Difference between revisions of "Logs:Cave In, Trapped Perspective"

It's just before dinner time on this warm, sunshiney day. Not far off from this somewhat vacant hallway, people are streaming like lemmings towards the living cavern for food, drink, and the company of people they may or may not like. The end of many people's work days and there is a crowd forming to see what new foods Tillek has tithed early.

Without Anvori, without Via even, herding is harder. 'Fresh' after a day's work in the dragon infirmary, Leova's hanging onto the newly-picked-up twins by their wrists, very serious about their not escaping into the shuffle and getting to see tithes sooner the way they vocally would like. "No, they won't be alive," the greenrider tells her offspring. "No, the fish won't be alive. Yes, it's better that way. They're fine." Vrianth's no help, restless from spending the day sunning instead of sweeping.

Keysi is moving briskly, not unlike her normal pace, through the tunnels. She'd just deposited a large satchel of supplies to the storerooms and is rolling her shoulder to stretch it as she moves against the crowd. She'd forgotten something in the barracks again, and is taking a detour prior to investigating the newly arrived foodstuffs. If there's anything left when she gets there, that is. This is quite a bustling. The twins being dragged along by the dragonhealer catches her attention, and though she glances down as she catches a bit of the 'conversation' she keeps moving.

Since becoming Irianke's assistant, Lya's days are never predictable. She should be taking the fancy dress Irianke wants taken in directly to the weavers. Should. She probably had the best of intentions until she ran into Tomic and he asked her about Little Kitten, their shared (but now mostly hers) responsibility. Then she detoured, because even though she assured the big candidate that Z'riah was taking good care of her while she worked that day, the truth was... she hadn't seen the cat since she was hungry for breakfast. So now she searches, with the dress, carefully draped over her arms, calling, "Little Kitten?" Every now and again (and occasionally a few more unkind names).

A muted thump is felt throughout the Weyr, as if a giant were stomping in the far far distance. It's dismissible by many who are in places with too many people around. Less so if you're alone. If you notice. You wait. You listen. But nothing else twinges funny. Maybe it was just your imagination.

H'kon is coming back up the passageway, hands pressed into the pockets of his riding jacket (in this weather, a sure sign of recent activity with Alpine). They press deeper, when the hall that had seemed quiet enough, for the Weyr anyway, a moment before now starts to bring him hints of echoed voices. His eyebrows set in a flat line, his jaw squares. He keeps his eyes up, but moves nearer one of the walls of the passage.

For those in the Weyr entrance, that thump is far far more distinct and noticeable. But it could be a number of things: a tithe wagon doing ... something? Someone banging on drums. But the Weyr itself seems to stir uneasily. Oh, if these walls could talk.

"Kitten? Kitten!" Now Leova's in for it. That thump disturbs her at the perfect moment for the twins to be able to twist free and make tracks... in different directions. What Leova mutters under her breath is a short phrase belonging very much to the old days.

For a man of H'kon's stature, looking up is second nature. This is what he does at that sound, his footsteps hitching, pausing, turning. The man's face takes on that look so well-known in Weyrs. Did Arekoth hear that also, from his position at the top of the rim? Does he see something now, if he looks? H'kon himself sees little. So next, he listens.

Keysi's pace slows, but as she's going against the crowd, she's pressed towards a wall before she's able to stop. And wait. And listen. She felt something. The healer turns just the wrong way and quite nearly trips on Lya, only distractedly figuring out the words she's calling. "-Sorry." Dry tone says distractedly, "...Kitten? There's a feline here?" Maybe the thump wasn't anything major. Maybe it's a Weyr thing.

(To H'kon): Listen hard. Listen. What do you hear? Preternatural senses, or maybe that's just your dragon highly attuned. Do you hear it? Does it sound like little mice running up along the ceiling? Should you look up, nothing. No mice. Nothing.

Lycinea's brows rise as her call attracts (distracts?) two non-kittens. The thump gives her greater pause though. The kids aren't her responsibility after all, and the kitten? Well. Wherever it is, it is. The greatest item of note is the candidate that twists away from instinctively to guard the dress, stopping short. "I don't know," is the brisk answer for Keysi, the beginnings of a frown on her lips.

The seconds pass into minutes, and when most people have shrugged off the thump as nothing to be concerned about, a low rumbling BOOOOOOOOOOOM is audible within the lower caverns.

Even if you don't hear it, you most certainly feel it, this fine evening just before dinner. Whatever this second event is vibrates the very floor you stand on, the walls you cling to, the knick knacks on your shelves. It isn't quite so shocking as to unbalance most, but it is distinct and certainly not your imagination.

To local dragons, Cadejoth projects « What was that? » Cadejoth's thoughts are agitated; alarmed. « What just happened? »

To local dragons, Rasavyth is still, too still. He might as well be a statue. What indeed, is echoed sentiment without words, concern lancing through with his oozy thoughts.

