Who I'rly, Jet, Syn, Taimri, Thys, V'sri, X'fyr
What This is why Fort can't have nice things.
When Autumn-Winter, Turn 2711
Where Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr

SyIcon14.png 10.png thysicon8.png xhanicon8.png

Fort Weyr - Weyrling Barracks
The rounded ceiling of this set of barracks is high enough to accomodate growing dragons. Lining the walls lengthwise are sets of stone couches and cots for their riders. At one end of the room are cabinets holding supplies for bathing and oiling young dragons, as well as the weyrling manuals. Against the opposite wall is a table with scraps of leather and leather-working tools. Tacked up on the wall is a diagram of riding straps.

'Happy Turnday, Leia!' That's what the surprise banner says that's been strung across the supplies cabinets towards the entrance of the barracks, in front of which there are trestle tables set up with a mini feast upon them - including, of course, cream cakes. And big bowls of punch, too - though they are obviously alcohol-free. The final touches are being made to the display as the first of the weyrlings start to trickle in from their training lesson outside, where M'icha and Am'ry are still instructing a small handful of those who require a little extra education when it comes to strap making and getting those other all-important pre-flight particulars down. Thys is there with the food display, along with handful of weyrfolk who are here to join the celebrations, and as the weyrlings begin to file in she claps in excitement. "Hello! Hello, hello - is Leia here with you yet? No? Well then - that's good. It'll be all the more a surprise, won't it? Come on in, gather round, there'll be food and punch for everyone once Leia gets in…"

V'sri is eyeballing the set-up HARD, looking the decorations over with a critical eye. Ultimately, though, a nod is given to express his positive opinion of the festivities for the lady that crab-walked, laundry-sniffed, and hair-stole his heart. "Everything looks real good, ma'am, real real good," he notes as he passes Thys, giving his requisite bow and a charming little boy grin. "She's gonna love it, I'm sure. Ooh, hey, check the banner, you guys."

Kralkth is blessedly silent, napping in the warmth of the afternoon sun after a hard morning's training. Or possibly the fact that I'rly's learned the secret to keeping him sane: working his tail off. Unfortunately, this also means her tail is worn right off, and I'rly ambles in with the group of weyrlings looking a little hazy. "Punch, you said?" The weyrling perks up, looking around at the decorations with bright amusement. "It does look good." She agrees, expression innocent. "She'll never suspect." That, or any other potential surprises hidden in her cot, either. I mean, what?

There is proof of Inri's hand in some of the setup, the decorations, even if the primary work was all Thys'; Inri is someone who can reliably be called upon to help. However, there's no actual sign of Inri here. She's been doing tours of nearby holds, and is likely distracted by that, displeased that she can't contribute more. Kouzevelth is probably keeping tabs through a few of her choice dragons for interacting with; Aycheth, Rhenesath.

Kamsyth trots in from the outside, followed by X'fyr, both having participated in the day's training. While the brown ignores the feast being laid out, his lifemate pauses to look over the preperations for Leia's turnday celebration. "Oh!" he says with a blink, jogging over to his cot and its press so that he can crouch before said press and rummage around inside. "V'sri!" Pulling out a couple of wrapped things he hands them off to the bronzerider. "I wrapped the…y'know." The things, and the stuff. H does smile though, looking back at the banner. "It's pretty awesome." A wide and lopsided grin in place.

"Ooh, yay, good. I suck so hard at wrapping things. Fortunately there's bags, but you know that she'll mostly appreciate a gift where she gets to destroy the paper on the outside and, like, put the bow on your nose or something." V'sri's arms become laden with mystery and Diqth looms his head neat to give the gifts a slightly acquisitive whirl of his eyes. "No, buddy. These are for Leia. I'll get Xhan to wrap you up something you can tear up later." He pauses, his face vague with mindtouch. "No, it isn't fair that she gets to rip up paper and you got told off for doing that, but life is like that sometimes and wrapping paper follows it's own rules." Especially when it comes to physics.

"You all did such a wonderful job of organising Inri's turnday that we couldn't help but return the favour," Thys explains when she's got a gathering of weyrlings around her. "So we'll just wait for Leia, and… I think she's with M'icha? Hrm." Not quite going to plan, but that's ok - Thys swipes a canape from the selection and begins nibbling on it. "Anyway, this is a little celebration for you all, just wrapped up in a Leia's turnday disguise. So if she's not here in… let's say 10 minutes? We'll start without her." Probably because the goldrider is hungrily eying the food.

I'rly stares mournfully at the punch bowl for several long, long moments. It's just punch, almost certainly. Just punch, with a side of nothing in the least bit alcoholic. "And here I've been a good little weyrling." She sighs, wistful, then turns a snort in Voss and Diqth's direction. "Sure it's fair. S'her turn-day, isn't it? Well," Ibby makes a face. "She did open all the presents when we were kids, but…" The brown-weyrling trails, amused, stretching massively as she shuffles closer to that table. Thys isn't the only impatient one. "Shells, but I'm starved, though. Are you sure we're waiting, Thys?" Ibby wheedles, glancing towards the doors. C'mooooon, Leia.

