Logs:Rescued!
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| RL Date: 6 April, 2015 |
| Who: H'kon, Ghena, Keysi, Leova, Lycinea, V'ros, Irianke, K'del, Tomic, Alida, Schuyler, Edyis, Rafevan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: They are rescued! |
| Where: Hallway, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| The day leading up to the morning of the 19th there's a flurry of activity. Wooden beams and brackets and other steel beams to reinforce the ceiling and walls have been brought in, not that those on the inside can truly see anything outside. There's definitely more noise and more activity both outside that wall and just above their heads. At various points the day before, the Weyrleaders are heard conversing with the crafters. Overnight, there's blessed silence, with the occasional footsteps heard above and low chatter heard outside. The day leading up to the morning of the 19th, there's a flurry of activity. Wood beams, brackets, and steel beams are wrought into place to reinforce the ceiling and walls. Not that this is known to those within, but there's certainly the noises of productive work being done rather than just the dull thrum of confused and concerned chatter. There are noises from above of hammering, scooting, and footsteps. Lots of footsteps. At various points the day before, the Weyrleaders are heard conversing with the crafters. Then there's Giorda. Then there's the healers, Irianke, other, indistinct voices. Overnight, there's finally blessed silence, though oddly not ominous, with the occasional footsteps heard up and out. When morning comes, breakfast appears as normal, but the voices outside are definitively less, as if a controlled number of people have been allowed this close. A Master Miner directs: "You there, over here. You there, over there. You," he pauses at Rafevan and purses his lips, "Set your charges." From behind the wall, It's not the first time H'kon has tried to be helpful in getting Lya to stay hydrated. It's not the first time he's given her instructions (some seem to sink in despite the giving having gone poorly). But as with virtually every other time, it has ended in tears. Sometimes ones she attempts to hold in (making wheezing and squealing sounds like a dying animal), and others that she just surrenders to. He even tried to be nice this time! Oh well, there's Lya, some distance from the hole in the wall, but within eyesight, curled against rock, clutching the so very dirty, dusty, gross thing that was once a beautiful, fancy gown of Irianke's, and weeping again. Given the, uh, explosive nature of today's attempt, it's no wonder that only one of the Weyrleaders is in attendance; it would be bad form if everything went wrong and they both ended up in teeny, tiny little pieces. Right? In any case, K'del stands well back, first talking in a low voice with one of the Masters - a Smith, in this case - and then, as he heads off towards the rockfall, merely watching, arms folded. The lines of his forehead are tense; his shoulders are, too. From behind the wall, Keysi lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. As she always does. The cool stone always feels good on the gash on her back, and it keeps pressure off her chest as it heals. Staring. Staring upwards at nothing, or perhaps counting the lines in the rock of the slab above them, again, her fingers manipulating a couple of rocks between them- smoother now from constant wearing against her skin. Numbed to it all, even the change to the rythmic noises beyond 'their' wall. Whether she doesn't notice or doesn't care, it's impossible to tell. Rafevan, by this point, is looking more than a little ragged: he hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and his normally put-together clothes are rumpled like he barely slept. Not surprising, with the labor forces the smiths and company have called in: everyone's been busy, first arguing their ideas, then implementing the winning one. Rafe nods once to the Master Miner, mouth set with determination as he hops to work. Rigging a controlled explosion is delicate work, after all, if you don't want to bring the Weyr down on top of yourself. Rafevan is in no hurry at all this time. Time to get it right. Schuyler had been on the feeding rotation, but his strength was what was recruited today. He hovers towards the back of the hall, staying away from the blast zone ready to help. He finds himself near the Weyrleader but just nods at him, solemn in this moemnt. Vrianth twists in the chains, silent. Now and again there's a disruption: when there is one 'outside,' or when that weeping starts in. Again. