A Disaster has Struck in the Kea Channel

Outside, water droplets covered the foggy window, the wind blew onto the tongues of those who were onboard manning the deck, the familiar bitterness of the sea stinging their taste buds. The pretty blue of the sky reflected off the deep waters that kept the HMHS Britannic afloat, which was possibly bigger than the coral reefs lurking below, and was as white as the cotton clouds that flew above it. Waves crashed up against it with a great powerful force, as if a giant were to be playing and splashing in a pond. The crystal sea were like that of champagne: once it crashed back onto itself, it sizzled soothingly. The great blue shone against the radiate rays of the sun like the surface of a dazzling diamond under a jeweler's loupe. A colony of Mediterranean gulls flew above the long vessel, their heads painted black, their bodies white.

Her blue, tired eyes shown in the light that reflected the white brilliance pouring in from a window. Charlotte Bellarose began to brush her hair back, switching from one side to the next, leaving a part down the middle. The neater her hair was pinned back, the cleaner the presentation. The dark pattern of her dress resulted in her appearance to be one of a ghost, her skin as white as the sizzling sea foam sizzling below her. However, she thought of the dress as rather unattractive: swirling floral patterns, faded roses, dull, sap green stems and leaves. A style Charlotte was never particularly fond of, she felt as if it wasn't complimentary to her long, young, and slim face, her thin lips, her sharp nose, her almond-shaped eyes. Thankfully, the apron she wore to keep herself sanitary covered most of the floral mess.

She reached for a fragile empire comb resting on the counter in front of her, one her mother had given her before embarking the hospital ship, to keep her hair back. It seemed to have been dipped in gold, and was decorated with small emerald beads, which would dazzle in the morning light pouring in from the window if only it's shine had not diminished over the years, or in their settings loose. Despite the wear, she still admired the accessory, and pinned it in her hair every morning, much like this day.

Charlotte gazed at herself into the mirror and frowned, tugging away at the white collar of her dress that covered most of her neck, before realizing the pinned red cross that adorned her apron needed to be fixed, in which she proceeded to do so. She then began to dust off the skirt of her long pinafore, her black boots matte with dirt, the black laces tangled. No matter how many times she had tried to polish them, they always appeared cloudy. Unlike the sky today, fortunately.

Once finished, Charlotte straightened her back, and smiled at her reflection sweetly. Her eyes sparkled with optimism, a new, wonderful day of caring for the injured war victims only beginning.

"Miss Charlotte!" A voice called, "Miss Charlotte!"

A series of small, quick thumps echoed through the corridors, as if someone was racing against the blue-green currents below them. A small knock, and the woman standing in front of the mirror opened the door. There stood Charlotte's sister, Angeline.

"Thank goodness," Angeline sighed in relief, though a bit out of breath, "I thought you had overslept."

"It's still quite early," Charlotte spoke, glancing across the room, where a clock ticked, "It's only 6:05."

"Indeed, it is," Angeline said, following Charlotte's gaze up at the ticking clock on the wall, "25 minutes to spare until breakfast," She smiled sweetly, taking a step back.

She watched Charlotte swiftly switch the light in the small private room off, and close the door behind her. Both strolled out of Charlotte's chamber and out into the long hall, their heels clicking against the wooden floor.

"Remind me the day?" asked Charlotte, following her sister.

"It is the twenty-first day of November. It's such a nice day."