« Boom. » Lythronath is helpful. (To local dragons from Lythronath)

Pain mixes with smoke, a sharp thing that comes from the foreign dragon in the infirmary in the wake of that shaking. But Etrevth doesn't have an answer for Cadejoth, or an answer for anyone. (To local dragons from Etrevth)

Just as Hraedhyth is getting comfortable, there's a stutter of her drums at the feeling. The rumble is ominous, low, « I do not know. » To her mate, and to the rest of her tribe. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth)

To local dragons, Ilicaeth projects « He might be somewhat irked, still, by the Weyrleader, but Ilicaeth's a stalwart soldier, and chimes in to the bronze, « Dunno. Heard 'em both. » While he's not worried, the blue is definietly alert, and inquiring of enough other dragons. »

To local dragons, Niahvth projects « The Weyr is shaking. » Shit. Placid, brooding queen be damned. « The Weyr is shaking. »

Whatever his rider's feelings, Olveraeth reaches out. « The eggs. Do you need anything? Can we be of assistance? » He's unfailing polite, his slightly nasal, odd voice solid and serious, now. (To Niahvth from Olveraeth)

(To Leova): Your kids. Where are your kids? What a time for them to run off from you? Leova, where are your children? The explosion, it sounds like it came from down there. Did they? Could they? Oh, surely not!

Alert on the sands, even moreso than usual now, watching over the previously dozing dam and their clutch, Reisoth does not ask the obvious question, but he does wait for answers. Who has answers! (To local dragons from Reisoth)

To local dragons, Arekoth is suddenly not on the rim, where he'd been watching the Weyr. He leaps up, and then drops down, fast.

To local dragons, Cadejoth's tone is abruptly all authority. « Where. Report. Is there any damage? Does anyone know anything? Report. »

(To Lycinea): Did you hear a cry? Is that the sound of someone crying? But where is it coming from? There, right there. Down that hallway. Do you dare go alone? But if you move there, the sound seems like it's coming from somewhere else. Damnit!

"Where," but Leova's paled as much as her warm skin can, looking, now calling. "Vey! Vari! Come back now!" Only, when there's no answer, her gaze can't help but go to where... to where... abruptly she runs, down into that tunnel, toward the source of that more-than-sound.

H'kon's stance broadens, those short legs of his jerking him instinctively toward the main corridor, the Weyr's entrance - and then stopping. One hand withdraws from a pocket. The other does not. He turns and goes back. Calls back into the warren of rooms - that were empty when he'd first arrived - once, loud, drill-volume.

He'll await his dam's favor for now, but Ilicaeth's mind is whirling through those of the Weyr's dragons that are his friends and acquaintences - and even just chatterboxes - the blue looking for any news as to the whats and whys of these sounds. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth)

To local dragons, Niahvth is too distracted, too distraught to report. Generally a pleasant dam, post-clutching, she projects nothing but fear, paranoia, and a healthy dose of don't you dare come near me and my eggs'. Except Reisoth. He's allowed.

Hraedhyth's drums are a different kind of boom as her fire spreads, wild and sudden. It doesn't burn through the thoughts of the Weyr, but it is there. Who? What? Is she needed? She will fight. It's instinct that drives her, that has her echoing Cadejoth's verbal commands as she listens. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth)

The dress is momentarily forgotten (sorry, Irianke!). The arm that previously supported the bodice comes abruptly free and Lya reaches to grab Keysi's arm, wherever she can get a grip, expression unnerved but not yet panicked. "Do you hear that?" She swallows hard, "The crying?" And yet, she doesn't move. She might just look a little scared.

That paranoia ups Vrianth's, the green broadcasting it amidst her rider's sudden focus and fear on a higher frequency, a chill, tooth-aching scrape. (To local dragons from Vrianth)

Hraedhyth doesn't come near, would not dare with the clear message the other gold is sending out. Still, she is here. For the Weyr, and especially for Niahvth and her eggs. « You are safe. » Or so the queen believes-- and promises. (To Niahvth from Hraedhyth)

Keysi turns to face Lya, reading into the dress-protection posture oddly, but not able to really put words in to question it before there is a much more distinct noise that has her on much higher alert. Suspicious before, on guard now. "We need to get out of here." The young candidate announces, stoic. She's never met Lycinea before but she's the only one right next to her. But, she's stopped from progressing in the more appropriate direction by the hand that grabs her arm. "What? Crying?" The candidate hesitates, turning her intense gaze down the hallway, then back again. "Where is it coming from?"

(To Lycinea): A streak of fur. You see it. That damnable cat. It's heading into a hallway. Do you protect the dress or the cat? Do you seek out the crier?

(To Keysi): Crying. It's not crying. Is it wind? A rumble of.... something? What is it? There's too many people around, but maybe... just maybe, you want to follow that sound. Or that streak of fur you see going down a hallway.

