sixthiterationlogs | It Comes Crashing Down

Entry tags:

It Comes Crashing Down

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Bungalows #58, #4
WHEN: Feb 12th
OPEN TO: Logan, All
WARNINGS: Injuries, the fallout from being struck by lightening
STATUS: Open during the aftermath

I. [Closed to Logan]

Despite the danger of the lightening storm, there were some things that required Margaery to venture from her home. She was careful to keep the animals indoors, but needed to feed them and look after her pregnant cow. It was only after ensuring that her animals were safe that she returned home to weave and sew. She could at least do these chores safely inside. The growing number of injuries and damage to homes had made her wary, enough that she took care with what would pull her outside.

Seeing Logan was likely unwise, but she had wanted to make a gift of a blanket to him. Her weaving had improved and she had hoped to show him her latest creation. It was a flimsy reason to visit him, but one that encouraged her to step outside.

As she neared Bungalow 58, she could feel a tension appear in the air. There was a buzzing against her ear, a small crackle that disturbed the otherwise quiet day. Her body felt as though it were tingling, her hair suddenly standing on end. She hurried her steps, feeling her heart skip a beat. His steps were so near, only a few feet away. But before she could reach safety, there was a sudden CRACK and she collapsed to the ground. Her body felt as though it were on fire, sending her back to the moment that the Sept had erupted in a green light. Sound disappeared; she knew that she had screamed but couldn't hear herself. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, leaving her struggling for breath.

There was someone beside her but she couldn't see, only a vague outline of a figure.

II. [Open]

She had been seen and received treatment. While the injuries were minor, her mind still whirred, raising anxiety in her. The burns hadn't been severe, but they left her trembling and afraid. She kept her mind from drifting back to Westeros, focused on every small detail of her room. The feel of her mattress beneath her, the cold in the air and the sound of the bungalow settling.

It took a great deal for her to remain in bed. Gilbert rested at her side, his soft fur a sweet balm to her burned skin. Finally her heart had settled in her chest and she could breathe once more. Her eyes trailed over her room, bored and restless.

She wouldn't remain in bed for long, not if she had her way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The ongoing lightning strikes are making Nerys more than a little wary about going out of the house--and hells, equally wary about staying in the house, when she hears a few more stories. But the Inn has more food than what she can scavenge and keep around the bungalow, and it's cooked better too. Nerys had forgotten, living on DS9, that she has a tendency to draw in on herself, in winter. It was always a horrible time of further privation in the camp, and that continues to color her opinion to this day.

She's horrified, though, to hear that Margaery's also been hit by lightning; it leaves her at a loss for a long hour or two, uncertain what she can do about the situation. Going to the room she's using as a cold cupboard, she finds the cauldron of chocolate that she and Veronica had pilfered months ago, frozen solid. Letting a few pieces thaw, she puts them into a small bowl and wraps them in paper, then heads over to the bungalow where Margaery stays.

Knocking softly, she calls out, "Hello, Margaery? Can I come in? You don't need to get up or anything."

"Nerys!" There is obvious relief and excitement in her voice. Having to be stuck in bed was beyond tedious, even though she felt the effects of the burns still and suffered from dizziness. The injuries were mild, but Claire took no chances. Margaery was to convalesce until she could stand on her feet without nearly toppling over.

The quiet had been grating at first, but after living alone, she had become adapted to it. Now, it was simply the having nothing to do. Only when someone visited did she feel actual relief and excitement. It was far better than staring at the wall, as she had been.

"Come in! Please! How are you?" She is desperate for conversation.

Nerys takes the pleasure in the sound of her name as welcome, and enters the bungalow even before Margaery can finish up 'come in'. It's chilly outside, and damp, and so the indoors are welcome even if nearly everywhere outside the inn is too cold for her personal tastes right now. Winter and Nerys don't get along, never have.

"I'm fine," she says, following Margaery's voice until she's peering around the doorframe into the bedroom. "But I'm not the one who's been hurt, how are you doing?" She's relieved to see that the young woman looks relatively well, if very pale and bandaged and generally exhausted. "I brought you something--not really medicine but it might help you feel a little better."