Some of the long-time residents of Fort probably recognize the other non-weyrling in the room (the one that isn't a goldrider). Taimri used to be a weyrbrat, now she's a Harper, and while ostensibly she's a resident of Harper Hall now it doesn't stop her from coming back to the Weyr a lot. Like now, when she's been tasked with illustrating Leia's party as well as some of the weyrling dragons in general. Some of them she knows well enough to be on good terms with, others — she's issuing friendly smiles to as she sketches. Diqth and his inspection of the presents are currently starring on the sketchbook page.

X'fyr laughs, closing the press and pushing himself to standing as soon as the last of the wrapped gifts are in muscely V'sri arms. "I know. I know. I told you I'd wrap everything, didn't I?" A look is spared to Diqth, brows lifting. "I've got yours for later, buddy. You can have it later, I promise." A pat is given to the bronze's neck, even as Kamysth comes over to investigate as well. There is much snuffling of things that are an enigma before he chuffs and wanders off again. "Oh don't you start." A long and narrowed look is given to his brown lifemate before the rest of the gathering festivities come under his attention. Brows lift at Thys before eyes slide over to I'rly and then back towards the opening leading to the training grounds, "Where is she?"

"It's Goldrider or ma'am, if you please," Thys replies to I'rly, though not unkindly. She finishes her canape, and, with a good level of hypocrisy, she gives a gentle shrug of her shoulders. "It's only polite to wait, I'rly, no matter how hungry we are. I just… had to eat something." And she looks awkward for having done so, but not in the least bit apologetic. The goldrider leans back against a cabinet, arms crossed over her plump belly. "She won't be long, I'm sure. Did any of you know it was her turnday? Did you perhaps buy her presents?"

V'sri surrounded by snuffling dragons looks much like V'sri surrounded by snuffling dogs: beaming and herp-derpy. Much like V'sri surrounded by snacks. Or his darlings. Or alcohol. He is a simple man. "Heehee, stop blowing on my armpit, you nerds! And move! I gotta put these down!" Picking his way around the curious beasties, he finds the proper spot on the tables and unloads. "Did she seriously do that, Ibs? Wait, I don't even need to ask that. Of course she did." He also manages not to sputter-laugh too hard when someone pipes in with a "YEAH, I'RLY" after Thys's corrections. His coughs are AWFULLY suspect, though.

"I just want you to know, from the bottom of my heart," I'rly manages something like a salute, although she stretches again helplessly on the end of it. Nap time, nap time. "I hate you right now, ma'am." Ibby definitely isn't hiding a grin behind lolling her head to stare wistfully at the table. Kralkth's not even awake to be a bad influence on her control, woe. "We sure did get her a present." The weyrling grins, all teeth, eyes scrunching up gleefully. It's a doozy, probably. So is the rude gesture that Ibby flings over her shoulder in Voss's direction, softened by an amused look for Kam and Diqth snuffling at him. "Every time." Ibby sighs, dramatic, eyes narrowing for the coughs. "Laugh it up, pup." BEWARE THE GRIN.

Syn is amongst the last to sneak in, suspiciously dragonless in a manner that usually means Morizanth is being a stubborn buttface and staying in the training yard, and the woman has lost patience with her dawdling. Unwilling to allow said hinted present to not be present when the turnday girl arrives, she ducks and wends past fellow weyrlings and general turnday hooplah, offering Ibby a comforting shoulder pat in commisseration for the alcohol-less punch in passing. Is it even punch when there's nothing to punch in the face when you drink it? Woe! Distracted as she is, she almost collides with poor Thys, lips flicking up into a sheepish grin. "Whoop! 'Scuse, Boss- I mean ma'am- I mean-" Huff. Hand gesture. Whoever you are. "I just need to—" And under the table she goes, legs stretched out, the very picture of 'Faranth, why' as she drags something heavy out from where it's been hidden under the table. It's… a crate. An entire crate of something that is heavy enough that the tiny woman struggles with it, head poking back out with a sigh. Squint. Squint. "Xhan. C'mere and help me with this."

"… you hate me?" Thys doesn't seem to get the humour behind that - does she look like she's about to cry?

There's an unusual hissing sound from near the entrance to the barracks… it crackles and spits, and might even go unnoticed by anyone without the hearing of a dragon, when suddenly - BOOOOOM. The caverns are rocked with an almighty explosion, which not only makes the floor tremble beneath the partiers' feet and the furniture rock dangerously, but it causes the ceiling to crack, too. BOOOOOM. Again! This time storage units tumble, the trestle tables collapse, and anyone still on their feet is knocked over - either by the unsteadiness of the floor or by the bad luck of having furniture fall on them. BOOOOOOOOOM. A third, massive shudder rips through the barracks… and that's when the ceiling collapses. Darkness falls, thick with choking dust as the entryway is completely blocked off by fallen rock, with pieces falling throughout the cavern, too - including one right into the middle of the feast. There are screams and yelps of pain in the pitch black, and from beyond the caverns the terrified keening of Rhenesath can be heard from the Hatching Sands. It's soon picked up by other dragons - and all those inside who have lifemates will no doubt feel the fear and panic through their mental bonds.