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) The Master Miner seems to be the one in charge tonight, and though he gives K'del an acknowledging nod, he has no problems shooing the Weyrleader back a step and then reaching from his bag of tricks, a large bucket near a makeshift table set up, and hands the man a set of goggles. "Everyone who doesn't have a pair of goggles, get one and a hard hat." If this is meant to be a secret for those within, he's doing a piss poor job of staying quiet. Eventually, they'll have to be told, right? "You lot," he says to the seven weyrfolk who have been picked out for their various skills, "One for each person. Do you know who your point people are yet? Has anyone talked to you about this yet? One for each person. You run in when we get the wall down, and bodily drag them out. Two helpers, in case someone is particularly difficult. Or big." Not knowing just who is in there, this is a distinct possibility the miner is willing to accept. "The ceiling should hold." From behind the wall, H'kon rocks back, as if to sit on his haunches, though his legs ache and are stiff. He winds up falling to one hip, one bent leg flat, one upright. His forearm goes to rest on the upright knee, and the fingers of the hand that hangs midair flip helplessly at it. A glance is sent back over his shoulder, not so much to the others as to his dragon - or where he thinks he's located the brown. The mental conversations have increased in intensity, the longer he's been in here. Tired: "You need the hydration. You'll do better for it." And then he checks out, and tilts his head to the voices outside. To Vrianth, Cadejoth is here; has scarcely left. Would not. Can not. There's a spark in his chains, today: a hopeful one, hovering like light at the end of the tunnel. Could be. Maybe. Patience. From behind the wall, A pebble skitters. Leova's tossing them again. It's that or mutter. Skitter-skitter-skitter. Although not initially pleased to have been torn away from the nursery, when already he's been away some days in a row now, Tomic can appreciate the importance of this. There's no complaint from the big young man; no argument. He waits well back. He watches with some interest, squinting in his eyes. And he keeps quiet, awaiting instruction, his hands behind his back. It had to be that someone volunteered - perhaps one of his wingmates - V'ros' time today, not that the hapless brownrider thought to aid others in their time of need. He is in fact present, of the controlled number, but stands at the back, watching, waiting, with his normal bothered expression in place; eyebrows knitted, mouth set. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers of one hand tapping idly on the forearm of the other. Likely, he's noted the Weyrleader, and any other familiar riders amongst those present in the hallway, but his greetings have all been the voiceless variety, a nod here or a pointed stare. K'del's head turns to acknowledge Schuyler as the baker draws up beside him. "Good luck," he says, not much above a murmur. "Go-- go help. Get ready." He's not involved in the attempt, from the looks of it; just here to observe. To witness. "Good luck, everyone," is added, then, a little louder. "Stay safe." Schuyler steps to the piles of hats and goggles and nods understanding to the Miner, again, wordless he bends his knees, ready to dash into the fray as needed. To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth's agitated; has been all morning, really, in his way. Has been for days, but this is different, somehow: there's a rattle in his chains, and it's very nearly hopeful. Low voiced: "Are we really sure about this?" The woodcrafter Master doesn't look all that comfortable, frankly. Or happy. Among the other people who are here, there's a decided nervous thought: "What if the ceiling collapses on us too?" That earns a sharp look from a passing smith. "It won't," she says, her frayed temper on fine display in the snappish quality of her words. "That's our job to worry about. You just worry about getting those people safely out." She pauses and smiles, a little ferally, "Watch out for the smell?" Patience. She hates patience. She butts her muzzle into his neck as evidence, and then heaves out a hot, pained breath. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) To Vrianth, Cadejoth, too. Patience is the worst. But this... his tail flicks upon the ground, a relentless tattoo. 'Soon,' it seems to say. Soon. <OOC> Irianke says, "Figure of speech." From behind the wall, H'kon's distraction helps Lya quell her tears into silence, even if they still trickle from reddened rims with dark circles beneath. In the limited glowlight she's quite golden, which means she must, in fact, be very pale indeed. Wide eyes turn toward the hole and she goes deathly still as some words penetrate. The dress is clutched tighter. It's a wonder her fingers haven't fallen off. Oddly, perhaps, given all their unpleasant moments together, it's to H'kon she looks now with that wildly frightened gaze. The miner's instructions are met with little resistance, and no change in expression. Goggles and hardhat are acquire, and V'ros moves closer to the other weyrfolk charged with rescuing the people trapped behind the wall. He certainly doesn't look terribly strong or terribly confident', but at least he's there, right? Irianke steps up behind K'del and murmurs, "Don't make me leave. I'd like to see you try," she adds for good measure. K'del turns, half-startled by Irianke's presence, and her words. His grin is uneasy, more grim than anything, but his nod is acknowledgement. "Just don't get--" Exploded? Soon. Her tail flickers and goes still. She doesn't pounce. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) One carefully placed charge; another. Rafevan works methodically, aiming each charge in some precisely calculated spot of the wall blocking them off. And once all that is done? It's time to string the detonation cord itself; Rafevan paces that off down the hallway, a safe distance for all of them. "Ready to detonate, sir," he tells the Master Miner, with a glance over the crowd, their volunteers. He looks tense, to say the least. Tomic is not among those who is meant to dart in, to be the hero. He's among those who are meant to help with the debris and, if need be, go and try to support the supporting beams. There's one crafter he keeps looking to, the one in charge of his team, the backups, the reinforcements. When she takes a step back, so does he, as do many of the rest. With one hand, he grabs at the front of his shirt, and brings it up to cover his mouth and nose, testing its effectiveness. "If I do, at least you won't have to be the one to explain it to Igen," says the goldrider wryly. This is no happy occasion, even if hope struggles to not get too high on her face. Noticed by that smith, who looks none too pleased at Irianke there, she nonetheless is offered a hardhat and goggles, and joins the comical brigade of owlish blinkers. If Rasavyth has been agitated, it hasn't cropped up much on the public circuit. His ledge is still being offered freely to those having had to move from their own, in case they like the view better. He listens to the rattle of the chains, but might just be doing so because he's bored. Or because it's different. After some moments, he inquires, « What? » (To High Reaches dragons from Rasavyth) Schuyler glances at V'ros, his face set in grim determination. "Let's do this." he murmurs, eyes fixed on the wall. From behind the wall, H'kon's sense for when attention is being placed on him seems to have sharpened, in the darkness. It's not long before he looks back to Lycinea. "Drink some, now," comes as gentle as he can make it, though the wear of the last few days is more noticeable still in his voice. But he holds out a hand. Presumably, in case the dress needs to be held, but... the gesture, really, is Lycinea's to interpret as she will. The Master Miner ignores the woodcraft master. Damn overlapping crafts. "Right then," he says to Rafevan and moves to the wall and raps a hammer against the opening so it echoes. "We'd like it if you could moe to the far wall of your hallway. Don't be alarmed if there's a little debris." If there's more than a little debris, well... there's no directives on that. Ilicaeth's been rather busy, and not only with his typical duties. The craggy blue's kept a weather eye out on Vrianth and especially Knioth...offering distraction, advice, companionship, and granite-solid support the whole time their riders have been trapped. His consciousness perks at Cadejoth's hopefulness, waits for more potential information. (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth) To Vrianth and Arekoth, Cadejoth projects « Hold tight. » That agitation has increased to fever-pitch. It extends, now, to include Arekoth, too: « Both of them. All of them. They're trying. » To Cadejoth and Vrianth, Arekoth's impatience comes in a low atmospheric crackle. « Finally. » K'del can't, in all of this, manage a light-hearted reply to Irianke, though he attempts an exhale that could be (very) distantly related to a chuckle. If you squint, anyway. "Never thought I'd see us intentionally blow up the caverns," he says, low and dull and tight-wound with anxiety. He can't look at the goldrider, now; he's too busy staring at that rockfall. From behind the wall, Skitter skitter. Leova bounce-slides one pebble towards H'kon's toe. Another towards staring Keysi. There's no dearth of hard and stony earth. At the hammer's rap she glances up. But from that distance... "What?" From behind the wall, It's probably fear that makes Lycinea pliant (or the new degree of it, since she's been afraid and deeply so all along). The dress is let to fall into her lap (it's as safe there as anywhere, except through the hole where she arguably could've sent it much, much sooner). One hand takes the water from H'kon, while the other reaches for his hand, to hold it, grip it, if not tightly, not tentatively either. The contact seems to help, and she drinks a moment later, in slow steady swallows. To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth has no information, as such, but it's clear that something is going on-- and hasn't that rumour been spreading, regardless? « Soon, » he says, without explaining. Please. If she could teleport her rider out... Beneath that crackle, static. (To Arekoth and Cadejoth from Vrianth) The Master Miner, hearing movement, turns and gives it a few moments longer. One Benden drunken binge. Two Benden drunken binge. Three Benden drunken binge... Twenty Benden drunken binge. "Don't fuck this up, kid," he says to Rafe as he walks back behind the chalk line, and turns to survey the wall and the charges pressed against it. "EVERYONE READY," he bellows. From behind the wall, Keysi's dull grey gaze settles on Leova, her fingers coming up with her 'special' pebbles with intent to return the gesture,, but she's startled upright when a hammer is rapped against the opening. The motion is