Lyds
She/Her
27
May 12
Goldenrod City
Heterosexual
Unemployed
Cadet
TAG WITH @lydiamagnusson
Lydia Magnusson
Gilligan's Island [M][O]
POSTED ON Dec 24, 2022 0:25:53 GMT
Day 7 of 7
After what came to be known as the postcard incident, Lydia’s mind took a turn towards skepticism. So, when a man approached her father with a potential job, the veteran had been wary. Only after she visited the conference room and received the job’s full details did she agree to it. She enjoyed camping—albeit with a shower within reach. She’d also endured some of the toughest training in military history to become an officer.
Staying on an island for a week—to help with tourism and views—seemed easy enough. The sponsor’s inclusion of a luxury tent and a dozen other branded goods, including a portable shower, further simplified the process. Aside from a curious Milotic on the first day, her time on the island had passed in relative peace. To pass the time, the blonde read through a few novels and watched saved shows on her phone. A few power bricks ensured the juice lasted.
Like a guard dog, her Horsea patrolled the island’s circumference, his little red eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. He’d even tried—and failed—to frighten off yesterday’s water serpent. “Horsea!” A call echoed off the beach as he shot a bubble of water at a Krabby. Lydia, normally reserved, could not suppress a chuckle.
This morning, she was laying under the tent, readying herself for the morning. First, she shook stray sand from her sleeping bag as she rose and stretched. “We have reached the final day. I am grateful.” The Lycanroc at her side opened a suspicious eye, staring down the tent flap like it was a predator in waiting. “Come on, Minnie.” The wolf rose with a huff and shake. “ We sould check on Triton.”
Before she’d made it to the Horsea’s hiding spot, a loud noise threw her world into a loop. It was from the other side of the island, near the rocky outcropping? Perhaps someone had crashed? Without a word, Lydia—usually so methodical—rushed across the island. Muscular legs allowed her to easily vault over fallen and rotten trees.
The hound followed, howling her arrival to the robin’s egg sky.
Then, she stood on the bank to survey the source of the noise.
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