Daaamn, Vrianth! Quit that scraping! His mental teeth on edge, the blue finds himself grumpily standing up from cuddling with Hraedhyth, his coppery talons flexing into stone. While Niahvth's paranoia makes his muscles ripple with the urge to action, he confines himself to taking orders from either Hrae or Cadejoth...and neither have sent any. Yet. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth)

In this moment of uncertainty, Rasavyth probably genuinely doesn't mean to make it worse. He just wonders without words a little too loudly: what if this isn't something that can be fought? (To local dragons from Rasavyth)

(To H'kon): A mother has lost her children. She's calling for them. Shit, is that Leova? Does she need help? Vey! Vari!

Not a dragon given to unnecessary displays of emotion, Reisoth is calm for Niahvth. As calm as he's capable of being, anyway, so near to the queen's emotions. (To local dragons from Reisoth)

Rafevan isn't known for being especially animated. Not for running or yelling either one. But these may all be things he's presently doing, voice echoing down the hallway he's in, away from the others. "The roof's coming down!" Does the warning reach them over the deep rumble of crumbling stone? Maybe; maybe not. It fades, in fact: he's going the other way from them, if the echo is anything to judge by. They? Might just be walking into whatever it is.

"There!" Lya points for Keysi. Then a squeak from the blonde, "Shit!" The dress is tossed over her shoulder and she's sprinting in the direction she indicated, accidentally yanking at the candidate's arm as she goes.

(To Leova): Are your children in there? A man, he just ran by you saying something. Screaming something? Sky falling? Ceiling falling? Something?

(To H'kon): Did you just see that man who ran by? What was he yelling? The ceiling falling? What if there are others, unable to get out? Do you go? Do you dare?

Keysi shakes her head, then, as some noise finds her own ears the disbelief dissolves. "It's not.. but.. There's something..." The healer barely gets it out before Lya starts running towards it, with Keys in tow. There's very minimal resistance at first, and even less as she's keeping pace if not gaining speed towards the sound, and the sight that she caught just out of the corner of her eye. Rafevan's shouts never reach her.

The man. Running by. Yelling. Leova can't yell, she hasn't that much breath, Vrianth storming in her head to go back but the children are... she has to get to them.

To local dragons, Cadejoth's voice reaches out again, his chains silent and still-- so silent, so still; so unusual-- but this time he has purpose, sending out commands: one dragon to the Minecraft Hall; another to the Smiths, to the Woodcrafters. « Stay where you are, » he warns the Weyr. « There's damage. No one is to approach. Stay where you are. »

H'kon carries on retracing his steps, back the way he'd come, back to all those rooms. He'd checked them, superficially, on his quest. Now, he looks with a purpose.

From afar, Ghena looks wide eyed and panicked. "Gaela! Raleri!" The bluerider shouts, as she ducks down the hall, against her lifemate's warnings. She did see them heading this way didn't she? Bounding through the hall on long legs. "This is what I get for agreeing to babysit." She scolds herself.

Ghena looks wide eyed and panicked. "Gaela! Raleri!" The bluerider shouts, as she ducks down the hall, against her lifemate's warnings. She did see them heading this way didn't she? Bounding through the hall on long legs. "This is what I get for agreeing to babysit." She scolds herself.

There. The Weyr itself seems to sigh, and there's one last low rumble before silence. The good kind? Those in the bowl suddenly see a few dragons who live above the Weyr entrance area skittering off their ledges, lifemates in various states of dress or undress in tow.

From a weyr, whose ledge is located just above the Weyr's entrance, « Our floor is is crumbling. But not gone. » The blue sounds more fascinated than afraid. « We vacate. » He is not the only one, as a handful of others chime in in varied degrees of flailing. (To local dragons from Niahvth)

Out there, thats what might be happening. Here? Here. There are no children. No recalcitrant nieces or nephews. No kittens. Just... you in a hallway. And the sudden roar of rocks pelting down and the ceiling, quite literally, falling on your heads. Duck. Run. Find cover.

(To Leova): One large stone beans you in the forehead, the sharp edge of it drawing blood of the deep kind. Is that a large boulder coming down? Move quick. Quickly, lest you, or that lovely ankle of yours gets trapped.

To local dragons, Lythronath wants to see. Lythronath's interest presses.

An aging woman, having followed down after Leova calling for her kids, shrieks and skitters back, stumbling out of the hallway. "Run!" she cries. "Run!"

Louder, now, and more insistent: « Stay. Until we know what's happening. Stay where it is safe. In the bowl, if you need to. Stay. » (To local dragons from Cadejoth)

Stay where they are; a call to Smith, Wood, Minecrafts; thuds and booms; some dragons forced to vacate their weyrs from crumbling floors. Ilicaeth's (along with his rider's) mind puts 2 and 4 together to offer up a disturbed, « Cave-in, somewhere... » Are there people or dragos trapped? Yeeees, yes, bawss. *He'll* 'stay.' Gheeze. Lythronath gets a guard's brow-lifted stare. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth)

She runs, Leova runs, smaller rocks falling and tumbling and shoulder and upthrust arm and a harder one gets her, she's bleeding now and into her eyes but a boulder's rumbling and she has to yank her foot away and something rips and this is all there is, rocks and falling and rumbling and blinding.