way too quick, and she hisses, clutching a hand over the bandages of her chest. "...What?" Is echoed of Leova to the 'outsiders'. The realization doesn't really hit her, though she does work at standing. Slow, gentle, she gets up with a grunt, her eyes narrowed as if annoyed. "What are you doing?" Standing, she backs up, though doesn't turn away yet. Their riders may have -- must have -- heard, but Cadejoth shares it anyway: the attempt. Hold! Careful! Now! (To Arekoth and Vrianth from Cadejoth) One deep breath. Rafevan lights the cord, bent over as it starts to burn down, faster and faster toward the charges laid out by the wall of rubble. Three. Rafevan covers his ears, to go with the goggles and hat. Two. Everything is silence and held breath. One. BOOM. With a rifle blast of air, noise, heat--the wall of rubble crashes down, dust flying into the air, debris thrown everywhere. Most of it is small, at least. Most of it. And the wall is gone. From behind the wall, All of a sudden Leova stares up into nothingness... and scrabbles away from that opening, as best she and her splint can go. Only then there's that boom. She's coughing, one arm wrapped around her head, her ears. From behind the wall, H'kon's head jerks toward Leova; his gaze is as sharp and piercing as his dragon's profile. His hand grips Lycinea's instinctively, both for the touch of one human hand to another, and at that rapping. It's only a moment afterwards that he's turning his back to the wall, between himself and that girl whose got hold of him. Alida has been working like a grunt alongside of the others, a part of group 7, working with mechanical precision and not a word of complaint. At this point, the blonde is covered in sweat, dirt, grit...much like others working in here. Outside, Ilicaeth paces some, his tail twitching more and more often as the humans close in on their goal. ANd now that there's the final BOOM to clear the way, the softly-panting bluerider is more eager than ever to get to the heart of the matter. To High Reaches dragons, Lythronath projects « BOOM! Hahahaha! » With the wall gone, or most of it, it means there's a moment of baited breath where everyone waits for something worse to happen. There's a rain of debris, and an audible SHIT from above that does not sound promising. Not at all. The pebbles that fall range from dust to small, but nothing that would hurt anyone. Not unless they were really unlikely. There's smoke, some ash, and a wave of haze that makes it hard to see and breathe. Even with his nose and mouth covered, K'del coughs; splutters. He blinks depserately against the smoke and ash, straining to see... to no avail. He's silent; what is there to say? Tomic starts back a little at that boom, and keeps his big hand over the shirt over his mouth. And then thinks to spread his fingers, and gasp in some air. He blinks furiously, even far away. Schuyler covers his face as the blast goes off. Then, he turns to the head miner, "Now?" he asks, on the balls of his feet ready to run in and get everyone out before something worse happens. To Cadejoth and Vrianth, Arekoth's winter sky is lit up by a flare of orange, crowned in green, cracking more like thunder. Irianke flinches, two hands on K'del's shoulders as the instinct to survive somehow makes him her human shield. The smoke reaching her makes her cough wickedly into his back, a deep breath sending her into a tizzy of coughing again. Someone's 'shit' from above is reason for Alida to look a little pensive and concerned, the blonde squinting against all the rock dust in the air, though the large hankee tied about the back of her head to cover nose and mouth keeps her from inhaling any of the floating crud in the air. "What the fuck was *that* for?" her alto inquires of nobody in specific. From behind the wall, Keysi turns quickly- adrenaline shielding her from the consequential shock, staggering a few steps backwards until she, too, is right next to H'kon. Instinctively, she grabs onto the wingsecond as well, partly because she needed to, and partly because she didn't want to lose sight of them again. Her back towards the dust and debris as it flies, not the best shield given its condition, and she holds her breath... "Rescuers, go!" the Master Miner directs like a cavalryman readying for the charge, his arm swinging forward. Notably, he is not coughing. K'del, human shield and human handkerchief, manages not to flinch too much, though he does turn his head to ascertain the goldrider's wellness-- at least she is close enough to see. And that's all it takes, Sky is darting forward, picking his way through the dust and the rubble. At some point he pulled his shirt over his face to keep out as much dust as possible. He blinks. "Shards it's hard to see through all this dust. Where are you guys?" he calls into the cavern, then pausing to cough from the debris. From behind the wall, What H'kon hears is 'go'. And in that moment, he is getting his legs up under him, shakily, but not failing, adrenaline-fueled. "Up now," goes to those girls, loud, ears ringing, his gentleness gone. But he's got hands holding both of theirs, and those lift carefully, rather than commandingly, as he stutters upwards. From behind the wall, Lycinea's