Diqth, busy as he was studying the Harper and her drawing, is far from his lifemate and emits a series of terrified and hugely loud HOOOOONKS as the realization of V'sri's trapped status hits the ambiguously bronze dragon. The *pop* and *crack* of settling debris dwindles into silence. "Bro, I'm fine. Something just hit my head. Something soft? I can't see. Oh shards oh shards oh shard oh… wait." There's a shuffling noise and a thoughtful slurping. "Uhhhh. I caught the cake."

X'fyr is there, honest, just in the background and out of the way of everyone hovering around food and presents so when Syn appears with a crate much larger and/or heavier than she has any buisness messing with he perks up at hearing his name. "Oh! Yeah! Coming!" Totally on his way over to help out his bestie there, not paying any attention to the way that Kamysth suddenly freezes in place. Seconds later, chaos and everything goes black for the human side of the pairing. Kamysth? « SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH » Panic, absolute panic.

Thys can be heard coughing, over near where the tables have fallen. There's a groan from her direction, a grunt of pain, and, while it's still dark, she can be heard clearing her throat. "Shit. Shit, shit - shit, is everyone… call out your names! Weyrlings! Report! Injury status. Now!" Her voice is trembling, but she is very clearly trying to remain calm despite the noise from Rhenesath outside of the cavern and within the heads of anyone who's listening - a constant, forge-fired panic.

"V'sri here, ma'am, and, *coff coff*, I'm sorry to say the cake is totally ruined but very, very delicious?" The Smith's voice in the gloaming is definitely losing control of its cool, the shake in his attempts at levity bobbing his consonents here and there.

There is more screeching from Kamsyth, projecting everywhere and everything dark and scary about being trapped somewhere dark and scary because not only is the brown trapped somewhere in the rubble now blocked off from everyone else but X'fyr is pinned under a big old slab of ceiling around his left shoulder region in that mess of debris and stone dust. There's blood, lots of it, from a gash on his forehead that disappears into his hairline. He'd only made it about halfway to where Syn was before the collapse, but considering he was unconscious, he can't exactly note his presense and location.

"Thys! No! I don —" She's still impertinent. Terrible. But. What's that noise? Ibby freezes. Her breathing stops, and panic ramps up; she knows that noise. « MINE! » Rage batters as, outside, Kralkth wakes from his nap to I'rly's blind panic and that first BOOM. "Syg." A bleat of terror, and Kralkth's not getting through in time for whatever's happening, and they both know it. "Syggie." BOOM. The storage cabinets tumble, and Ibby goes down, hands clamped over her neck, breath coming fast. "Down get down get —" Panic doesn't much help her voice, but she tries, even as the third thunderous crash brings the literal roof down. His lifemate's mental silence sends Kralkth into a frenzy; shaking off boulders like VTOLS, the weyrling bellows, launching himself wholesale at the crumpled side of the barracks. Words? Nope. Rage, panic, those he has in plenty. A probability of bringing more of the barracks down on him or somebody else? Maybe. I'rly is blank, though, and he's not stopping.

Syn has seen enough explosions to know where this is going. The first BOOOOOM rattles awareness through her bones, small form jolting with the first rock of the caverns. "Oh, shit. Shit shit, no, Xhan, no—" But it's too late; that second boom is echoing, and he's already moving into the open, and the brownie can probably see the panic on the blonde's face, small hand reaching out to grab him, stop him, something as eyes dart right over to I'rly. Wordless is that communication, honed over time spent in proximity, blue eyes filled with dread and horrible knowledge. The second boom casts her right off her feet, and like mad she makes for the table she'd just crawled out from under, similarly helpless to assist anyone as the world comes down on their heads - in some cases, quite literally. Syn is spared that, at least - the collapsing table brings a world of pain, a great slab of stone and debris smashing her legs an even greater one, but she is terribly, horribly, unfortunately aware enough that her response to Thys is one long shriek - one echoed by her green, which like Kralkth, realized the danger of idleness only too little too late. « SYN. SYN. » It's the only word the witch can manage, claws tearing at stone, ignoring other possible communication in an attempt to get in, get in, get in!

Taimri isn't a weyrling and doesn't have a panicking firelizard, which doesn't really help anything — she's still there and still alive, but curled up in a ball underneath something that is probably a table. The sound of V'sri's joke is the only thing that makes the girl laugh quietly, a ghost of a normal laugh.

"V'sri?!" Thys sounds panicked and relieved that there is a response - but only one. "V'sri - can you move? Faranth, where are the others? Is Diqth ok? Shit - why can't anything go right! Taimri?! Taimri! Syn! Jet! Ibby! Dii! X'fyr! Li'en! Did Leia even make it inside?" There's another grunt of pain from the goldrider, but then there is the sound of movement - of crawling, by the sounds of it, as she fumbles about on the floor, trying to find… anything. "Kamysth!" That screeching is undeniably the brown's. "Where is X'fyr?!" Her feeling around the floor finds an ankle… and she follows it upwards until she can find a hand to squeeze. Who's though, she has no idea. "We need glows. We need the glows, now. V'sri, can Diqth locate them? Can you do it with his help? Use his eyes - just like in weyrling training."

