. She looked down at her leg - her jeans were ripped open, revealing the long bleeding gash down her leg. She winced slightly. "Well, that doesn't look good."
Sydney glanced at Ian. "Come here." She stated and pressed a hand against his side. "Sorry if this hurts." She murmured, trying to tell if he'd broken any ribs.
Re: PLANE CRASH! « Result #3 on Sept 7, 2009, 10:22pm »
He was dying. He had to be. Nothing in life could hurt this bad. He felt like somebody had stuck a pair of pruning shears into his chest and just started snapping away at things. Felt like they'd done a pretty good job of it, too. He took a deep breath, and was slightly relieved to find that while it was extremely painful, it didn't sound or feel like he had any fluid in his lungs. Well, that was good, anyhow, but he felt like he was lying on top of something somewhat soft, but unyielding. He forced his eyes open, and discovered that the thing he was lying half on top of was Sydney.
He rolled over, quite painfully, and stared up at the blue sky, obscured by hazy smoke, wondering where the hell he was. Sydney's voice was the only thing he seemed to be able to focus on, and he tried to sit up, letting out a loud groan at the pain that wracked his chest. She thought they'd crashed? Yes, he figured that was a pretty safe bet.
"I'm...I'm okay." he managed, wheezing a little. "I'm...alive anyway. Syd...shit, Syd, you're bleeding."
Re: PLANE CRASH! « Result #4 on Sept 7, 2009, 8:43pm »
Sarah had an extreme headache.
It probably had something to do with the fact she was hanging upside down, and all the blood was rushing to her head. Her heart was still pounding in her chest - unfortunatley, she had not blacked out during the entire crash, and had seen it all from her seat. She'd merely closed her eyes and felt a sudden jolt - She was still strapped in her seat, hanging upside from a tree near the edge of a beach.
She reached down, fumbling with the belt for a moment, but it refused to come loose. Glancing around, her chances for help were slim - everyone down below was running and screaming around like a swarm of idiots, still near the flaming plane wreckage she'd just been flung from.
Re: PLANE CRASH! « Result #5 on Sept 7, 2009, 8:36pm »
Sydney groaned as her eyes flickered open, flooding her eyes with unwanted light. She blinked several times, raising her hand up to shade her eyes. The sun shone brightly down on her as her other hand curled around something - grainy? Sand? She frowned and glanced down - sure enough, she'd grabbed a fistful of sand. She was laying on a stretch of beach. Somewhere farther off she could hear screams and shouts, and feel the heat of flames somewhere near her left, but she hardly registered it.
For a moment, she found, she couldn't move. It was then she realized Ian was half laying across her, pinning her down to the sand. She nudged him.
"Ian get off. I think... I think we crashed." She managed to murmur, reaching up to her forehead. When she pulled her hand back, it was covered with blood. That was obviously not good. She nudged her friend again.
Name: Ian Alexander Fifield Nicknames: Ian, although he heads an Electronica act and goes by the stage name Adrenaline on occasion. Age: 20 Gender: Male Occupation: Musician
Any prior relationships with passengers: Bandmates/hoplessly crushing on Sydney Saxby
Personality: Ian is extremely vivacious, and to some people, it appears that he never runs out of energy. Being on stage is the love of his life (aside from Sydney, who's been his best friend since forever), and he loves being the center of attention in any situation (unless he's done something humiliating to warrant it). He can't sing all that well without the assistance of electronic distortion, but that's what Sydney's around for, after all.
He has a tendency to obsess over things, particularly his music, and it can make him blind to a lot of other things in his life, including personal interactions. He isn't very close with his parents; he hasn't spoken to them or his twin brother in nearly three years. The band is his life, pretty much, and it's partially his single-minded pursuit of fame, that perseverance that has landed them near the top of the charts for the last two years.
History: Ian was born in Connecticut, to a media celebrity mother and a stay at home father, who did their best to raise him in a normal, stable home. He was the wilder child of a set of twins, and while he and his brother Malcolm were nearly inseparable, they also fought constantly. He rebelled a bit in high school, though, and was at odds with his parents, sneaking out to go to parties, concerts, and various other outings he probably shouldn't have been at. It was at a concert that Ian met Sydney Saxby, who would become his bandmate and the girl he held an undying affection for (which he never quite got up the guts to tell her). The two of them started a band, a pop/rock/electronica act called Atomic Penguin. Ian, having been forced to undergo piano lessons by his parents since he was three years old, picked up electronic keyboard and synth relatively easily, and also had no problem showing off his dance moves on stage.
He and Sydney got a recording contract and eventually went on tour, moving through the United States first, then on to other parts of the world. They weren't part of the mainstream celebrity circuit all the time, but they became quite popular in the electronic scene and in dance clubs, much to Ian's personal satisfaction. They kept production costs down, took commercial flights instead of private jets like a lot of people would have done in their position, and before long, were making a decent amount of money with their music.
Sarah Kingston « Result #8 on Sept 7, 2009, 2:00pm »
Name: Sarah Kingston
Nicknames: None.
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Occupation: Ex-singer of the band Herb Chicks (Generic Spice Girls lool)
Any prior relationships with passengers: Her sexy husband.
Personality: Sarah is quiet and content most of the time, and spends most of her time anymore reading. She's friendly, and hardly ever not seen smiling, unless she's very distressed. Her temper is rarely seen in public - she doesn't like to show many emotions to people she's not close to.
History: Sarah was born in a small town outside Rochester, New York. Her mother was an actress, who went off to pursue her dream, leaving her father to raise her. Her father remarried, and Sarah soon got a step-brother, Toby. They didn't exactly get along, but Sarah probably would have run a labyrinth or something to get him if need came to be. After college, she formed a band called the Herb Chicks with several of her college buddies and moved to London, where they became an instant hit. At one point, they all attended a Rugby game where she met Jareth, one of the star players. One of her bandmates introduced her. But as Herb Chicks soon began to fail Sarah's courtship with Jareth seemed to be all over London, and not long after Sarah quit the band, they got married. They were vacationing in Sydney when they boarded the fateful plane.