grip goes as close to vice-like as she can manage in her weakened state. If she'd wanted to sob, she can't. The dust and debris is too suddenly oppressive in her throat. She's not staring anymore, but squinting, her eyes having flinched instinctively at the boom and not yet recovered. She looks dazed, even with H'kon ordering. It will take a pull on her hand to get her up, her free hand dropping the water and grabbing what's important (Irianke's ruined dress), but then she will go, dazedly, and stumbling along with the wingsecond where he wills. From behind the wall, Leova's huddled, a piece of debris beneath her dusty blanket, coughing and coughing as elsewhere Vrianth hisses. While everyone else is rushing in, Rafe is staying back, his part done for the time being. He waits with bated breath too, watching the dust in the air for some sign of people emerging. "It... worked." Someone sounds surprised. "It worked," utters the master miner, the air starting to clear, making it easier to see the wall collapsed and nothing of the ceiling, well, not much of the ceiling falling atop them. Such confidence. The initial explosion and resulting onslaught of pebbles had made V'ros cover his head with his arms, in anticipation, but they uncurl from their protective stance when it seems like everything is settling. His attention stays on the Master miner, probably waiting for his cue, but still, when it's given, he's hesitates, staring at the place where the explosion just went off. He takes a steadying breath before ducking his head and running in. "Fuck," is his immediate reaction to the haze in the air, but then he hears-- what? Coughing? From behind the wall, The coughing doesn't stop, not Leova's anyway, though it's interrupted by a hiccup... and then a word the twins really shouldn't hear. From behind the wall, "Leova, Ghena." Keysi's voice is demanding as she looks at the brownrider through the haze, her breath released from its hold, as she makes some resistance against H'kon's grasp. The concept of 'others coming to the rescue' may not be quite accepted yet, and she seems unmoving after she's gotten back to her feet. Her free hand covers her mouth as she restrains a painful cough. From behind the wall, Ghena hacks, more dust, yay explosions. "Trying... to rescue us, or kill us?" She coughs. "I'm here. Unless... this is where you go when you die. In which case the scenery sucks." Schuyler catches the sound of Keysi's voice. "Keys! Where are you? C'mon, let's get out of here...Now!" he coughs again and works his way towards where he heard her voice. It's so quiet. Why is it so quiet? Vrianth hisses again, but it doesn't help. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) From behind the wall, "Don't worry," says H'kon, "K'del is here." And there's still that old innate trust in his voice, this a satisfying reassurance to offer. "They will be seen to. Now," and he pulls a bit more, to both Lycinea and Keysi at once, "up." Except the last word comes out as a bit of a cough as he turns, and heads toward the voices, with whosoever should stay attached to him. From above, the ceiling seems stable. But there is a definite scramble to do something. Fix something? Whatever it is they do to shore up ceilings. Hearing this, the rescuers are preempted by a small contingent of crafters racing in ahead of schedule with their beams and tools, working from beneath to assist their counterparts above. In doing so, they've inadvertently created new obstacles to bypass. To Vrianth, Cadejoth's chains are jangling like bells, now, and less from agitation-- this is exaltion! « They're through! » Soon, soon, soon, soooooon. And with them, Tomic! He's not there to fix; he's there to clear things away so that structures can be seen and set up. He's there, and he's in the way too, even when he hunches those big shoulders down to the task at hand. But that task: it's gettin' done. "Go, go, go," K'del is saying, though his words are more 'whisper' than command: he's not in charge here, and not trying to be. He's happy. But. « She sees dust. » And Vrianth can't hear. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) Coughing from multiple directions and a.. hiccup. "Where are you?" he calls out into the haze, trying his best to see beyond a scant distance in front of his feet, which is hard. V'ros moves carefully, if quickly, trying to find anyone.. anything. "This is shit," the brownrider grumbles as he steps over a large-sized rock that came from.. whichever explosion. "Where?" More urgent, pressing. To Vrianth, Cadejoth projects « They're coming, » he promises, faithfully. « They're coming. » From behind the wall, Lycinea's hand is still in H'kon's and she is still following him. Unsurprisingly, she is not stayed by concern for her fellow cave-trapped companions. Perhaps she has faith they'll be seen to. Perhaps she has too healthy a sense of self-preservation. Maybe she's just a coward. She stays attached to him only until they're through the pass and can see bodies on the other side - living ones, rescuer ones. It's moments more before her eyes catch on Irianke and she manages a dust-choked sound of relief before ripping her hand away from H'kon's and making to throw herself