Shipwrecked

A girl crashes on an island. Her plane is a wreck. Her friends are distant. Her fears are growing. And the man is growing bolder. "He took another roiling step forwards. He stopped. His face was covered with a mask of dark obsidian and scraped ivory, tattooed with thin swirls of gold and slashes of mysterious silver. Feathers peeked out the sides to merge with slick black hair, elegantly styled backwards. A sharp jawline was left unhidden for my eyes to consume. And his pianist hands were extending... towards me. He was pointing at me. "Mon cherie. Your hair is a mess. Have you no comb to brush it?"