"Has anyone ever told you that you might need better friends?" She uses her wrists to push the frizz of her hair back from her temples, trying not to sweep too much grit from her fingers to her face, and is getting all ready to consider the possibility of standing up again when--
"You know, the Alliance had pretty good survivalist training. I can probably figure out how to keep myself dry on a potentially hostile alien planet." She looks after the stick in his hand. No. 'Wand.' "Unless you've got a spa in there. I could go for a hot soak and some cucumbers on my eyelids right about now."
Severus just tilts his head, because lol friends. In his opinion he doesn't have any (somewhere Charles Xavier suddenly feels like strangling him), and that's a silly observation. Moving along.
"I expect you have the best survivalist training of anyone here, actually," he says, "which is my point. We've got a limited window of time before people begin to panic or wander off to their deaths or both, or-- Merlin knows what wanders out of the bloody trees to eat everyone. You are going to be absolutely essential. You need a once-over from a medic, rest, and to be situated somewhere centralized."
Hopefully she didn't think he was over here out of sentimentality.
Most of the ship's passengers were people who had at some point been used to living in apartments or houses or who worked day jobs or who suffered trauma that fell slightly higher on the whole hierarchy of needs than 'food, shelter, water.' The rest of them - the ones who might know a thing or two - have been working in the ship's framework for so long that jumping to it isn't exactly instinctive.
What the hell is she doing sitting around on a rock? Tyke had general security on the ship as in hand as was possible, but did she know even the first thing about not dying in the wilderness?
For a split second, Shepard almost looks abashed. Then she stands and dusts herself off. "A better start would be to get a fire going and rig up something to keep us from getting soaked. I'll bet on some debris from the crash. I'll get a couple of guys to help me haul back any spare sheeting and we can rig something up." She's rolling up her sleeves. Congrats, Severus, you've created a monster. "Can you or anyone you know make a fire without fuel? I don't trust the smoke coming off these plants not to poison us if we start razing the jungle."
It's the monster he was angling for, so this works out just fine. There's no judgment about that fleeting look, and it's not like he'd begrudge her taking a minute to collect herself anyway. They do need to get a move on with everything, though, and he figures she'd be pissed at him in days coming if he kept working and didn't come get her up.
"Fire isn't a problem. If you'd like to acquisition the materials I can sort out a freestanding structure - I'm leery of pitching against any of the rock faces or the shell of the ship, honestly, we don't know what the jump drive's going to do in thirty days, if the 'computer' that runs it understands it's no longer in space. Power's still bloody on in there, somehow."
Edited (accidentally a word) 2017-03-29 22:13 (UTC)
There's a strong possibility that in thirty days whatever is happening with the ship is going to somehow vaporize them no matter where they are in the planet. The paranoid, reactionary part of her is almost positive that if the ship tries to jump, it'll generate some kind of black hole in its wake and what the hell are they supposed to do to avoid getting pulverized by something like that?
But all things considered, it's a small part of herself and easy enough to ignore in the moment. "It's a plan. Get that fire going, I'll see what I can haul back. Who knows how long this rain's going to last." The urge to call it a loss and just wait out the night is heavy - get a little sleep and then do what they can in the morning by light -, but who knows what the day-night cycle on this planet is. For all she knows, it'll be eighty hours before they see the sun again.
"I'll be right back." And then she's off, cutting out after a few familiar, we'll trusted silhouettes in the darkness and then out toward the groaning wreck suspended out across the cliff's edge.
It takes maybe an hour, maybe forty minutes, before she makes it back to him with a stack of twisted sheeting and a spool of cabling. The rain's coming down harder now, big fat droplets piercing through the canopy of trees to make the footing slick and unreliable even among the roots of the overgrown flora. He looks like a drowned rat, she thinks. It's not a very charitable thought, really, but most of the passengers are just as bedraggled. It's not just him.
Shepard dumps the cabling at Severus's feet, hands raw from the prickly exterior synthetic casing. "Good news - if the rain keeps up, I doubt we'll have to worry about being so close to the ship." Maybe the cliff's edge will just wash out from under it and the whole thing will be scraping off into the valley below. Wouldn't that be nice?
Nevermind that it's their only reliable source of food right now.
Anyway. Severus is by himself, and it looks deceptively like he hasn't been doing anything, at first - but the area's cleared out, and the ground's unnaturally flat. He gave up on enlisting anyone or offering heat or light sources due to certain conflicting personalities refusing to deal with him, but that's not a surprise. Let Black and the rest of the incompetent security team turn their nose up at him, they can go bloody drown standing in place as far as he's concerned.
"We'll just have to worry about a massive landslide," he deadpans.
Thanks, Severus, that's real optimistic and helpful. Anyway, he looks at the materials and then points across the clearing he's made. "I'll need a piece of the sheeting at each 'corner' of something roughly like a rectangle," he says, presumably to her gophers. Meanwhile: he picks the cable up and separates it into several small lengths, then sets them aside. For now. Once the metal plates are set up he paces around the area to look and visualize - he's not a bloody architect and trying to make a blasted tent for Princess Nuala with Teller had been a comedy of errors at best - but, alright, this will Be Fine.
Silent, he points his wand towards the middle of the laid-out metal sheets. They warp, stretch, connect, and form into one large piece with even edges. He twitches his hand and the whole thing rises up in the air to about eye-level, and Severus tilts his head, considering, as the thing shifts and ripples, lines and grooves appearing and re-appearing at different angles, until he gets something that water won't pool on. The whole of it is roughly the span of a house (or, idk, more than a house, it's not small, mumblemumble howevermuch material was scavenged, it's stretched out and expanded magically). Not large enough to shelter everyone at once with comfortable elbow room, but it'll be tolerable for current emergency purposes. Satisfied with that he lets it float upward at a reasonable ceiling-height, and then wordlessly summons the pieces of cable. Taking those, he walks the perimeter and drops each piece on the ground in measured places. Once he's done he stares at one and mutters something unintelligible until it cooperates and shifts, expands, rises, becoming a kind of organic-metal pillar that stretches up and attaches to the floating roof. That spell devised, he enchants the rest of them. And lo: a structure.