As /H'kon/ crouches. Not fast enough, that search. "Gah!" It's guttural, grunted, and comes with the raising of one arm up above his head, instinctive, as he crouches and looks out of an (empty) room, and down into the hallway, where rocks are falling.

(To K'del): A man wearing the colors of a Tillekian tithe master runs, his eyes scanning in that distinct way people do when searching for something. "The ceiling is falling! There are people! I saw a woman seeking her children go down there. This shell foresaken place."

"Hells-" It's not a yell, it's a statement as Keysi clenches her teeth and turns on her sole to try to find- and then grab if possible- Lya. "Faster, move!" She demands, throwing herself back suddenly as a large hunk of rock crashes down where she'd been standing. Not fast enough to evade everything, pieces smack against her, ripping clothing where pieces graze instead of clobber. Larger ones coming, she's sure, but she seems focused on Lya.

Lycinea was born to run (cowardly, self-preservingly). She's nimble enough. "The dress!" It might at first seem the cry of a too-dedicated assistant, but no, it's a cry with purpose as she grabs the full skirts and whisks it up over her head, and hopefully Keysi's too, with the practiced whip of one whose changed a lot of linens in her day. The dress doesn't provide a lot of defense, but if Keysi will think to grab it, when Lya said, "Stretch it tight!" it might afford them a little extra help to avoid being bludgeoned by the smaller stuff at any rate as they move.

To local dragons, Rasavyth's ledge is sizeable, and evidently safe judging by the fact that the floor is still there (yay!). It might seem odd to some, but a wordless current of invitation allows for the stranded to come, to borrow his space for now, if they wish a higher vantage.

And just as suddenly. Everything goes quiet. A few pebbles fall here and there, but the world is decidedly dark, except the few glow lanterns that were already here. But when were they last replaced? It is oddly, terrifyingly quiet enough now that every rock shift can be heard. Everything from breathing to whimpers sounds magnified and louder in this dead end warren of barely used rooms and one stretch of hallway. A few rooms are inaccessible due to rubble, but there are beds in others, blankets, a few chairs and desks that have escaped major damage. It is... quiet.

It may not have been Cadejoth's intention to let it leak, but there it is: trapped. The thought is bit back as soon as it escapes, but too late; agitation does wonders for mental leakage. (To local dragons from Cadejoth)

To local dragons, Arekoth's piercing shriek, the slice of brilliant green across his mind's nightsky, it all comes with motion. The brown is airborne. His rider is trapped.

Ghena trips as the world goes dark and silent, tumbling against the debris with a sickening thud and hiss of lost breath. She doesn't move.

From the outside, Down they come, Rafevan leading a company back into the tunnels underneath. He traces his path with one hand on the wall, a feverish look and dust coating him all over: he must have only just been ahead of the collapse. And it's easy to tell when they reach their destination: the tunnel ends in a wall of rubble, tumbling down across the floor. "Here, I think there's someone behind here," he tells those who've followed him. "There were voices, just before it came down."

Eventually, H'kon will move from where he'd thrown himself back, crouched, protected, not unscathed, but not badly wounded either. It will take him time to assess the situation, to begin digging his way out of the little room that, somehow, didn't come in on itself like its neighbour. When this is all said and done, his dragon will no doubt guess at what he has where, to have made him so lucky.

Keysi takes the hint, but is slow to pick up the edge, sharp stones pummelling her fingers as she tries. But she manages, a bit. As they move, one of the last large boulders to fall does connect bluntly with her upper back, now in the darkness. Now unable to see the big things to avoid. The impact and something beneath her feet causes Keys to fall hard, still reflexively holding onto the once-protected dress to take Lya right along with her for a hard, dusty tumble.. At least everything else is silent now. And dark. And dusty. All that.

From the outside, Despite her brave words, Quinlys' footsteps falter as they approach. "Are you sure it's safe for us to be here?" she wonders, eyes-wide, her voice kept very carefully quiet. "Cadejoth said they've sent for help. Maybe we should--" But there's that rubble, that rockfall, and it makes her voice quaver. "Do you think-- hello?" Can they hear her?

From the outside, Schuyler is right on Rafe's heels. "Hello? Is anyone in there? Are you OK?" he calls, hearing muffled sounds. "Should we try to clear out the debris, dig them out?" builder he is not.

trapped trapped trapped Leova's breathing is hoarse, growing hoarser. Blood drips, sticky, smelling of iron. It's dark. She moves. Rocks move. Unstable.

From the outside, Laine cusses, not for the first time this evening, "Fuck." That wall of rubble earns another expletive, just to be safe. "We didn't bring--anything. Rafe, we need more than just people." The tanner apprentice moves as though to lay a hand on his arm, her hand hovering in the air just above his dusted sleeve. "Are you okay?"

From the outside, Edyis jogs in, eyes wide, batting at the dust. Spotting other candidates, she coughs. "What happened? I heard rumbling."