"Still alive," That's Li'en, who has found Taimri — his cousin — and joined her under the table. His lifemate makes a mental noise to indicate her continued existence, but she's not about to excitedly participate in finding glows. Diqth has a great job cut out for him. Diqth can see in the dark, right?

"Diqth's fine, if a bit…" *HOOOOOOOOONK* "Yeah, a bit honk. Gimme a sec. Okay, buddy, here we go. Stop with the blorting." V'sri sighs and releases his tension, closing his eyes against the dark and dripping frosting. Suddenly, the bronze's protestations cease. There's shuffling, a couple bonks as a tail hits a chair. Claws scrabble and, finally, endless minutes later, a creaking protest of a cabinet being opened by too-large forepaws and the crunch of baskets snagged by a long dragon tongue. "THERE! He's got 'em! Hoo, man, I can totally see in the dark, bro! Bring'em here, now, c'mon…" The 'come ons' repeat prayerlike until, finally, V'sri's face is illuminated by glowbasket from beneath. "Thanks, Diqth. You're a pal. Got 'em, ma'am!"

Darkness. Dark, dark, pain, dark. Rage, somewhere, incandescent like something exploding. Fear. I'rly twitches, not quite awake but not all the way ushered into the warm arms of blessed un-awareness. A garbled strand of nonsense — something about cake, maybe she's worried that Voss stole all the damn-sharding cake — and she slips back under, briefly. Head wounds bleed profusely, but Ibby's is smushed between the rock still precariously balanced on another and thusly not crunching her like a wherry egg. She's not going to bleed out any time soon, but it probably looks pretty hairy as the scrawny weyrling shifts, moaning a whining "Shhhhhh" of what might be awareness. That, or Kam's screeching and Kralkth's rage are loud enough to reach her in unconsciousness.

That is an excellent question. Where is X'fyr? The last thing that brownrider weyrling had seen was the look on Syn's face, and his ears filled with I'rly screaming for her and Syn screaming for him and Thys screaming in general before everything went black. Kamysth is far to busy panicking and screeching to be at all helpful in this department, and he keeps projecting the squeeze of darkness that stiffles all other thoughts other than absolute clausterphobia and pain. Oh there is pain, shooting throbbing agony, and so the brown's thoughts lack any actual language at this time. Luckily for his lifemate who isn't answering poor Thys's calls presently, he's not aware of anything at the moment, but he is breathing for anyone that happens to see him through the haze and lack of light espeically since Diqth has dug out glow baskets and brought them to V'sri.

"Oh, thank fuck. Diqth, you are amazing." Thys crawls over to the lit-up V'sri, picking up a handful of glows. They light up the fact that she's bleeding from her forehead and that there's blood on her shoulderblade and down her back where her sleeve is ripped that will be visible when she turns around, but the goldrider is clearly ignoring all of that. "Help me find everyone. We need to find everyone, now. Stay low. Be careful." She crawls back to the anonymous person she just left behind - and it's Jet. A gentle patting of the girl's cheek helps to rouse her, and Thys gasps in relief. "Lie still. Don't move. You've hurt your head - I'll find you something in a moment. Just don't move, ok?" With glows in her hand, she crawls off again. "Syn! Ibby! X'fyr! Where are you?"

Diqth *is* AMAZING! He's so excited that he frisks around in a circle like a puppy. V'sri, however, is in full on RESCUE MODE, using a combination of shaking terror and brute strength to move aside tables and chairs to clear his path. "Y'all need to speak up now. Diqth, calm down and gimme your head so you can hold this up high." The light sourcing shifts uncontrollably as the glow basket is switched to Diqth's maw again and held aloft. "Xhan? Where you at? Ibs? It's all over, you're safe now. If someone else's upright, maybe we can get some pillows and stuff together if… oh, JEEZ Jet…" There's rapid mouth breathing for a moment, but NO SPEW from Vis. "Okay. Alright. Um. Diqth, talk to your brothers and sisters."
"I can help." At that point, with some light arrived, the young Harper stands up to look over at the weyrwoman — after sending a BIG 'thank you' grin toward Diqth. "I know how to take care of head injuries, I've had to do it a lot." Taimri, an extra set of hands in the infirmary from a young age. "Is she bleeding? I'll get water, too —" not that Taimri knows where to find water in the weyrling barracks, exactly, er, but she'll try.

Syn's sanity attempts to assert itself - truly, it does. Initial panicked screeching ebbs into heaving sobs, pain and terror almost sending her right back into hyperventilation, but there are voices and dragons and her legs are on fire and there's the sound of wooden groans and small rocks tumbling as the weyrling tries to at least raise her upper body and assess— But a sharp cry later and she's down again, fighting renewed hysteria to finally reply. "Here." Louder: "HERE." And finally she sees through red haze, tries to shift again, concerns moving from herself to others as Ibby's hissing and Xhan's plethora of too much silence oh Faranth sends her into a whole different sort of fit. She, too, shouts for I'rly, X'fyr, Leia, all the same names said over, choking out a strangled, "Voss, do you see them?! Help them." That last bit might be for Taimri, perhaps, but fresh agony cuts off further words, head buried in hands to issue quiet sobs.

