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Coconuts - the large, hard-shelled seed of the coconut palm, lined with a white edible meat, and containing a milky liquid. Yes, Coconuts. As you probably know these brown hairy pieces of food are found on many local beach areas. They are also found in many secluded islands. They are found in the unknown. Many islands have not been found. They are a mystery. They may never be found. On a nice sunny morning, you and a few other people are boarding a plane in San Diego, California and you are exiting a plane in Paris, France. You all had won a contest. The prize was a tour around France. But during your flight something terrible happens. No one realizes until the plane starts to swivel and then fall. You see the pilot had a heart attack. All you do is panic. You crash. You find yourself on an island. You all look around. You see nothing around the island. You see no one else. Your stranded. Now you and the few other people have to survive the elements. You must survive thirst and hunger. You must survive from the creatures of this island. It is full of the unknown creatures. These creatures are dangerous. But your group is strong you all stick in groups. You make sure to. You have your leader and everyone has there jobs. Now the true journey begins. The journey of survival. Will you make it? Or will you crack under the pressure of survival? It's all up to you.

- Literate!

- This is a fun rp, not a serious one.

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Birthplace:

Personality:

Appearance:

Skills:

Other:

( I will post mine later! start just waking up after the crash )

Name: Airi Yayomurtu

Age: 18

Gender: F

Birthplace: Paris, France

Personality: Very energetic and friendly, enjoys to be around some people and loves to eat sweets. Very girly, often calling everything cute.

Appearance: Airi

Skills: She is good with her hands, she can create things very well

Other: none

Name: James Kitagozen

Age: 15

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Wiltshire, England

Personality: To really get to grips with his mentality, you have to consider him against what he looks like; a bit of a clown. He is pessimistic, but cheerful. Enjoys laughing, which is quite obvious when you look at him. He retains a loud, playful and mad manner in comparison to the majority of the people in his position, but tends to shy away from other males unless he is familiar with them, due to childhood without any influential males. Or you could catch him in a more sober mood, at which he is considerably more calm and mature, maybe even cold. But with both sides to his personality, you'll find a courtjesterly manner and innocent/childish mentality paired with an odd cynicism of someone possibly twice his age.

Appearance: Standing roughly 5'6, he considers himself rather short for his age by comparison to the poeple he grew up with. He has smooth oak eyes that flair between innocence and mocking cynicism, and thick brown hair cut short with a slightly longer fringe. He has a rounded face, with a pair of rectangular glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose, enhancing his cynical appearance, and his slim physique lacks muscle, but he is, however, not to be considered scrawny. Small. But not scrawny. His strength is in his lower body and legs, not his upper. He is also very agile and flexible, something he looks very suited to. His typical clothing relates to his clownish mannerisms; he commonly garbs himself in bright clothing consisting mostly of yellows to reds, whites and blacks, and his collar is large, thick and striped red and pale orange.

Skills: He is incredibly adaptable, and creative.

Other: ...

Name: Zephryx Haitomaru ( Zeph )

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Munich, Germany

Personality: Zeph is quiet, and very laid-back. At the same time, he is very flirty, and loves to embarrass people, a lot. Deep down inside, he has a huge heart and hates to see the people he loves, hurt. If you hurt anyone he does care for, you better watch out because tend of one, you won't be alive any longer.

Appearance: Zeph ( Ignore the ears )

Skills: He is pretty nature smart, knows what to eat and not to eat.

Other: None

Wheezing while laughing, James jumped up out of the sand. "Great!-" He coughed, sand in his mouth. "Hysterical!" His wild smile faded into a grim stare out into the mainland. "This is gonna be one hell of a sitcom." He grumbled, brushing the sand out of his thick hair.

Name: Gilbert Diederich

Age: Twenty

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Berlin, Germany

Personality: Gilbert is a snooty, strong-willed man who will use any means to become strong and believes that he is the best and still "awesome", although has not really succeeded at his goal. Even so he proclaims to enjoy being alone, he is seen crying sometimes due to his lack of friends or company in general. He takes pleasure in annoying or humiliating people in a way that is indescribable, but has deep admiration for cute things or people. Gilbert loathes many, as for those thinking just the same from his large amount of bragging and simply being too blunt. But he is very loyal to his older peers, and has special attachments to certain beings. All the man does is pick fights and irritate, but deep within there is a side that is very caring and loving. Pretty much is a hooligan.

