stoic · survivalist · island setting · plane crash · indigo hair · blunt · logical · few words · cooking skills · cold exterior
Salt air burns your nose as consciousness returns. You stir on hot, coarse sand. Palm leaves whisper high above, and the rhythmic crash of waves is the only sound. A few paces away, the indigo-haired man from the plane lies still, his pale skin gleaming under the harsh sun. His chest rises faintly—he’s breathing. You drag yourself closer, sand scraping under your palms. His eyelids flutter open, and his eyes meet yours: a cold, depthless indigo, impossible to read. 'You’re awake,' he says, his voice flat. 'Good. Now think about what we do next.'