"That's good, V'sri, have him talk to them…" Thys is finding it hard to think, what with Kamysth screeching, Rhenesath panic-chattering in her head, and the overall overwhelming situation they're in. "Oh, Taimri - that's fantastic. There's water towards the back of the barracks, where the pools are - be careful. Go slowly. You'll find buckets there, too - bring lots of water." Syn - she hears Syn, and the goldrider makes her way over towards the greenrider weyrling. "Syg- Syn. Syn! Oh, Faranth, are you… shit. Ok, be still. Where does it hurt? We're finding the others - Leia is outside." She reaches out to illuminate the younger girl's face with her handful of glows, and reaches out a trembling hand in what's meant to be a soothing stroke across her cheek. "Tell me where it hurts."

Kamysth apparently had lots of stored up energy for struggling and screeching in fear and pain wherever he ended up but there is the sound of stone scrapping against stone somehere in the background where he had been before everything came crashing down around them. It's not much but its something for anyone paying attention or looking for those still not found. Even with Thys, Syn and V'sri calling out for Xhan though, its met with an eerie silence and then a very soft breathy groan.

Taimri's water-hauling and bandage-fussing reaches Jet, first, and she disappears into the silence of soothing the downed greenrider, her focus wrapped around Jet entirely until she's reassured the weyrling greenrider won't try to stand (in part because she probably can't) and watchful eyes, including her own, will prevent her from passing out. That's when she goes looking for the others: where's I'rly, whose voice she could sort of hear? What does she need?
"I'rly need some fellis." That's muffled by the rock helpfully keeping the entire ceiling from falling on her, but also pinning Ibby's head and shoulders just hard enough that she can't yet muster herself to move. She's here. She's…alive, definitely. She's also shaking like a leaf, breath coming in rapid bursts. "Settle for some whiskey." The brown-weyrling whispers into her stony friend's face, but it's not receptive. Whatever. "Cake." Not a good bargaining technique. Not going to work. Does she remember the ceiling falling down? Mmmmaaaybe. Judging by the lack of complete panic, though, the whole thing might not have caught up to the weyrling yet. "Hello? Cake?" Yes, Taimri. Syn. Somebody. Bring the whiskeyfelliscake.

Poor Thys, Syn receives her less with relief and dignity and much more with rising hysteria. Blue eyes are panic-wide in her glowlight, breathing picking up fast, too fast, as the weyrling tries to grab Thys's hand out of sheer need for physical reassurance. Yet: "No, no no no, leave me, find Ibby. Find Xhan. Find L-" Leia is outside. The words break something in the usually-proud woman's spirit, eyes welling up as she tries to look that way. "No, no, she needs me, she NEEDS—" Too far, she's turned too far, agony blanching whatever color can be seen on her face beneath dust and grime. Choked sobbing resumes, and finally she actually answers Thys. "My legs." Which are not hopelessly trapped, thank Faranth, but judging from the angle of the slab of stone resting upon them, they definitely caught the blunt end of a hard fall, and not at all kindly judging by the way her head drops so she can make choking noises that might be relief for hearing I'rly's voice in the gloom, renewed sobs, or perhaps- "One of'm might be broke. Hurts. Gonna hurl. Fuck. Shit. Mori's freaking. My head." She finally lets go to press hands to her temples. "Boss, you gotta find-" Shudder. "Find them." Because she's clearly not going anywhere, and with panic setting back in she might soon be useless for answering questions anyways.

"Syn - Syn! Syn, relax, we're finding everyone. I'm here. Relax. We're getting everything we need…" It's an exaggeration. Thys can only hope they're getting the supplies she's requesting through Rhenesath, because so far… well, nothing has turned up. "Breathe. Breathe with me, Syn - in," she inhales, "and out." Exhale. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. She squeezes the greenrider's hand tightly, pressing her palm to the girl's cheek. "V'sri! Taimiri! Find X'fyr. Get I'rly some water - she's over that way, I think." Glows are waved in the direction of one brownrider… though where the other is is still unknown.

"The cake got kind of … squished," Taimri tells the fallen I'rly gently, now that she's found her; she is kind enough not to insinuate that V'sri at eall of it. "We can try to dig you up a piece of any of it's still edible," the bronzerider said it was good, after all. "Working on getting fellis while we also work on getting you not-in-here." Any smaller rocks the girl can move have been moved, or are being moved; she presses her eyes shut to try to tune out Syn's panic at being separated from, presumably, her dragon. "I have a drink for you as soon as we can get your head up." Taimri's firelizard blinks in and sets toward the job of trying to find X'fyr.

Speaking of firelizards: supplies to the rescue. Two bronzes — Inri's Liechten, carrying bandages and a little bit of numbweed, along with Zhirayr's Molonlabe and a basket of fellis held between his claws — and a small green, Inri's Lyonette with the rest of the numbweed, blink in from between and head straight to Thys, having been given solid directions on who is handling the damage control.

That's all there is really, just that single barely there groan thing from over there about four or five feet away from where Syn is in the gloom of the darkened rubble mess. There is another sound of stone scrapping against stone on the opposite side from that, Kamysth finally emerging though the haze into the soft light produced by the glows. The panic is still there and the pain, but the screeching is down to dull roar as the brown tries to keep the slightly unnatural bend of one wing close to his body as he attempts to get to where X'fyr is. Images flash inbetween the projections of darkness intermingles with pain. A slab of ceiling. Syn and Thys. A single leg sticking out from behind the slab. A single leg wearing Xhan's pants. Leg. Leg. Leg.