Appearance: Gilbert is about average height, shorter than most males but taller than most females because of his poor nutrition. He sports semi-short platinum blond hair and red-violet eyes, his skin taking a warm ivory color that could be seen as slightly pale. The male has an odd wardrobe that is usually filled with the color blue, red or fancy clothing, but is usually found wearing pretty much anything he finds attractive or makes himself look more "awesome", which sometimes is not all that what he believes. Some consider him as an albino due to his light hair and piercing red-violet eyes, but really is not. Gilbert is left handed, has an bizarre obsession with chicks, the color blue and too, being awesome.

Skills: You could say he brings humor when there is lack of it, but other than that he is primarily useless.

Other: --

Zeph sat up coughing, rubbing the sand off his face. What the... hell? "Agh." he groaned and held his head, the crash, he must of hit his head because the pain said otherwise. "Where are we? I don't..." he began to say, looking at the island.

Name: Elaina Heartwood

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Birthplace: Atlanta, Georgia

Personality: She's overall a very fun-loving, caring person. Though, at times, when insulted or hurt, she results to mean sarcasim and a very closed-off personality. She dislikes people who judge her right off the bat; whether it had to do with her looks or really anything else. She is immensely protective over her friends and family, though, if one turns on the other she has the abbility to emotionally detach herself for the sake of the others. Elaina doesn't open up very well and it takes someone a while to gain her trust. Though, once one has her trust, Elaina will do about anything for that person.

Appearance: Elaina has golden hair that flows down to middle of her ribcage, slight waves causing a shimmer to brighten the locks, with side-bangs parted to the right. She has hazel eyes, which really could never decide whether or not they wanted to be a gorgeous emerald green or subtle dark brown. And rosy lips, the bottom noticeably plumper than the top, which gave a peak at the perfectly straightened, pearly teeth inside. She has a long, athletic, lean figure and stands at 5'5.

Skills: Elaina is particularly good with noting small details and remembering them. Whether about people, a place, or topic, she will note almost everything possible. It's just in her nature. This helps her make good, educated plans and decisions. Also, she has a way with people. All her detail-noting has made her extremely aware of how people think. It makes some people think they've known her for a long time based off of the amount of information she already knows.

Other: Noopee!

A loud cough shook his frame as the male shockingly drew to a standing position. Sand caked his face and his hair stood in a odd disarray, clothes though in perfect condition. "I'm alive, I am officially awesome!" Gilbert bellowed at the top of his lungs, snickering. Brushing off the sand, he stumbled to the side, grinning wolfishly that simply disappeared when viewing the island before him. "What the hell?"

A coconut fell off of a nearby tree and rolled its way over to James, coming to a halt by his feet. Staring down upon it with a bitter expression, James eventually burst out laughing. "A coconut!" Another roaring wave of laughter washed pver him. "I'm gonna die~!"

Elaina watched blankly as a strange amount of crimson liquid surrounded her wrist as it lay limp on the ground. No, sitting there mindlessly, silenced by shock probably wasn't the greatest. nor most helpful idea but what was she to do? Confused and in intense pain, all she could manage was to remain immobile, hoping someone would notice her among the commotion.

A terrible form. I'm editing later, because I have to go. Please excuse me. ):

Name: Christien Thierry Marimière

Age: Nineteen

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Paris, France

Personality: Christien. He's very much the stereotypical romantic French 'homme' that you see in movies, if you get what I mean. He loves his music-- playing guitar and singing is what he does best and loves most. He also loves to read-- his romantic side enjoys settling down with some Shakespeare when it's not nice enough to go out with friends, if nothing's good at the theatre, or if he doesn't feel like kicking the soccer ball around. The most memorable thing about his personality is possibly the fact that he's not one to get angry, which he can do quite easily, and show it-- negative emotions should be kept to one's self, is perhaps the best way to describe his state of mind. With his interests and looks, you'd expect him to be a little bit of a ladies' man, but he's actually pretty reserved, shy, even on that front-- or in general, actually. Around friends, he'll talk.. But people he doesn't know.. Well, he takes a little time to get used to the new country.

