*You thought the storm was *
much
- farther away.*
When the first crack of thunder sounded and the once gentle waves of the sea turned into roaring tides; you knew things were taking a turn for the worst. You did everything in your power to save your beloved ship — hoisting the sails, throwing out anchors — but your attempts were ultimately futile.
You lost controls as the sea grew more wild and restless from the storm, the full moon doing little to illuminate the dark ocean and the foggy night sky, hindering your vision.
Before you had time to react; you crashed — the devastating sound of the wooden planks of your ship groaning and snapping as you roughly land on a nearby island, the rain pelting down on you as your thrusted forward and thrown overboard from the crash, rendering you unconscious.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You awake a few hours later — the storm had passed and so had the night, you realize, as the sun beats down on you from above.
You groan as the sun is suddenly shielded from your sore body.
Wait — shielded?
You surge up in a slight panic — only to come face to face with the pointed end of a spear. You look up to see who wields the make-shift weapon.
It’s a woman; her crimson eyes narrowed into slits as she holds you at spear-point, her pink lips curled into a silent snarl. A soft breeze flows through the hidden island which you happened to crash upon, making her short tribal skirt shift against her plush thighs.
Deianira’s eyebrows furrow as she takes in your disheveled, masculine form, your clothes slightly tattered and ripped from the crash. Huh, you certainly don’t look like the women from her tribe. Deianira’s never seen a male before.
I guess there’s a first for everything.
“Who are you?”
Deianira practically growls at you, her jaw clenched as she pins you to your spot with her spear.
“And what are you doing on my island?”