V'sri pops up from behind a pile of debris and points at Taimri with some sort of wooden pole. "That's IT! Lemme get Deathwing. She hangs out with Xhan's brown constantly. C'mon, lil' girl." With a swirl of cold air, the oddly named green appears and lands on the stick the bronzer brandishes. "Find our dude. The one that gives you the treats when he thinks I ain't paying attention." With an amiable little -brrt-, Deathwing takes to her death wings? and circles around the room, poking the wee triangle of her head into various places. Squawking, she hops around a certain area, flapping her wings and burping out the teeniest little flame in triumph and babbles in Kamsyth's general direction. "You got him? Maybe? Okay, baby, I'm comin' to rescue you." And so, covered in frosting and dirt, V'sri begins to shove his way through the cavern as MANFULLY AS POSSIBLE.

That's Syn. That's Syn, and she's scared, and — it hits I'rly suddenly, the why of the situation. Trapped. Trapped, trapped, and not everybody is talking, and. Oh. Faranth. "SYGNI. SY—" THUMP. I'rly's legs stop jerking impatiently for a moment, their owner having apparently slipped back into the loving arms of unconsciousness briefly. Whacking your head in the tiny wiggle room against the rock holding you captive: not bright. She doesn't stay down long, though, since a thin noise of disappointment meets the news of the cake. "Whiskey?" The brown-weyrling wheezes hopefully, sounding a little worse for the wear as she starts to wiggle, slow and careful now, out of her rocky prison. "Voss? Xhan? Wha…Li'en? Dii? Where's. Oh, Faranth, my head." Ibby rattles off, chest scraping on the rock as she worms her way out. She'll get there eventually. Hopefully without those rocks shifting much. Precaaarious.

"It's a reasonable request, they should make an exception to the alcohol rule." Taimri is going to try her darndest to argue some whiskey for I'rly out of Thys if by some miracle they can get any back there. Once Deathwing (who is his clutchsister) has the X'fyr situation under control, Taimri's large-for-a-blue is helping her try to get smaller stones out of position so that the brown weyrling can inch her way around them. "You're doing a good job," young Harper encourages, "And the fellis just got here."

Thys sees Kamysth. She sees his wing. She goes even paler - and hopefully Syn won't see that. "Oh. Oh, oh, Kamysth - oh Faranth, I'm coming." Why doesn't Pern have cloning abilities yet? There are too many places Thys needs to be in - and thank Faranth for the firelizards. "Thank you," she says as she takes their burdens from them, settling the numbweed and the fellis down on the ground. "Measures. Shit. I can't remember. Ok. Syn… here." The goldrider pours a measure into the cap of the fellis bottle, holding it up to Syn's lips. "Drink. I have to go help X'fyr and Kamysth, and this will help you. It's fellis." She's pushy in pressing the dose to the weyrling's lips, and will only leave once it's been drunk. She'll even kiss Syn's forehead briefly before scrambling away and to Kamysth, and to X'fyr's leg. "V'sri! Here! Now!" Thys drops to her knees, bending down to hold the glows up underneath the slab where the brownrider is pinned. "Taimri - take the fellis and the numbweed that Ibby needs - two capfuls. That's it. No more than two capfuls of fellis." This is all spoken as she tries to assess X'fyr's situation… which is followed by the goldrider rushing right on in to try and hoist the slab off him herself. She cries out in pain from the effort, dropping down onto her butt and clutching at her belly. "V'sri? Li'en?"

Li'en is on the job, leaving his own scratched-up green — who isn't the kind of seriously injured where he can't leave her side — to help Thys move the slab of rock. "Careful, weyrwoman, straining's bad for the babe." This greenrider was going to be an obstetrician once, which is what you get for being the Weyrhealer's nephew. "Which isn't saying, ma'am, that you can't lift at all, just all about balance." Never tell a woman what she can't do! Whether or not she intends on keeping that pregnancy. The one he's just kind of assumed.

"Coming, ma'am, don't you lift that. I got it." And V'sri does, his upper body flexing like a group of guinea pigs fighting over lettuce as he power-lifts the rock in question. "C'monnnnn… C'MOOON!" And, with a long scrape, it comes loose and gets tossed aside. BOOM! MAN-LY motherbitches. "Xhan? You in there, hon?"

There's Syn's laughter, crazed and clipped with an ever-so-delightful edge of that pain and panic laced through. "Relax." Doesn't seem likely - if anything, she breathes harder, hands pressing in in in against her temples, shoulders heaving, rocking, like she might actually puke this time. She does try to breathe, though, exhaggerated and loud to let the goldrider know an attempt is being made— "IBBY." There goes any good that did, alarmed by her cousin's panic, doubly so by the ensuing thump and silence and really she wasn't cut out for this, for the hysteria in her mind and Morizanth's both, I'rly's jokes lost in another wash of head-pressing quiet choked sounds. "It's okay, it's okay, it's—" It's firelizards and fellis and alas, Syn is not nearly distracted enough to miss those, nor Kamysth's projections. "Fuck," Syn whispers on repeat, and she almost refuses that fellis but Thys lingers when she couldn't and Syn makes a hard choice, taking the dose and the forehead-kiss that follows before dropping her head to let those more capable do the things she wishes she could. She's just gonna check back out to focus on the now-pacing Mori and on trying not to wretch up the fellis before it can work.