upon the goldrider, the dress forgotten on the ground. Not darting forward, as that could cause chaos, Alida more adroitly picks her moment and inserts herself into the flow of traffic moving to extract people from behind that pierced wall of rubble. Whatever limb sticks out is quickly examined, then grasped firmly and slowly tugged towards her, Alida trying not to be rough in case that someone's injured. The muffled sound of a male voice within the rubble is immediately identified as H'kon's (it really couldn't be anyone else's), and she barks out towards where he might be, "Got 'er!" Whichever 'her' it is. She tries to stay out of V'ros' way *and* keep aware of the fragility of the rock about all of them. Wouldn't do to get *more* people buried, after all. From behind the wall, "Coming?" It's not a hiccup, this time. It's an echo, someone else's words. Leova dislodges her blanket. Sees dust still. Wraps the cloth about her nose, her mouth. Not her ears, but it doesn't seem to matter. Then she hiccups. From behind the wall, Ghena says, "Take your time. I'll just wait here." Coughs the bluerider again, staring at the untrustworthy ceiling. She's sitting in her corner."Yeah it's ok, I kind of like it here. All it needs is curtians." She sort of scoots in the way she's been doing, but stops when her leg protests. "Yep, just gonna wait riiiight here." She hisses." By now, Irianke has discarded K'del as a human shield, though her hand has somehow sought out and clasped his, her grip tight. Then there's Lycinea. And H'kon. That dress. And people. Two for now, but still people and one that's throwing itself at her. K'del's hand is abruptly released and the Igen goldrider is reaching to draw her assistant into a tight embrace. "Lya! Lya. Oh, child." From behind the wall, Keysi hesitates just enough at H'kon's reassurance that she finds herself walking with him, though her adamant nature still has her attention behind herself at the greenrider in the blanket. Which, gracefully, results in her tripping, staggering, but not quite managing to fall as she grabs onto H'kon's arm one last time to steady herself, with a hushed string of curses under her strained, already panting breath. The confirmation from the voices behind her, and the call of her name- was it Sky?- from the farther forward keep her moving. K'del is more than happy to squeeze Irianke's hand in return-- though he takes a hasty step back as she releases it, and as Lya throws herself at the goldrider. Amused, in that exhausted/relieved kind of way, his gaze flicks over the escapees, and then onwards towards the newly re-opened cavern. He takes a few steps forward. "Is everyone okay? Are the healers--" Of course the healers are here; here and waiting. From behind the wall, H'kon nearly winds up following Lycinea, though his path is not for Igen's laoned goldrider. "Sir," called forward to where he knows - where Arekoth knows because Cadejoth knows - the bronzerider should be. The arm for Keysi remains firm so long as she's clasping it. Perhaps even thereafter; the rest of him is tense, as well, and there's a certain urgency, being echoed by his dragon, that H'kon, at least, is trying to control. "Is there need of-" Oh, he forgot to salute. He'll use the hand that was formerly Lya's. V'ros may be slow, but he does make his way towards the familiar voice of the greenrider. "Leova," he grits, and crouches down next her. "You okay? Can you walk?" He gives her an inscrutable once-over, which becomes a mixture of repugnance and a tinge of unhappiness. "Nevermind." His one arm moves to go around her shoulders, if she'll allow, and then he holds his other steady, giving her a straightforward stare. "Ready?" It's a semi-polite way of saying he wants to pick her up and carry her to safety, regardless of whether she can on her own; he's deemed her in need of it, and that's.. something. Schuyler's attention is pulled to the vouce towards the back. "Someone back there?" he asks, pressing his way towards the back wall. Finally he spots someone on the floor. He crouches down next to Ghena, "You ready to get out of here?" he asks, looking her over. "Guessing you can't walk?" he asks her. Are they out? They're out. Rafevan sags against the wall, eyes half-closed, mouth slack. He's not being very useful to the comforting and cataloging of injuries, too busy releasing one tense breath in sudden relief. Success. H'kon heads in from Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr. From behind the wall, "Gee what gave you that idea? The giant wooden split holding my bones together?" She coughs, "You gonna stand there and look prety or help me up?" Ghena heads in from Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr. Madilla is not one of the weyr's healers, not in that sense, but that hasn't prevented her from being here-- probably nothing could have, and who is goign to argue with that? Her mouth opens as H'kon emerges, her eyes widen, but she's holding back: let her former colleagues take charge. It's enough that she's here. Within, the crafters work quickly and efficiently. They might have been running practice drills in the craft workshops all week long. Support beams, steel plates, brackets. The works. "ALL CLEAR," calls