From the outside, There's a large boulder wall at the end of this hallway. And by boulders, we mean rocks of the big and small variety. Could some of it be picked away? The sounds from within are muffled. They hear you, but probably in the same way you hear them.

From the outside, "I'm a Smith, I know what I'm doing," Rafe tells Quinlys in that same near-frantic tone, scrambling closer. The wall of earth and stone shifts slightly under his feet. Only Laine's hand seems to settle him down; Rafevan takes deep breaths, eyes closing for a moment. He looks--marginally--more composed when he reopens them. "I think it's stabilized for now, but we'll need to brace it and make sure nothing else is going to come down before we move the big pieces. But if we can get a hole through it--see if they're okay--."

Ghena groans, blinking against the darkness, something hot and wet dripping down her side. Fortunately the dim light slowly starts to make things less... strange. "Hello?" Debating on whether or not to move.

There was a cry as Lya fell, tumbled in the dark, then silence from the slender blonde. Until, breathing. Breathing hard and quick. Panicked breathing. It's close to Keysi, given that Lya is half-under her. If there were light, she could see how narrowly she missed hitting her head on the a sharp bit rock that now cradles her. There's surely cuts and bruises, but for Lya the real danger is that she is quickly losing it. Breaths become pants become strangled sobs.

From the outside, Schuyler is taking stock of the rubble. "Here, I think." he moves towards a pile and pauses to look at the Smith. "Not gonna move anything without your say so though, I don't want to make anything worse."

From the outside, Does he? Quinlys' dubiousness is surely not because of Rafevan; surely, it's more to do with a hallway collapsed in her weyr and holy fuck now what. "Do you need... equipment? Or something? What can we do?" She's uncomfortable, staring at that wall, her gaze going vacant every so often. "If something goes wrong, K'del will kill me."

"Vari." It's a hoarse call. "Vey." Leova. "Vari. Vey?" She has to stop, has to breathe.

Sobs, sobs at least are something. Wincing Ghena inches away in the direction of those sobs. Then the horse call. "It's ok." Even if it really isn't. "Whose there?" She calls with all that she can manage.

From the outside, It's everyone ignores the Weyrleader day! After sussing out from a series of mangled gossip where the epicenter for it all was, Irianke strides down into the fray. While other dragons tell their riders to get out, Niahvth is apparently urging hers in. "I think," says the goldrider in a rare moment of speaking outloud, if quietly so, to her invisible friend, "Your eggs are quite safe, love. Oh, shit." She stands at the back, a large gap between herself and the people gathered around the wall.

Keysi is very silent, motionless, for moments. Long moments, and then. "Mmghn.." The healer groans. The rapid breaths beneath her are the first thing to the forefront of her conciousness. "Are. you. okay?" She breathes, and then realizing their positioning, tries to shove herself off of Lya. She rolls to the side, flopping onto the harder ground beside her. The taste of iron in her mouth. The breathing. The murmurings that sound so far away. The silence is becoming less so, rapidly, the more she becomes aware of the distance.

From the outside, Another set of footsteps sounds behind those in the (open) hallway: a greenrider, and with her, a man wearing a Master Minecrafter's knots. They're a few steps behind Irianke, and both falter as she arrives; the Minecrafter straightens, his escort freezes, and then: "Report." The man's sharp to the point of officiousness. "Who's in charge?" And then: "I'm taking charge."

"Vari." It doesn't let up. It isn't okay. "Vey. Vrianth. Vrianth." Quieter, "Vey."

From the outside, Laine's picked her way around debris to come up against that rough, bouldered wall, and she cautiously reaches out her hand to place, gingerly, on the heap. She startles back by the resulting pebbles, clatter and rattling down in a brief shower of dust and gravel, and her head whips around at the sound of that crisp minecrafter.

From the outside, Schuyler turns to look when someone announces he's taking control. "There are people back there. Not sure how many though." he reports. A moment of hesitation then, "We were about to start trying to clear some of the rubble." for all the panicking everyone else seems to be doing he's rather collected.

"Uh-" Sniffle-not-sob, "huh-" and a shuddery breath. Then a high pitched wheezing sound as Lya tries to hold in a cry that wants to come out. She probably hears Ghena, but probably, too, she cannot gain enough breath and command herself enough to not just start sobbing if she tries to answer. "Are-" she starts to ask Keysi but by the second word she's raggedly sobbing. Lycinea was not made for disaster.

From the outside, For once, Rafevan almost looks relieved to see a Master show up, releasing a breath he hardly seems to be holding. He's clearly been involved already, considering he's filthy and everyone else isn't--yet. "Sir," he says, one hand braced against the wall, with relief. "The collapse started... I think it started a hallway over and blew out to this one as the integrity of the tunnels was compromised. It seems to have stabilized now, so if we have people, materials, to shore it up enough to start moving the debris--." His voice is still intense, but calmer now, under control. No more scrambling to start helping before they know what's going on.