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no subject
"You know, the Alliance had pretty good survivalist training. I can probably figure out how to keep myself dry on a potentially hostile alien planet." She looks after the stick in his hand. No. 'Wand.' "Unless you've got a spa in there. I could go for a hot soak and some cucumbers on my eyelids right about now."
no subject
"I expect you have the best survivalist training of anyone here, actually," he says, "which is my point. We've got a limited window of time before people begin to panic or wander off to their deaths or both, or-- Merlin knows what wanders out of the bloody trees to eat everyone. You are going to be absolutely essential. You need a once-over from a medic, rest, and to be situated somewhere centralized."
Hopefully she didn't think he was over here out of sentimentality.
no subject
Most of the ship's passengers were people who had at some point been used to living in apartments or houses or who worked day jobs or who suffered trauma that fell slightly higher on the whole hierarchy of needs than 'food, shelter, water.' The rest of them - the ones who might know a thing or two - have been working in the ship's framework for so long that jumping to it isn't exactly instinctive.
What the hell is she doing sitting around on a rock? Tyke had general security on the ship as in hand as was possible, but did she know even the first thing about not dying in the wilderness?
For a split second, Shepard almost looks abashed. Then she stands and dusts herself off. "A better start would be to get a fire going and rig up something to keep us from getting soaked. I'll bet on some debris from the crash. I'll get a couple of guys to help me haul back any spare sheeting and we can rig something up." She's rolling up her sleeves. Congrats, Severus, you've created a monster. "Can you or anyone you know make a fire without fuel? I don't trust the smoke coming off these plants not to poison us if we start razing the jungle."
no subject
"Fire isn't a problem. If you'd like to acquisition the materials I can sort out a freestanding structure - I'm leery of pitching against any of the rock faces or the shell of the ship, honestly, we don't know what the jump drive's going to do in thirty days, if the 'computer' that runs it understands it's no longer in space. Power's still bloody on in there, somehow."
no subject
But all things considered, it's a small part of herself and easy enough to ignore in the moment. "It's a plan. Get that fire going, I'll see what I can haul back. Who knows how long this rain's going to last." The urge to call it a loss and just wait out the night is heavy - get a little sleep and then do what they can in the morning by light -, but who knows what the day-night cycle on this planet is. For all she knows, it'll be eighty hours before they see the sun again.
"I'll be right back." And then she's off, cutting out after a few familiar, we'll trusted silhouettes in the darkness and then out toward the groaning wreck suspended out across the cliff's edge.
It takes maybe an hour, maybe forty minutes, before she makes it back to him with a stack of twisted sheeting and a spool of cabling. The rain's coming down harder now, big fat droplets piercing through the canopy of trees to make the footing slick and unreliable even among the roots of the overgrown flora. He looks like a drowned rat, she thinks. It's not a very charitable thought, really, but most of the passengers are just as bedraggled. It's not just him.
Shepard dumps the cabling at Severus's feet, hands raw from the prickly exterior synthetic casing. "Good news - if the rain keeps up, I doubt we'll have to worry about being so close to the ship." Maybe the cliff's edge will just wash out from under it and the whole thing will be scraping off into the valley below. Wouldn't that be nice?
Nevermind that it's their only reliable source of food right now.
no subject
Anyway. Severus is by himself, and it looks deceptively like he hasn't been doing anything, at first - but the area's cleared out, and the ground's unnaturally flat. He gave up on enlisting anyone or offering heat or light sources due to certain conflicting personalities refusing to deal with him, but that's not a surprise. Let Black and the rest of the incompetent security team turn their nose up at him, they can go bloody drown standing in place as far as he's concerned.
"We'll just have to worry about a massive landslide," he deadpans.
Thanks, Severus, that's real optimistic and helpful. Anyway, he looks at the materials and then points across the clearing he's made. "I'll need a piece of the sheeting at each 'corner' of something roughly like a rectangle," he says, presumably to her gophers. Meanwhile: he picks the cable up and separates it into several small lengths, then sets them aside. For now. Once the metal plates are set up he paces around the area to look and visualize - he's not a bloody architect and trying to make a blasted tent for Princess Nuala with Teller had been a comedy of errors at best - but, alright, this will Be Fine.
Silent, he points his wand towards the middle of the laid-out metal sheets. They warp, stretch, connect, and form into one large piece with even edges. He twitches his hand and the whole thing rises up in the air to about eye-level, and Severus tilts his head, considering, as the thing shifts and ripples, lines and grooves appearing and re-appearing at different angles, until he gets something that water won't pool on. The whole of it is roughly the span of a house (or, idk, more than a house, it's not small, mumblemumble howevermuch material was scavenged, it's stretched out and expanded magically). Not large enough to shelter everyone at once with comfortable elbow room, but it'll be tolerable for current emergency purposes. Satisfied with that he lets it float upward at a reasonable ceiling-height, and then wordlessly summons the pieces of cable. Taking those, he walks the perimeter and drops each piece on the ground in measured places. Once he's done he stares at one and mutters something unintelligible until it cooperates and shifts, expands, rises, becoming a kind of organic-metal pillar that stretches up and attaches to the floating roof. That spell devised, he enchants the rest of them. And lo: a structure.