one man, the words echoed from crafter to crafter. Keysi heads in from Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr. From behind the wall, What it is, now... Leova hasn't an answer for it. She's staring at V'ros, even once she can see him, as though he's speaking nonsense or even not speaking at all. Still, she nods in abrupt reply to the stare, or the whatever, and lets him manage while getting in the way as little as possible. Her, "Ankle, careful," comes out slightly garbled, and then as they move she's coughing again. Leova heads in from Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr. Tomic goes out with the crafters, just as he went in. But in passing, he recognises two people. The two riders, whose dragons are the only one's he's ever ridden. V'ros, however, doesn't get a name. The other one: "Veylin and Varian's mom?" She's distracted. Zmeyth. Her head swings up, she's looking. Where is closest now? (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) Schuyler chuckles. "Glad you've kept your humor through all this." He glances her up and down. "Ok, we have to get out now. I'm going to carry you. Let me know if I hurt something." he slips one arm under her arms and another under her knees. "Ok...one...two..." he lifts her. "Three!" and he's headed back out of that cavern as fast as he can. Safe, safe, safe! Cadejoth's glee continues, ricocheting off walls. « They'll take her to the infirmary, » he supposes. To the dragon infirmary, if he and his have anything to do with it. (To Vrianth from Cadejoth) As those who rescue pass her, Alida takes note of their states, and keeps her senses attuned for the rock all around them. It won't do anybody - especially herself - much good if the damned placed caves in again on them while the rescue is taking place. Up she goes, V'ros managing at first not to bump her ankle needlessly, and not to drop her, which is an accomplishment! He juggles his new burden a bit to get them both situated and starts for the outside, for the light, where it's less dusty and there are healers. "You smell," he notes. Maybe it's better she can't hear him? Ghena says, "You are hurting everything." The bluerider exclaims with a string of explicitives a mile long. "Just get the damn thing over with, I want Knioth." Those streaks down her cheeks aren't tears. No not at all." Keysi finds herself in front of K'del, and detaches herself from H'kon's arm now that her feet are stable beneath her and the motion and dust and chaos has almost stopped. Light-headed, she takes a half step away from the brownrider, leaning over slightly to catch her breath, short, burning. Quicker than seems necessary, she says, "Sir." As the best 'hello' she could offer at the moment. Or could think to offer. 'how's it going' just doesn't seem to cut it right now. No more words as she struggles for a moment to get her barings, but her attention strays to survey those gathered. The many faces of the weyr. The speed of her reaction suggests he does have plenty to do with it: her lunge away and skyward and infirmary-ward. Hers. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) From behind the wall, Lycinea will stay in Irianke's embrace virtually as long as can be. She's sobbing again, but relief this time, a very different sort of crying than was going on before. She clings, her body sagging against the goldrider, and it may ultimately be easiest for Irianke to sink to the floor with her, or to at least release her grip so Lya can end up on her knees, no strength left to support herself. Lycinea heads in from Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr. "Keysi," says K'del, on an exhale, hesitating before he reaches to take the healer's arm. "Are you hurt? You're safe. We've got you now." His gaze flicks towards H'kon, then, too, regarding the brownrider for a moment before he suggests to them both, "There are stretchers-- the healers. They'll want you all." K'del adds, a little louder, for perhaps obvious reasons: "Dragon infirmary. There's a nice clean, heated pool there so you can bathe." Schuyler cringes at the swearing. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he makes his way towards the healers. "I need a stretcher!" he calls to the medics. "And she wants her dragon." he adds, realizing she won't agree to anything without that being known. Leova swears at that juggling, she hasn't lost that at least, though not at an angle to watch V'ros' face. It's not a knowing repetition of K'del, her, "Infirmary. Dragon infirmary. Vrianth." Vrianth Vrianth Vrianth. Irianke follows suite, dropping to the floor and drawing Lycinea into her lap. She shushes and hushes and pets the dirty haired girl. The smelly girl. None of it seems to bother the weyrwoman in the way she pets and cuddles her assistant to her. "Shhhh. Shh.. It's all right darling. I promised, didn't I? It's all right." The healers - whether it is because of K'del's orders or because of natural good sense given the dragonriders involved - do have stretchers, and do faithfully promise to deliver everyone to the dragon infirmary, where of course their dragons will be welcome. Truly. Keysi doesn't resist the Weyrleader's grasp on her arm. She's a bloody, smelly, panting