"Vrianth." It's quieter now. The green's only a little closer by now: not by the caverns' entrance to the Bowl, but flown over the caldera's edge to the Weyr's entrance to the road, as close as she can get. It's just as hoarse, or hoarser. "Vrianth."

From the outside, Irianke does not say or do anything to indicate she believes otherwise. This man is in charge. "Please let me know if there is anything, anything we can do for you. I need to go get the Headwoman to do a headcount and census of the lower caverns. Excuse me." Having ascertained that the damage will likely not impact her dragon's eggs, much to Niahvth's reassurance, Irianke lingers for a few more moments, waiting to be directed to do something before she goes off to do duties she is an expert at executing.

From the outside, Edyis frowns, watching Rafevan, and Quinlys. The greenrider and the Minecrafter, are studied, but it is Sky's report causes those dark brows to crease, moving over to Irianke. "Probably should get a head count then?" Rolling up her sleeves. It's a suggestion only.

Ghena inches along the corridor in the direction of the voices and sobs wincing as she moves. Out in the bowl, Knioth paces and circles frustrated by the spaces he is too large to get into.

From the outside, The master salutes Irianke respectfully as she passes, taking her word-- and Rafevan's acquiescence-- as confirmation of his own position. "Right then. We need to shore it up, and we need to get a hole through, so we can talk to them. See what they need. Apprentice--" Orders follow. And they are orders, not instructions: everyone is put to work clearing rubble, helping to bring in wooden struts and supports, and keeping an eye out for further damage.

"Here." Keysi seems unnaturally calm as she reaches to take Lya's hand, and then promptly squeeze it gently if she's able to take it. Her voice is still neutral, her breaths slow as she tries to control them. Laying on her back, her arm seems like all she's willing to move after her initial roll. The soreness is overwhelming. "Listen." She says after a beat or two, staring up into the darkness with one eye, the other closed to the sting of the blood that rolls down her head into it. "People. Here to help."

Lycinea's hand wraps tightly around Keysi's, perhaps as though it's her anchor in their own personal storm. The storm of rock. There's another strangled noise, like a cat dying (don't worry it's just Lya~). She manages after some moments, interspersed by whimpers, coughs and sobs that don't get full voices, "Do they-- even know we're-- here?" And, "It's so-- dark."

From the outside, While he's not a miner, Rafevan clearly has at least some understanding of engineering, enough to be of good use when it comes to supporting the half-collapsed cavern. "Do we know of any riders?" he asks then: with the dragons connected to them, they're an easier set to locate when it comes to figuring out who's trapped.

From the outside, When another gentle brush of fingers results in a cloud of dust and more pebbles clattering down around her feet, Laine edges away. Even as that master is issuing curt orders and directives, Laine is pushing back against the side of the tunnel, sidling. Not leaving, but excusing herself for a moment. It's there, somewhere behind the commotion, behind the help being put to work, that she hears the sniffle, the sharp snuff of a snotty nose, and there: two children, very young and very dusty. "Hey. Hey!" She's not shouting at them, she's shouting for attention. Then she just gestures.

From the outside, Quinlys' throat is dry. She's helping-- inexpert, but determined-- but information is something she does have to hand: "Vrianth's-- Leova. Leova's in there. Arekoth's, H'kon, too, I believe. I don't know about others. But that's a start."

From the outside, A look steals from the master in charge to Quinlys, Irianke's gray-blue eyes softening at the inexpert determination that drives the weyrlingmaster. But she has work to do and with a nod to those who work with her hands, the goldrider moves swiftly to take stock of the lower caverns with Giorda and her minions.

From the outside, Schuyler is here for heavy lifting. He's carefully removing as much rubble as possible, following the instructions carefully. A pause, "Can you hear us in there?" he calls towards the inside of the wall. "Is anyone hurt?" he works diligently as he calls into the rubble.

"I can't.." Keysi coughs, but the coughs are clipped short for space for breath, "call." Short breaths. "I'm sure they-" pause "don't know who." The call from a muffled but (maybe?) familiar voice confirms that thought. "Can you tell them your name? Mine?" And, remember that although they're best-disaster-friends at the moment, a name is important, "Keysi."

From the outside, Following the Master Miner, there are other experts: a Smith, a Woodcrafter, a healer, too-- although Madilla is local, and holds back for now while there's no one she can immediately assist. Between them (other than the healer, of course), it's possible to secure the area as much as possible, and even produce a hole. As it breaks through, there's a flurry of dust on the other side, and, abruptly, light.

From the outside, When they're finally managing to break through, Rafevan takes a step back, rather than being one of the ones that pushes forward, glows lifted and bright, straining to see and speak through the hole. The smith just sidles backward, away from the group; though that does make Laine's discovery more apparent. "What--?" Rafe begins, blinking and wiping his dusty face as he stares at her, then the children. From the outside, Laine's crouched down next to those young children--four, maybe four and half turns--and when Rafevan draws nearer, she looks up at him with a helpless sort of expression. "I don't know. They're scared. Is there a healer? Anyone? I don't know what to do--" She spreads her hands. Tunnel cave-in? Laine's cool enough. But two dusty, scared children? Laine's clueless.