Appearance: Christien stands at about six foot two inches, and has a muscular build, though he's not overly bulky. His hair usually tousled, perhaps dishevelled would be a good word to use, is a dark chocolate brown colour, though it lightens up a bit in the summer. A light stippling stubble surrounds his chin and jawline, though it's barely noticeable from a distance. His eyes are chocolate brown, too, and his skin has a healthy brown tint to it. Apparently, he has the look of the average French person.. But just because everything about his physical appearance is brown (except for clothes, of course-- that would be boring. On that front he prefers jeans, khakis, button down shirts and/ or pullover v-neck jumpers), not every Frenchman looks quite this good..

Skills: A great cook, and a provider of entertainment, perhaps, what with him being a musician and all.

Other: nope

Christien groaned, having been lying unconcious for a good few minutes as a result of the shock of having been involved in what could only be described as a terrifying ordeal. He sat up, slowly and stiffly. Due to his height and lack of spacial awareness, he didn't see the rubble in front of him-- only the sandy beach and clear blue sea was visible, and for a while he was convinced that, though he'd never visualised heaven to be this way at all, that that's exactly where he was-- I mean, what were the odds of surviving an accident like that? Once his head stopped spinning, he turned his head and noticed the wreckage, then the blood that seemed to be oozing from every part of his body, its metallic taste filling his mouth as he came to his senses. He coughed and got up, finally noticing that he had company, which was one positive thing anyway.

Elaina somehow managed to see through the mask of crimson covering her vision to catch a glance at Christien. "Can you help me?" Her voice was feeble and weak, so abnormal for her. She was completely used to being independent, wary of others, but now, stuck under the intense weight of a fallen airplane part, she needed help.

It took a couple of moments for Christien to comprehend what Elaina had asked him, though he started to jog over to her anyway; barely to even think straight in French. Obviously, though, she was in need of some help, despite still trying to understand what she'd asked him. By the time he got there, and had a hold on the piece of plane that she, he'd worked it out. He lifted it off, and it landed with a thud on the sand on the other side of the girl, smashing where it had weakened from being burned. He helped her to sit up, too, and then asked her, "Are you okay?" his accent weighing more heavily on his words than they usually would, while he still tried to get himself to think in English mode, as it were.

Elaina almost giggled at his heavy accent; blood-loss had took an immense toll on her thoughts. "I think so." Her hazel eyes flicked over to where her wrist hung crooked and limp at her side. "Are wrists supposed to be turned like that?"

Christien looked down at her wrist, turning in gently in his hands so as not to hurt her, and said, "No, I think it's.. Broken." His accent now was much less prominent. You could tell he wasn't a native English speaker, but at least a very good foreign English speaker. Her wrist needed to be bandaged up because of the blood, and then slung up to help it heal, he figured. But where to find something to do that with would be difficult.. He looked down at himself. His shirt, already torn from the burning and the impact, was the answer, until he could find something better suited. He tore a wide strip from the bottom first, wrapping it around the large cut. He hesitated then, because he had to check with her; some girls were just funny about these things. "I'm going to have to take my shirt off to help you. Do you have a problem with that?"

Elaina shook her head numbly, slightly confused as to why he was asking that; the importancy of her broken wrist seemed to top whatever physical attraction, or whatever he was worried about, there would be. "Thank you for this." She said, managing to crack a smile through the extreme waves of pain cascading up and down her arm. "I'm Elaina Heartwood, by the way."

Christein smiled slightly to himself. He could tell she was confused, and he understood that, but he also just knew that some girls just had a problem with guys taking their shirts off, it was a funny thing, he would agree with Elaina, that girls would go through pain just because they felt slightly uncomfortable with it. He removed his shirt and tore off most of the back, minus the sleeves, which turned out to be an appropriate sized square of fabric, which he put her forearm in, and then tied the ends around her neck. "No problem," he said, "Does it hurt less now?" Pause. "And I'm Christien Marimière."

Elaina studied the make-shift sling, her rosy lips pressed into a fine line as she stared at it, impressed at how easily he'd made it. "Yes, thank you, again. It's more numb now." Her voice was louder this time, not miniscule as it had been earlier; much more like herself. She reached out her good hand, not letting pain get in the way of her manners. "Nice to meet you."