Day faded away into sunset and as the last of the emergency shelters were finally put into place, dusk turned to nightfall. The sky above you is a pure beautiful midnight blue with a scattering of white, puffy clouds. Millions of stars sparkle and twinkle above you, and the moon, bright white and nearly illuminates the beach. Light glimmers off the water, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore is rhythmic and soothing. You could almost imagine that you really were in a tropical paradise or on a beach vacation if not for the husk of the fuselage of one Oceanic Flight 815 resting across the beach, and the bodies littering the area near that piece of plane.
In the center, not far away from the shelters, a signal fire burns brightly. People have agreed to tend it in shifts throughout the night.
Food and water have been rationed, and it's enough to last you, all 48 of you, for a few days, provided that rescue comes quickly. If not, it will be foraging in the jungle and looking for water sources, but you're trying hard not to think about that now.
Right now, you're looking forward to some time to rest, perhaps sort through your belongings and talk to a few of the individuals you've bonded with - anything to feel just a little more normal.
[Tagging Everyone]
(OOC Note: ETA: Reply to this, just to set the mood with what the characters are doing. Don't worry the Snark Monster is coming . . .)