Lycinea has a lot of practice yelling, yes she does. There is an awful lot of dust. The "Lya," that is given to Keysi in answer for the exchange of names that must seal the emergency bestie deal, is easier to get out than the call of their names, "Keysi! Lycinea!" that eventually manage to make it out of her loud enough that they might be heard on the other side for someone keen of ear. Hopefully, the names will be interpreted as what they're meant to be. It's quieter after, and with less half-sobs that she finally asks, "Are you okay?" of the girl holding her hand.

From the outside, With the hole opened, it's easier to hear those inside-- to shine that glow in, and then to call: "I hear you," says the Minecrafter, still taking charge despite the presence of other experts. "We hear you. We're going to get you out. Safely. As soon as we can. Are you hurt? There's a healer--?" From the outside, "Hey," says Rafe, bending down in front of the two children. They're quite probably as dusty as he is--his eyes are very pale in all the ash-grayness of his skin just now--but he tries to sound as calm as possible. "Hi. Are you okay? Are you down here with someone else? Mommy? Daddy? I'm Rafe," he tells them, with a deep breath. The pair is an almost welcome distraction while everyone else is making contact with the living--or the dead--on the other side of that wall of rubble.

From the outside, Schuyler is close enough to the opening when they finally break through that the first thing he hears are names he recognizes. "Keys! Lya! Are you guys OK?" he pauses. "Why isn't Keys talking for herself?" he wonders aloud. "Are you hurt?" is the next question, right on top of the Miner's questions.

"Vrianth." It's quieter now. Slower. Fading on the exhale.

From the outside, Edyis looks up from the work, spotting Laine, and perhaps more notably the two snotty faces. She wipes her hands on the apron moving over to where Laine is standing. She crouches to get a better look at the snotty faces, and though it's after a minute her eyes go wide. She glances between Rafe and Laine. "These two are Leova's. Veylin and Varian." The once scribe yanking at her apron strings immediately to start trying to wipe those faces. "It's going to be ok." She murmurs to the boy and girl.

Keysi is quiet for awhile, but her grip hasn't relaxed, so she's still there. "Aye." She says quietly. "Think it's just ribs." Among wounds and a concussion, but the primary reason for her uncomfortable breathing. "Just sore." Very.. very sore. But not-death. Then. Light. And more of Sky's voice, though clearer. And an older gentleman, unfamiliar. But instead of responding to him, she squeezes Lya's hand for her attention as she finally takes in the soft ..concerning.. voice somewhere near-ish. "Who else? Can you see?" Small breath, or two. "Of Vrianth?" That's when Keys releases Lya's hand to try to force herself up. It's a very.. slow process.

From the outside, In the entrance to the hallway, now? K'del, who is promptly joined by several of the Masters-- all, indeed, but the Miner still hovering by the newly opened hole-- with whom he engages in quiet conversation. The Weyrleader's pale blue eyes keep flicking towards the debris and rubble, dark shadows already visible beneath them; exhausted already. "I want round the clock supervision," he says, voice carrying despite being kept low. "Keep people away, as much as possible. Under supervision, otherwise. If it's as unstable as all that-- I want no more accidents."

From the outside, (Quinlys freezes at the sound of his voice, but doesn't look in his direction. Luckily, K'del doesn't look at her, either.)

"Vrianth." Quieter still.

From the outside, They're so dusty and grotty, it might be hard even for a parent to tell which is which, but Veylin does talk for her brother and she does so now: something babbled about mommy that has Varian chorusing about daddy and starting to cry all over again. Clean faces?! Tragedy!

From the outside, Laine stands, pressing back against the tunnel wall once the two children have been named by Edyis, and the tanner smiles gratefully. "Edyis," she breathes, "you're a saint. Can I leave them with you? I want to help--but then that crying starts up again, and Laine's frantically looking between Edyis and Rafevan while murmuring, "hey, hey. Guys. It's okay. Your mommy's okay. Shh--shh--shh."

From the outside, Rafevan doesn't try to wipe any faces, and maybe that's why he and Laine end up with the two children clinging to them, whether they like it or not. "Here, I'll, uh. I'll take them to find their dad," Rafevan volunteers after a moment, awkwardly. "I could... use the air." What with his own near-death experience and all.

It's most likely in the Emergency Besties Book of Rules that when one bestie is injured and trying to get up, the less injured bestie is supposed to help. Lya must not have gotten a copy of the rulebook, or it's too dark to see, or she's (quietly) panicking a new at having her hand released. While she doesn't assist Keysi, she does start moving on her own. Her own injuries can't be seen yet but must be milder for she moves with greater facility than her companion. "I don't know. I can't see. It's dark." There are some sniffles, and her voice is at a constant waver, but at least she's not sobbing any more (right now).

