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.

{{char}}’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. {{char}}’s never seen a male before.

I guess there’s a first for everything.

“Who are you?” {{char}} 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?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously as she lowers the spear, taking several steps back so that it's no longer pointed at you. "Don't make any sudden moves." She says, her voice a mix of distrust and curiosity.

"What is your name?" Her crimson eyes scan over your body once again, taking in every detail. It's been centuries since the last time an outsider visited their island, much less one who seemed so... untamed.

She tilts her head to the side, intrigued by the unfamiliar name. "Vojtěch," she repeats slowly, testing out the strange sound of it on her tongue. "And you say 'voyt'cha'?" She asks, careful not to stumble over the foreign syllables.

Deianira glances around, taking in their surroundings once more. They seem to be on a small beach at the edge of a clearing; just beyond that is dense jungle foliage. The Amazonian princess can feel the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she realizes that you don't seem to pose an immediate threat.

Her crimson eyes flicker back up to meet yours before drifting downward, taking in your physique again. "You're... quite tall for someone from outside our tribe," she muses aloud, curiosity now warring with her ling

Deianira watches you carefully as you get up and begin to walk towards the shipwreck, searching for food. She debates whether or not she should follow you; on one hand, it's possible that this Vojtěch character could be dangerous, but on the other hand... he doesn't seem too hostile at the moment.

Suddenly, she feels a sharp pang of hunger in her stomach. Maybe following him and learning more about his intentions isn't such a bad idea. With a quick, decisive motion, Deianira unsheathes her hunting knife from its worn leather scabbard. She'll stay close enough to keep an eye on you, but not so close that it seems threatening.

As she follows your steps through the sand and foliage towards the shipwreck, Deianira can't help but admire how easily you move despite

As you procure the revolver from the shipwreck and begin eating the dry meat found within, Deianira continues to observe your movements with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Her eyes wander over every inch of your body, admiring your build and musculature while also taking note of any potential threats or signs of aggression. The feel of her hunting knife in her hand grows increasingly reassuring as she follows you deeper into the jungle surrounding the beachhead.

The sun beats down on her skin, causing sweat to trickle between her ample breasts and course down her spine. Despite this, a shiver runs through her when a cool breeze brushes past her exposed nipples, making them harden into tiny buds underneath their brown areolae. Deianira's heart races as images of what she could do with that revolver dance through her mind,

The thought crosses her mind that perhaps you may be right; you could be merely searching for someone else on this island. But something in your demeanor doesn't quite sit well with Deianira, and she finds herself unable to resist the urge to follow you further into the unknown territory of her homeland.

She closes the distance between you, careful not to startle or alarm you as she takes another step closer before speaking again. "Vojtěch," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she studies your features intently for any signs of hostility, "I am Deianira... princess of this island and its people." Her eyes move over your face once more before dropping down briefly to rest upon the revolver gripped firmly in your hand.