Sydney Saxby « Result #9 on Sept 7, 2009, 1:19pm »
Name: Sydney Saxby
Nicknames: Syd
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Occupation: Rockstar fosho.
Any prior relationships with passengers: Ian is her bestie and bandmate.
Personality: Sydney is normally very outgoing and just all in all happy about life. She loves spending time with friends and loves to laugh - and make others laugh too. She's carefree. But she can also be very stubborn, and has a sharp temper if you anger her enough. Don't piss her off. Piss her off and die.
History: Sydney was born in New York City, to a mother and father who were already in a band, so as a kid, she traveled alot with both her parents. She literally grew up in a tourbus, knowing very well how to dance, sing, and play guitar. She was home-schooled all of her life as well. At one of concerts they stopped at when Sydney was about 16, she met Ian, and after a few days together, they decided to start their own band. Sydney's parents were glad for her, and allowed her to stay behind while they went ahead for touring. She and Ian haven't seperated since, and have become a bit popular in their band, Atomic Penguin.
Name: Peter Raymond Conoy Nicknames: Ray Age: 35 Gender: Male Occupation: Novelist
Any prior relationships with passengers: Ex-husband of Stella Malkovitch.
Personality: As a novelist, it's Ray's job to be clever, to have a flair for creativity and characterization, and he does. He's worked with a lot of people at various police precincts for research and has picked up on some profiling techniques that have made him a fair hand at reading people and understanding what motivates them to do the things they do. While his subdued exterior might not make him seem prone to wild bursts of imagination, he's actually got quite a talent for inventing things - ask his ex-wife, who's had to endure more than a couple of made-up excuses from him (hey, he's good at coming up with the stuff; his delivery's still a little lacking). Ray also understands that the devil is in the details, pays close attention to his surroundings (even if it does require his glasses to do so) and notices when things are off; he's always been the perceptive type.
Insecurity is Ray's biggest downfall - as cheesy as it sounds, he doesn't really believe in himself. He knows he's good at his job, because they wouldn't've put him on the bestseller list if he wasn't, but when it comes to every day life, his self-esteem isn't the best. He can be pretty shy at times because of this, feeling like maybe his contribution to the conversation isn't really one worth hearing, and in the few relationships Ray's been in, he's come off as far beyond clingy. He wants to be needed more than he wants to be happy - he tried, he did, but he just hasn't been able to change that, which was what drove every girl away, every time, and gave him his cynical outlook on life and especially love.
He's also an inherently quirky guy, however much he tries to hide that fact. Ray has mild aphasia, which leads him to jumble or forget words at times, but luckily for his writing career he can always use his computer's spellchecker and thesaurus if he has trouble - not so great for polite conversation, though. Coffee is a staple of the Ray Conoy diet; the guy can't function without at least one cup in the morning, black, with six Smarties very carefully counted out and dropped into it. He also enjoys dancing (the waltz, mainly) and has a fondness for turtles. He owns one, and in a stroke of creative genius has named it Turtle.
History: Born and raised in the crappy Chicago district of West Racine to a meat-packer, Damian, and a dentist's secretary, Barbara, Peter Raymond Conoy didn't have a lot growing up. He was the younger of two kids and copped a lot of teasing and many casual beatings from his older brother, Mark, and the other neighbourhood kids for being quiet and doing well at school. Ray, as he liked to be called, didn't make friends very easily and although his parents tried to help him, they were just too busy putting food on the table to devote enough time to their son's social habits. Still, Ray survived school okay, getting especially high grades in English classes despite his timidity and odd speech condition.
During high school he endured basically the same kind of taunting and indifference from the other teenagers, opting to hang out in the library at every opportunity to get away from the stress. He enjoyed reading - fiction, nonfiction, genre, nothing like that mattered to him as long as he could read it and learn from it - and during his secondary schooling career, Ray developed a yearning to create his own stories. His English teachers were impressed with his ability, his classmates less so, but Ray wasn't concerned. He just did what he liked because he liked it.
After graduation, he went on to college and majored in creative writing, doing some work experience at a small newspaper during the summer. His writing blossomed. His social skills...not so much, although he did date a bit (blondes mostly). A few legitimate story ideas began lodging themselves in Ray's mind and he laboured in his spare time to commit them to paper (or hard drive, as the case may be). After earning his degree, he got hired by the newspaper full time, working there for a year before his first novel, a science fiction murder mystery set in a dystopian future, caught the attention of his boss, who had a few buddies in the publishing industry. To Ray's utter shock and awe, they loved it, and it became an instant bestseller.
Still writing, and earning enough cash from book sales to set himself and his folks up in a much nicer part of Chicago, Ray started to get invited to things. Charity events, fundraisers, whatever was going on in the literary world at the moment. People liked his books and wanted to get to know him, and somewhere along the line, he started accumulating influential friends and becoming influential himself. It was, in his words, "kinda great". Until the Era of Stella.
Stella Malkovitch was beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed and lots of other very attractive things that start with B. She was also a ladder-climber in his publisher's agency, and soon became his personal publishing agent. They hit it off, they liked each other, they dated. They fell in love and got married. And then they...divorced. Ray doesn't like to talk, or even think, about the details of that particular venture, but it left him the worse for wear and just that little bit poorer. She got half his savings, he got a new agent and they both tried their hardest to forget each other existed.
With ten successful novels under his belt and a great deal of unexpected fame in literary circles, Ray's on his way around the world for a global book signing tour. Too bad that's not gonna end so well.
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