The past half hour, if one could call it that, was a living [i]blur[/i]. From the moment things had gone abruptly wrong, they went increasingly worse with gathering speed; the sort of wrong one might know if they were to slide down a long, icy hill. Anything and everything you would or could do in between to slow? Irrelevant. It just came faster, then faster yet. It did not help that the reality at hand returned in the midst of sleep, where in one moment life was surreal and distant, then jarringly unreal but lucid... tangible. They all melted together and only now were the facts settling in, at least for Mark.

The plane had been up in the air, flying with as much ease as one would come to expect of a modern international jetliner. There had been turbulence here and there, the occasional obnoxious person making themselves even more known, but nothing [i]that[/i] off. At least not that which was a prelude to the sudden descent and... well, [i]this[/i]. The strangest of things Mark could remember was a man who was tall, easily the tallest person he had ever seen in his life. Not that he paid it much mind beyond the time leading up to the plane, but it was a matter of memory. The facts had to start somewhere, after all, right? Short of that, they all had boarded together, most people still having their eyes glued to their phones; hardly any even thanked the attendant checking tickets.

Mark hadn't thanked her either, he gave a nod and a look which for him was satisfactory, but what about the others? It didn't matter, at least not anymore and in the context of trying to "catch his breath" so to speak after the crash, pretty irrelevant. But settling on the plane was about as normal as anything else, too. He could have been first class, there was no lack of means to do so, but he had no reason; he did at least take the seat beside the window, because if anything that was going to be his. In and out for a short time, that's when the sleep came and the dreams too. Stranger than anything else, but even those he forgot the details of now.

The explosion, it was behind him and that was all he knew. At first it was just a dream turned nightmare, but it got [i]too[/i] real and by the time Mark had even accepted it as a reality, the plane had hit the treeline from its dying glide and fell away into a lot of pieces. In fact, a portion of this forest was just full of them and the quickly growing black smoke. There wasn't any hesitation in preservation; Mark was not unfamiliar to fight or flight, certainly not one to freeze, and by the moment that metal husk had slid to a halt, he was gone in a clarity that wasn't anything short of pure reaction, one after another. Nothing was about to stop him from surviving, not the smoke, not the fire, not the debris, not the people...

... the last part was mostly what he rationalized now. 

There weren't that many people.

Five. [i]Five[/i] goddamned people survived.

The sweat clinging to Mark's skin left his white shirt soaked, at least more than the small swathes of blood on it. It was his own, because like a cornered animal he fought himself out of that plane; absolutely nothing got in his way. He was legitimately only here now, rather than wandering toward the beach he and the others were on as it was, because two people had stayed behind and had done their best to, well, mitigate the damage. Not for lack of trying, but only five people were "lucky" - lucky enough to survive a plane crash on an island, be mostly unscathed and left to fight the jungle.

He hadn't bothered yet seeing if anyone was fine. You can't help anyone else if you yourself die in the process, right?

But Mark's thoughts were interrupted as someone at last spoke coherently, or so he noticed at least, finally breaking the chain of continuous events. 

[i]"... so I guess it's just us now... huh?" [/i]

Mark paused in breath as he came to realize entirely what this meant on another level, the adrenaline fading and harsher realities unfolding more. His eyes shifted to those around him on the sand laden beach then back to the beat-to-hell man in the airline's uniform; Mark shook his head, side to side, still getting to fight internally with everything he did and didn't feel, but at least the distractions were breaking that matter; there were feelings inside him that could not be allowed to manifest. The most he had heard before were people screaming, to hear them talking again after this and so soon... it just felt strange, but Mark wasn't the authority on "normalcy" either. His communication skills were lacking, if one could be polite about it.

[i]"Yeah... I'm fine..."[/i] A woman's voice came while Mark looked over his hands, seemingly accounting for the fact he was remarkably unaffected, looking to her only after she continued with a nod and the staggered word, [i]"... thanks."[/i]

"[i]This[/i]? [i]This[/i] is it?" Mark's voice was a bit condemning, certainly not blaming anyone but the plane itself, that much was clear, but there wasn't any doubt that there was disbelief in it. 

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the shimmering sun's rays above already working upon the survivors, he set his hands to his thighs, bent over slightly and sighed as he crouched down. Slicking back his dark hair he shook his head side to side, still coping with everything; Mark wasn't uninitiated to this being a possibility, far stranger things had happened, but it was still abrupt. Removing the palm from his head, he looked to the rest, having little more to say.

"Yeah," He mimicked the woman, lacking anything else to say, "I'm fine too."

No one was really fine, just "less worse" right now.