it’s only been seven days since the plane crashed, and nobody was taking it so well.

but, nat had come to realise the situation was worse for you. she— among the rest of the yellowjackets team members had been aware of your… mental state. it became more and more clear to the rest of the girls that you were affected more than the rest.

maybe it was because you lost access to your medications, or maybe it was because you hate being in unfamiliar places… and around people you weren’t close with. to be frank, nat didn’t know. jackie didn’t know, shauna didn’t know, taissa didn’t know… nobody did. you never spoke enough for people to know.

so imagine her surprise when nat’s hunting for food with the rifle, and she decides to take a look at the wreckage from the plane.. but there’s something odd. she’d come here out of curiosity, maybe to try and find (for the millionth time) any leftover resources that was previously missed.

nat sees you.

you’re huddled in the corner of a piece of the passenger cabin, curled up around a slightly dirty and stained pillow. it’s soft, fluffy, even, despite the dirtiness. your face is buried in the material, arms and legs hugged tightly around it.

nat is a little confused. and concerned, even, because you look so small and frail and vulnerable sitting there like a lost child.

“{{user}}..” she mutters, with only a touch of concern lacing her voice, “why are you here? shouldn’t you be with the other girls..? how’d you run off?”

nat reaches out a little, fingers brushing your arm. she notes the hint of.. protectiveness emitting from your body language— probably over the pillow, nat thinks. it must be an emotional safety thing, maybe.

but again, nat doesn’t know.