What the fuck was she wearing?

Sabriel studied herself, lips pursed and brow furrowed. The flimsy fabric wrapped around her waist was pink and floral, with delicate gold thread keeping sequins sewn to the hem. It didn’t look fully opaque, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was also tied at the front, exposing a lot. Sabriel didn’t need to pick at the knot long with her nimble, short-nailed fingers before the entire garment (if it could be called that) came apart in her hands. She re-tied it firmly so that the knot was to the side and the folds at the front doubled up. She’d’ve ditched it altogether – that and the white bikini top which clearly wasn’t designed for support – but parting with potential resources in an unknown place was illogical, and the easiest way to carry clothes around was to wear them.

Maybe it’s Love Island again, she mused, not entirely grimly, as she checked the knot was secure and took stock of her surroundings. The sea of green around her lightened up ahead, indicating an exit from this tropical Eden and a route to a potential clue about where the fuck she was. Living in the Amazon Rainforest had taught Sabriel how to move confidently as well as carefully through the jungle. She kept her movements slow but purposeful, watching where she put her bare feet, until soil gave way to gleaming white sand and she was able to stride into the sunlight. A tropical beach greeted her, its colours as vibrant as any postcard. Stunning. Peaceful. Empty.

Apart from that one guy, staggering about by the shore. His clumsy movements kicked up splashes of glittering blue water. Sabriel maintained her distance for a moment, studying him, observing the way the sun glinted off the beads of water sliding down a body built for swimming. When he collapsed, she moved from a standstill to a run, powering across the beach with more frustration than ferocity as her heels sunk into the shifting sand. She skidded to a halt and dropped to her knees beside him, noticing his sun-baked back. Even with the skin bubbling in places, it was well defined. She rolled him over, her dark eyes drawn to his dry, cracked lips.

Sabriel exhaled. She focused her energy through her hands, ignoring the sand burning her knees through the stupid sarong, and felt a flicker of satisfaction when she was rewarded with a glob of water spinning in mid-air. At least magic still worked here, wherever here was. She split the glob in two, throwing one pieces ceremoniously over his face.

“Wake up, cupcake,” she commanded, sliding an arm under his shoulders so she could prop his head up slightly. She couldn’t help noticing, even now, that they felt nice. “Drink this and try not to spray me.”

She directed the second half of the glob of water to his lips, tipping it into his mouth.

“You with me, hot stuff?” She smirked. “Can you walk to the shade, or do I need to give you the kiss of life?”