"Can she have whiskey?" Taimri asks, semi-rhetorical, to Thys as she obtains I'rly's fellis dose and some numbweed for her head, not waiting for an answer before making her way around the stones and trying to get back to the brownrider. She's had enough dance classes now that her careful toe-step is fairly advantageous, unfortunate as it is. A moment is given to scritch at Molonlabe's eyeridges, letting him see that she's just got abrasions around her face and arms, nothing serious, and whispers, "I'm fine. Go," before extending water-cup and fellis-cup to I'rly. "Here, try these. Not alcoholic, unfortunately."

"How did you…" Thys blinks at Li'en, then shakes her head at him - hopefully he'll understand that it's not something to discuss now. "I pulled something. Maybe. That's all." She lends her strength to that of the boys' as they lift, and when she can see they've got it under control she lets go and ducks under to X'fyr. "We've got you," she murmurs, whether he can hear or not; and despite the risks of it she pulls him free so V'sri and Li'en can lower the slab once more. "X'fyr. Xhan. Yes, Taimri, she can if you can find it, but it's either that or fellis. X'fyr? Someone get me water, now!"

Li'en is magic. Or, rather, really observant and focused on his specific skills. And also silent on the matter!

It was like finding Waldo, if Waldo was a brownrider weyrling pinned beneath a chunk of collapsed ceiling and bleeding from a nice gash to the head. X'fyr was still not conscious despite the very rare groan, and Kamysth was like an unstoppable projection machine of panic, darknes, and pain. The young brown was doing his best to get through all the rubble and people and things flying about and the second he gets to his lifemate he puts his head against the slab and starts to push as Thys and V'sri are pushing and HHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEAAAAVVVVEEEEEEE, khathunk! FREEDOM. Oh. Oh yeah. That. That is a very dislocated shoulder there. The joint is at a very odd angle and all the voices nearby start to get louder and there is pain. Lots of pain. Brows furrow, mouth forms a frown, and there is another groan as the pain from both dragon and himself starts to work itsef into his brain. He's being lifted though by Thys and he hears her and V'sri calling for him, and Syn's laughter boarding on manical and he can feel Kamysth and so all he can really do is open his mouth to release a very loud sound of pain, shared. His and Kamysth's, and his eyes fly open if only to slam closed once again.

Either Kralkth is shielding her, or just too damn loud for I'rly to catch most of what's happening around her, dragon-wise. Working her chin enough that she can ease out of her rocky near-coffin, the weyrling sits up — aaaand leans over, barfing loudly into the now-abdonded hollow. "Oh, shells. Sharding wherasstits." She groans, swaying, wound opened again to bleed sluggishly from temple to somewhere behind her ear. Blinking owlishly in the dim light, Ibby sniffs, absently wiping her mouth and staring at Taimri. "You're…here." She mumbles, looking lost, but accepting the water and fellis obediently. "Or I'm hallucinating." That's a consideration, but a 'hall brat hallucination? That's new. Handing the cups back, Ibby leans on her rock, looking dazed. "What's. Syggie? You're…?" She can't even manage to finish the sentence, hopeful and wary at the same time as she tries to open her eyes and squint far enough into the darkness to take stock of the others.

Helpfully, Taimri supplies, "I'm real, and you're not hallucinating yet." The fellis is probably going to induce some of that eventually, or maybe just pain relief and sleep. She's no healer, but she has just enough sense from her mother's training to be hunting out if I'rly has any wounds that need a heavy hand of numbweed; otherwise, she's just going to leave it available if needed. Her blue is cruising around to see if there's anything else he can do anywhere else, along with Inri's duo of lizards.

"Okay okay, he's out. Xhan? Babe?" Drawing quickly to the lifted Xhan's side, V'sri places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "Babe, you're fine, you're gonna be cool, bro." Babe bro. Brobe? "I gotta go help some other people, but yell if you need me to come back, okay?" Another few pats and he's off again. "Okay, what next? Do I get Ibs some cake from what's left of what hit my head? Where should I lift a thing?"

"V'sri," Thys says quietly, kneeling beside X'fyr. Her eyes are closed, and the blood from her own head wound is caked thick with dust. "We need a splint for Kamysth. We need water, fellis, numbweed. I need… I need you to help… to help sort this out. Please." She sounds woozy as she moves herself around to X'fyr's dislocated arm, getting herself into position to pull it back into place. That just shows off how badly her back has been bleeding too, where her shirt is torn and reveals a deep gash in her shoulderblade. "Splints for… for Syn. For I'rly, for… Kamysth. Numbweed now. Please?" She looks at the young bronzerider with pleading eyes, and then her attention is on X'fyr. "I'm sorry," she murmurs before yanking his arm to pop it back into the socket. Then? Then Thys wobbles, eyes fluttering - and she has to quickly reach out a hand to steady herself from falling over.

