Post by Vio on Sept 30, 2013 19:25:59 GMT -5
The air was warm, with a gentle ocean wind skating across the blue-green hues of the South Blue. The weather, cloudy and mild, no sign of rain, the sun shining brightly between the fluffy white cumulus clouds as they steadily cruised westwards through the azure sky. The waves were gentle, but were clearly following the winds as the slow current carried the waves to the west. All was quiet, save for the splashing of the tide against the edges of a wooden raft and the snoring of a penguin.
Zzz. Zzz. Zzz. Brandon lay, quite literally, flat against the raft, locked in a moderately deep sleep in the quiet of the open waters that surrounded him on every side. There was not an island to be seen, nor another vessel sailing the waters. After being carried away by a storm, Brandon had found himself on a piece of wooden boarding from the side of a ship. He had used it as a raft, his only sanctuary in the middle of the vastness that was the South Blue.
Zzz. Zzz. Zzz. Brandon's chest popped up, then flattened again with each breath. It was quite serene, really. Not a care in the world for the penguin as his little raft bobbed gracefully along the surface of the ocean. The wind speed was low and it was not raining, a perfect opportunity to nap.
Zzz. Zz-eyap! Something bashed against the side of the raft, jarring it slightly and awakening Brandon from his slumber. Brandon's body shrunk down and popped back into shape, the penguin scurrying to his webbed feet and pretending to be far more alert than he actually felt. Twisting his head about every which way, Brandon's beady eyes finally locked on to a barrel drifting a few feet to the starboard side of his rift. It was a plain, water-tight barrel, no visible markings or anything, though an faint yet appetising stench was emanating from it.
Oon? Brandon turned his head, eyeing the barrel. His stomach growled at him loudly. Fortunately, the barrel was floating upright; easy to grab a hold of. His flippers flattened, becoming paper-thin and elongated. Then, checking his balance in the centre of the raft, he cast them out. He strained, but couldn't reach, and the barrel was drifting farther out with each passing second.
Kuoh! Kuoh! Brandon withdrew his flippers, their forms fattening as they shortened. His abnormal reach was not enough, and swimming was out of the question - he needed to improvise. A risky idea sprang to mind. Brandon did the same as before, but this time he perched nearer the starboard edge of the raft, using one flipper to hold the portside while reaching for the barrel with the other. The raft tilted as his weight shifted. Brandon stretched and strained. Almost. There. Got it!
Kawa! The tip of Brandon's flipper was now securely holding the rim of the barrel, it's paper-like form stretched frailly between raft and barrel. Cautious of tipping the raft, Brandon slowly pulled on the barrel, easing himself back to the middle of the raft as he did so. Steadily the barrel made its way towards the raft, the promise of fish enticing Brandon with every second.
Ko! Finally the barrel was beside the raft. Brandon, using his thin flippers, prised the lid from the top of the barrel and peeked inside. Empty. Save for a single sardine which lay at the bottom. Brandon reached inside for the fish, pulling out the less-than-filling specimen and, in one gulp, swallowed it whole. Certainly disappointing for all the effort he had put into retrieving it.
Kuoh. There was nothing left to do now but continue drifting along on the waves. Worryingly, the wind was starting to pick up. This was either a blessing a curse for Brandon, though currently he was totally unsure of which it was.
Zzz. Zzz. Zzz. Brandon lay, quite literally, flat against the raft, locked in a moderately deep sleep in the quiet of the open waters that surrounded him on every side. There was not an island to be seen, nor another vessel sailing the waters. After being carried away by a storm, Brandon had found himself on a piece of wooden boarding from the side of a ship. He had used it as a raft, his only sanctuary in the middle of the vastness that was the South Blue.
Zzz. Zzz. Zzz. Brandon's chest popped up, then flattened again with each breath. It was quite serene, really. Not a care in the world for the penguin as his little raft bobbed gracefully along the surface of the ocean. The wind speed was low and it was not raining, a perfect opportunity to nap.
Zzz. Zz-eyap! Something bashed against the side of the raft, jarring it slightly and awakening Brandon from his slumber. Brandon's body shrunk down and popped back into shape, the penguin scurrying to his webbed feet and pretending to be far more alert than he actually felt. Twisting his head about every which way, Brandon's beady eyes finally locked on to a barrel drifting a few feet to the starboard side of his rift. It was a plain, water-tight barrel, no visible markings or anything, though an faint yet appetising stench was emanating from it.
Oon? Brandon turned his head, eyeing the barrel. His stomach growled at him loudly. Fortunately, the barrel was floating upright; easy to grab a hold of. His flippers flattened, becoming paper-thin and elongated. Then, checking his balance in the centre of the raft, he cast them out. He strained, but couldn't reach, and the barrel was drifting farther out with each passing second.
Kuoh! Kuoh! Brandon withdrew his flippers, their forms fattening as they shortened. His abnormal reach was not enough, and swimming was out of the question - he needed to improvise. A risky idea sprang to mind. Brandon did the same as before, but this time he perched nearer the starboard edge of the raft, using one flipper to hold the portside while reaching for the barrel with the other. The raft tilted as his weight shifted. Brandon stretched and strained. Almost. There. Got it!
Kawa! The tip of Brandon's flipper was now securely holding the rim of the barrel, it's paper-like form stretched frailly between raft and barrel. Cautious of tipping the raft, Brandon slowly pulled on the barrel, easing himself back to the middle of the raft as he did so. Steadily the barrel made its way towards the raft, the promise of fish enticing Brandon with every second.
Ko! Finally the barrel was beside the raft. Brandon, using his thin flippers, prised the lid from the top of the barrel and peeked inside. Empty. Save for a single sardine which lay at the bottom. Brandon reached inside for the fish, pulling out the less-than-filling specimen and, in one gulp, swallowed it whole. Certainly disappointing for all the effort he had put into retrieving it.
Kuoh. There was nothing left to do now but continue drifting along on the waves. Worryingly, the wind was starting to pick up. This was either a blessing a curse for Brandon, though currently he was totally unsure of which it was.