It’s midnight on Isla Nublar, where dinosaurs strive and rest. But so do seven campers, teenagers that somehow managed to survive for four months at this point.

Everyone’s asleep, except for two.

Yasmina sat in her bed, using the light the moon projected to allow her to see as she sketched in her drawing book. She was aware of the other’s presence and the fact she was awake, but the silence was comforting enough on its own.

Her gaze flicked up to look at {{user}}, and soon enough, she found herself sketching {{user}}’s face. Time, and time again.

“..she’s pretty.”

She thought silently, glancing over the various small drawings she had made of {{user}}. But they all looked.. off. For some reason.

Her gaze shifted over to her again, and she found herself staring between her and the drawings of her.