It's a shame Syn's checked her sanity at the door - any other day she would have a healthy appreciation for Taimri's wit in the face of trauma, Li'en and V'sri's stability, Thys's admirable leadership— but alas. Her mind is with Morizanth, who shares as much as agitates and those are Syn's fingers gripping at the roots of her hair, sobs renewed, entire body shaking, jerking, painfully aware of so much and so little at once. "No, no, no no no…" And on she goes, 'no's interspersed with swearing and names that slowly grow quieter, cutting off only for Ibby's use of her name, for the sound of stone returning to stone from X'fyr's position. There comes a whimpered, "Ibs," and a stretch of her hand in that direction, but also a twist to try to see through the gloom towards the brownriding weyrling as he finally makes a noise audible enough for her to hear. "Faranth," she breathes, one part relief, one part alarm for what might have been the sound of stumbling gentled by the onset of fellis, brow wrinkling before she keens quietly and fights to stay alert.

"How do I get those, ma'am?" V'sri asks, spreading his fingers. The faint light reveals the expression of confusion on his dirty face. "We can't get out. How do I get us out? Please, please, just whatever you need, tell me. Should I send out some firelizards with, like… a note? I can get some paper and maybe-kinda summon someone with that stuff? Though, like, I could pop off some table legs and make some splints, yeah, with sheets and stuff all tore into strips."

X'fyr coughs a few times, each one accented by another groan of pain as V'sri is suddenly there. He can hear him. "The…fuck…" he starts, coughing again and groaning again. "Shoulder." Cough. Groan. "Ow." Very slowly he opens his eyes and getting a visual field of worried bronzerider first and foremost. "…hello darling." He tries to laugh, but it's cut off by another long groan. Breathing. Breathing. "I love you. I do." Cough. Cough. Wheeze. Groan. "Go, I'm good." Luckily it was the not dislocated shoulder that was being squeeze but the other one, so it pretty much was all good and he tosses the other male weyrling a thumbs up before he's patted and V'sri heads off to help I'rly. Then he gets a gander of Thys, offering her a strained lopsided grin, "Oh hey!" He blinks a few times as there are words being spoken and he's being moved and apologized to? "That…kinda…" Hurts? Yes, yes it does. "Kam. Kam. Calm down…really I'm…" That's about when Thys is popping his shoulder back into place and the cavern fills with his blood curdling scream for about four or five seconds before it melts into uncontrollable sobs. Kamsyth was hovering this entire time, trying to get to X'fyr, the darkness of his thought now a forest completely engulfed in flame still nursing his bend wing. « X'fyr!! » Just a single thing, and then croons soft and worried. Lots of nosing against Thys and Xhan.

I'rly's expression goes distant for a moment, and then she pales further, a strangled noise like somebody's tearing something out of her bubbling up. "Leia." She mumbles, restless, looking very much like she'd like to puke. No, no, mustn't hurl the painkillers, and the water's precious too. Nonsensical babbling dries up — Leia'll know they're fine soon enough, and. "Oh. Good." Weakly, I'rly nods, squinting thoughtfully at the younger harper before finally cottoning on. Numbweed. "No. No, s'fine. Doesn't hurt yet." She mumbles, ignoring the ugly mess of dust and half-dried blood. "I think. I think Xhan or Syn might need that, Taimri." Clearer, that, as Ibby starts scooting towards the latter as quickly as she can. At least she's not going for Voss and his traiterous taking of all of the cake, vengeance in mind. RUDE. "We got you, Syggie. S'kay. It only fell lots." Slurred not from fellis yet, Ibby's still mumbling when she reaches the shorter, more injured weyrling, eyes wide. They go wider, taking in Thys's wobbling with a sketchy, wincing kind of finger-jab. "Thys!" She waves a hand, alarmed.

There is Kamysth nosing her, and Thys rests a hand against the brown to hopefully soothe him. Her other hand rests on X'fyr - lightly, but unsteadily as she sways. "V'sri, have Diqth bespeak Kayeth and Kouzevelth. Tell them what we need. Find things in here - break a damned door if you have to. I need… I need you to… you're in charge, V'sri. Keep talking with Kayeth and Kouzevelth and Velokraeth and… and have Diqth tell Akleteyth I'm… I'm…" She sways again, eyes fluttering, hand clutching tightly at X'fyr's shirt to try and steady herself. "Fellis. For everyone who needs it. Two capfuls. Let them sl- let them sleep." She manages to steady herself, then looks at the bronzerider. "I'm going to pass out. You'll be… you'll be fine." Then her eyes roll and close, and Thys tumbles forward over X'fyr, faceplanting the debris. Yay for black eyes!

Thys isn't the only one going down for the count. Syn's relief for hearing voices - Ibby's voice, Xhan's voice, finally - snaps what little resolve she has for fighting against the fellis. Succumbing to numbness suddenly seems so much nicer than this, the searing pain in her legs, fear redoubled in her mind by her separated dragon, by the images said dragon is feeding of the world beyond and she just can't anymore. Head collapsing into her hands, she finally whimpers herself into dark oblivion.

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