mess, but she seems finally resolved in the fact that they're out here now. And the fact the others are out too, her grey eyes returning to him only after she'd identified the other two. She shakes her head at K'del's question, as if fine- just flesh wounds! But then adds after a beat or two "Need to sit... sir." And she suddenly seems a lot heavier in his grasp as she sways, face white. Ghena starts to protest as she's carried, but when K'del adds dragon infirmary, she calms down considerably. "I want to see Knioth." And now those streaks can't be mistaken for anything but tears as she gets loaded onto a stretcher and carried off. Ghena heads to Weyr Entrance, High Reaches Weyr. V'ros squints down at Leova, and then at the stretchers. "Sure," he mutters, bypassing the healers, in favor of taking the greenrider's instructions literally. He'll get her there, perhaps fast than the healers would, but it will be a less comfortable ride for her in the short term. To the infirmary and Vrianth they do go. Is it an order? H'kon hesitates, and then lets himself be drawn, farther toward light, air, wings. He's limping, his posture at an angle, with bandages and the smell of dried blood in his clothes. But they'll be hard pressed to get him onto those stretchers before he's met the dragon who waits for him, fluttering his wings eagerly. H'kon does see Madilla on the way, somewhere, through the haze of dragon conversation that's written over his face. He reaches for her hand, unquestioning, even in public, like this; she can come with him (and prevent his falling over) or not. K'del, thankfully, is good for something: he simply sweeps Keysi up into his arms. "Got you," he promises. "You're going to be fine. Come on: we'll get you safe." No doubt he will need to transfer her to one of the stretchers - he's not that super strong to get her across the bowl - but still. Safe. Silvery and bright trumpets ring out through the bowl, joyfully. (To local dragons from Knioth) Madilla's fingers immediately reach for H'kon's, holding tight. She's wordless, but perhaps his expression says it all: she'll come. She's here. He's safe. Edyis has arrived. Schuyler turns Ghena over to the healers and looks around. "Did we do it? Is everyone out?" he's panting slightly and dusty, but his charge is safe. With people rescued and the thriad of riders being reunited with their dragons - and the 'fuss' of Healers all about, Alida decides to withdraw from the disciplined madness all about her, the dusty blonde headed for the baths and whatever might await beyond that. She's pooped - physically and even mentally - and there's still food and drink to be consumed. The way Lycinea loses it now is so different than the way she's been losing it for the last two weeks. There's so much relief, and so much unwillingness to let go of the sudden comfort she's now afforded. In due course, it will become apparent that Lycinea cannot hear what Irianke is telling her, but that doesn't seem to matter much to her, and one can hope it's only temporary. In due course, Lya will be collected by the healers, along with Irianke's dress (don't you dare think of taking it from her now, Irianke~ It's ruined anyway), and delivered to the infirmary to have her minor injuries tended and hopefully allowed to bathe. Edyis small and oft overlooked, Edyis watches the cots and presses looking among the dirty and tired faces. When she spots the ones she was looking for, K'del assisting Keysi to one of the stretchers. "See. Told you. Weyr looks after it's own." Grinning feircely at her friend, only worry about injury preventing an actual embrace. Assurance is one thing, but it's when they're together that there's that sudden radiation from Vrianth. Then she has to sniff Leova over, and wrap quite thoroughly around her, healers or no healers. She'll take over from here. (To Cadejoth and Zmeyth from Vrianth) To Vrianth and Zmeyth, Cadejoth, quietly, withdraws. That's a job well done. It really doesn't matter what Irianke says. She's not saying anything important really. The dress, she could care less about, and it's with reluctance, she relinquishes Lya to the care of the healers and the healing powers of a bath. Schuyler turns and spots Keysi and K'del. "Keys!" he rushes over, nearly bumping into Edyis as he does so. There's an appologetic look to her, but his focus is on their mutual friends. "The healers need to look at you..." not that K'del doesn't totally have that under control. K'del, having relinquished Keysi to her healer compatriots, returns to the crafters: for them, he has quiet but effusive thanks for a job very well done. After that... it's time to go home. Perhaps he'll even get to celebrate his turnday at some point, but mostly likely? Sleep. It's been a long two sevens. Keysi doesn't lose conciousness, and murmurs a mumbled 'thank you' of some degree to the Weyrleader before he goes, after she's deposited on a stretcher. At Edyis' voice, she opens one eye to look at her, one arm protective across her chest, the other hand on her even-paler than normal head. "I'm not supposed to be on this side of the stretcher." Is her complaint. But, light hearted, at least she's back. |
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