She steps over to the bed and proffers the bowl of chocolates. "We'd frozen some after the Harvest Festival, I remembered how much you like them."

It was something they had in common. Margaery had never experienced a winter before and the cold had set her ill at ease. Even with the furnace and the fire, it still wasn't warm enough to her tastes. She had once jested that Tyrell blood ran hot, but it seemed that was untrue in the literal sense.

She smiled, despite the small wince of pain. It was easier to brush everything aside for politeness, but her friend deserved an honest answer for her obvious concern. "My skin is slightly burned, but not so terribly as others. I feel dizzy and sometimes my hearing fades a little, but I have been told it will pass. My heart rate has returned to normal at least." It had been worrying, but compared to the rest of those effected, she had come out with only minor injuries.

Margaery gave a laugh of delight. "Even since the festival, I have become hopelessly addicted to chocolate. I don't know what I will do when I run out. Thank you, truly." A small beat before, "You have remained safe?"

Listening to Margaery's list of her injuries and symptoms, Nerys thinks back to the console shocks she's seen in the past, figuring that this strike probably equates on that level, at least in this case for her friend. "That sounds about right--you'll be okay, I'm sure, in a few days, if the doctor says so. You just need to keep resting," she says, though she's now even more worried for the others who've been struck that she's not seen. The recovery and treatment here will be limited at best, and--

She's not going to think about people dying, even if it's a possibility that's very real these days. Not right now.

Nerys clears her throat and adds, "I'm fine. Probably too fine. The worst thing that's happened to me is that I've been befriended by, uh...a..." She searches for the word. "A moose! Have you seen one before? They're huge."

"It's the 'resting' that is difficult." Margaery smiled sheepishly. "I dislike being inactive or relying on others to carry my weight." After learning to enjoy hard work and the feeling she received at the end of a productive day, she hated to simple be idle. "I at least can practice my stitching." Which was something.

She knows how deadly these strikes have been, the houses struck and the life that was lost.

Her attention returns to Nerys as she clears her throat, the dark thoughts left behind. "I have!" She laughed. "You are not the only one, it seems. Logan has as well."

Laughing gently, Nerys shakes her head. "Me too. The doctors and medics always hated me when I got sick or injured, back home, because I wouldn't stay down. I probably have a scar or two that would look a little prettier if I hadn't gone running around right after I got it."

Nerys has been healthy here, except for a mild cold or two. This has her somewhat worried, because there are enough people turning up from enough places that she really should have caught something by now. She does know being stressed about not being sick will only make things worse if she does come down with something, though, so trying not to think about it and washing her hands a lot is the main remedy. "And there's nothing wrong with stitching. You're far better at it than I am," she points out. "Which is useful if people want clothes that don't look like rags."

She stretches out her legs, grateful that her boots are relatively clean and not making a mess in the bedroom so that Margaery might feel obligated to clean. "Is that his name, Logan?" she asks. "He didn't strike me as the kind of guy who liked small talk, so we didn't really get introduced. That and I was...concerned...about the moose."

"Claire has been diligent in keeping me in my room. It's only a matter of finding something to do. I wish I had something to read." She had never been a great reader before, but it would be something to occupy her with.

"Not nearly as good as I can be." She laughed, holding up her earlier attempts. There were a number of tangles in the thread, but at least it was looking more like an actual rose. "I was never a diligent student, I had other matters holding my attention. At least now, I can practice more."

She smiled, nodding slowly. "Logan, yes. He keeps to himself, it seems, but he can be friendly...with the right incentive. I think that he is naturally suspicious, especially in this place, though that is hardly a surprise."

"I wish I could offer you a book," replies Nerys in return, and she genuinely means it down to her core. During her time on the station, she was reading constantly, even though nearly all of it was for work, and they'd had a padd or two with the classics and latest samizdat floating around the resistance cell at all times. Part of her's worried she'll forget how to read anything longer than a page or two at a time.

The embroidery is a tiny bit sloppy, but it's far better than anything Nerys herself can do. She makes an admiring sound as she looks at the cloth. "At least you can get stitches to go in lines that are generally where you intend them to be. I just considered mine acceptable if they held two pieces of cloth together, and even that wasn't guaranteed." She snorts and makes a face. "As for Logan being naturally suspicious, I agree, you can't really blame him around here."