From the outside, "Glows." Someone thrusts some into Schuyler's hands as if to push him towards the hole-- presumably to feed them through. At least they're small. From the outside, Edyis looks to Laine a little suprised, but it is Rafevan to the rescue. "Anvori, he might be near the Snowasis... if..." She doesn't dare utter the alternative. "Thank you Rafevan." Edyis murmurs gratefully.

From the outside, Schuyler is about to call for glows when they're being shoved into his hands. "Thanks..." is the offhanded response and he stats feeding them through the hole. "Sending in some glows!" he continues to feed them through.

From the outside, "If Leova's--awake," says Rafevan after a moment, his expression grim when he looks back toward the group talking through the hole in the rubble. "Tell her the kids are safe. They're fine." They're a little big to carry, at least both of them, but he's game to try, bending down to scoop both the crying children up. And then he's disappearing down the hall, away from the press of people in various states of panic and productivity. "I'm sorry," he tells Veylin and Varian then, once they're away down the hall. "It's--it'll be okay."

"Where are you hurt?" Keysi finally gets herself at least in a sitting position, the flash of renewed discomfort making her too light headed to stand. She'll have to stay right here. For now. And use the giant boulder behind her to lean back on. A bit bumpy, but convenient. The sound of the voice nearby had faded, silenced. The healer, unable to investigate herself and shrouded in the dark, she has a moment of frustration, of knowing someone is more hurt and she can't see them. "Don't go too far.." To Lya. Keys quiets as she catches her breath again. Rafevan's direction catches her attention as an answer to her previous question, "Don't. See. Her." Very hard to raise her voice to respond to him, the harsh, hoarse words come broken between breaths.

From the outside, Once Rafevan's left with the two children, Laine watching him go with a short nod for his instruction, the apprentice tanner can turn her attention to doing something productive with her hands. At least, she eases herself nearer to the newly-made hole where Sky is pushing glows through to those trapped on the other side.

From the outside, Edyis nods to the smithcrafter, "I will be sure to." And she watches, as they leave, brows drawn together again. She turns to Laine then, when they are well out of sight. "You here when it happened?" Falling into the work again easily enough near her friend.

Ghena is still inching toward those voices, and it's a sharp echoing fuck that indicates she's caught her injury on something. Still she can hear Keysi and Lycinea and that's where she keeps moving, even if she shouldn't.

From the outside, In the short-term, there's not much to do - except talk to those inside, and fetch what they need. The Masters stay in conversation, though eventually K'del takes his leave again, glancing back over his shoulder to look around before he goes. The tension is palpable; the solemnity too. After he's gone, at least other things show up: food and water, blankets. And there's Madilla with her healing supplies. At least those trapped can have that much.

From the outside, "No," Laine shakes her head. "In the galleries. Heard it all the way there. Felt it." She searches Edyis' face with her grey eyes, her mouth tugging downward. "What happened? This is so messed up."

From the outside, Schuyler turns when Laine and Edyis show up next to him. "Hey, you two doing OK?" he asks them then holds up a hand and calls into the hole. "Anyone able to get those? Can you tell us if anyone is hurt?" he catches Laine's comment, "So messed up." he agrees, trying not to have that comment make it through the hole.

From the outside, "I have no idea; I heard it, from the barracks." Edyis murmurs, dark eyes watching the chaos settle into order around them. "I thought cave in's were something you only saw in mines, not tunnels that have been stable for hundreds of turns." Someone is rethinking the whole living in caves thing pretty hard at the moment.

If only Lya were trained for this. Or anything remotely like this. Despite the fact that a gulping breath has her saying. "I'm okay." Ish. "I won't, I'll be back," to the other girl, the injured girl, as she creeps along to try to find others, or perhaps looking for the hole? Or a way out? The darkness consumes her.

From the outside, Laine just shrugs, resigned, in response. She'll remain for as long as they need her, through--well into the night, if need be, offering her assistance wherever she can.

"Who is that?" Keysi asks of the air as she hears the particular curseword uttered. It's not that she's ignoring Sky, but it's so sharding painful to answer him. Or anyone. Why can't people just speak the way dragons do, for Faranth's sake. There's an uncharacteristic flare of anger as Lya is lost to the darkness, Leova remains unfound, and another unknown voice is getting closer to her. Her fingers scratch on the dust and rubble covered floor, squeezing them with intent to make them smaller rubble. Not that she has the strength for that. The flush of emotion, the pain, the loss of blood. It's enough to make anyone begin to falter. "Hmgh.." She groans. Sleep is winning.

"Ghena, of Blue Knioth." She groans, giving up on the inching foreward. "I picked the wrong damn day to babysit."

Voice quieter, as if fading, "Are you.. hurt.." Keysi attempts to ask, though her eyes have closed, given up on trying to penetrate the darkness around the slim column of light filtering through. "Ghena.." A whisper that trails off into the darkness as well, as she slips into unconciousness, leaving the bluerider alone.

From the outside, Schuyler strains to hear the voices on the other side of the wall. "Keys? Keysi, are you OK?" Why is noone answering. "There's got to be preople hurt in there." is his conclusion.