Likely he had some sort of past, like Nerys, that made him wary. Possibly also a scent that attracted animals, like those cigars. She'd resisted the urge to comment on his smoking, but it was incredibly strange.

"It is strange the things that you miss when you are deprived of them." There was at least embroidering. She had never believed before that it was going to be a saving grace, something to keep her from going mad with boredom. Yet here she was, grateful to have needle and thread to create with. Perhaps with enough time, she would actually improve.

She smiled, looking down at her work. "That is kind of you. It's been some time since I was instructed by my grandmother. I was never a diligent student, I'm afraid." She chuckled, setting the work aside so she could give Nerys her full attention. "It's something I find is true for a number of people. Those that are newly arrived, it's little wonder that they are suspicious."

"We all need stories somehow. Maybe we should start doing storytelling some nights, after dinner," Nerys says, remembering the conversation she had with Sam a while ago, while cooking. "Though mine will probably seem a little bit strange, all things considered." She smiles at Margaery, looking down at the sewing for a moment before looking back up, sobering a hair at the other topic of conversation.

"You start out here in the worst way possible--can you imagine, coming out of the fountain now, in the winter?--and then everything is utterly strange and unfamiliar, no matter where you come from. I agree, there's a lot of good reasons to be suspicious." She knew that she herself would have stayed far more suspicious were it not for the fact that the vast majority of the people she's met here are reasonable and decent, or at least get along okay with everyone else in the daily project of survival. It doesn't mean she's not vigilant, but it takes too much energy to be wary of known parties.

"As a group?" She hadn't considered it, but the idea was intriguing. The village was growing and a part of her worried about losing the community that they had made together. After all they had gone through, perhaps it would be a nice way for everyone to relax and connect once more. "We should suggest it. Perhaps fireside stories?"

She shook her head, frowning. "It was disorienting enough when I climbed out in summer. For those that died in their world, I know how frightening and confusing this place is. We each have gone through the same fear and apprehension. It is why it is good for all of us to be a community."

"Just people who want to, there's nothing worse than enforced group bonding time," Nerys feels compelled to note, shuddering a little. It's as bad as smalltalk and introduction activities at seminars, something that she's had to get used to in her time on the station. Well, get used to until she arrived here, anyway. "Seeing as people are from all over the place, even what's old to them will be brand-new to nearly everybody else. Keeps things interesting, gives people a reason to talk to each other."

Now, admittedly, Nerys herself is not very good at this as a rule. Doesn't mean she can't give advice to others that she's terrible at taking on, though.

"People always seem to arrive when you least expect it. I don't think that helps anyone on this side or the new person--we're always caught off-guard, somewhat, rushing to resolve the situation." Her brow furrows, teeth gritting together. "That might actually be the reason, we're always meant to be on our toes."

She smirked at that idea. "True. I imagine there are a number of people in the village who would recoil at the idea." Logan was the first to come to mind. "It would at least be something for those that might wish to know the others in the village, as well as allow us company. It can be too quiet sometimes." Especially when the sun set. "It's something we could at least suggest."

Margaery wasn't sure how much she'd share about herself, but she was at least interested to hear what the others might say.

"Perhaps. We have seen that certain events are done to distract us from something else. That feast we were at, the one where the young woman died. While we were inside, that creature came from the woods. It seemed almost deliberate."

Nerys puts on an innocent-looking face. "They might come around to it, if given the chance," she says, the faintest touch of a smirk playing over her lips. "But definitely not something that'd be enforced. At least, for the wintertime, until it gets warmer and we have more things to do."

She pauses, losing her jovial expression, and lets out a long puff of air between her lips. "So what have these lightning strikes been hiding?" she asks rhetorically. "Or are these the..." It takes a moment for her to find the human turn of phrase, because the Bajoran one won't make any sense, even in translation. "Is this the stick instead of the carrot? Are these the bad things instead of the reward?"

Neither Nerys or Margaery know the quote 'the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away', but if they did, it might seem appropriate. What both of them do understand, though, the same in many religions and on many worlds, is balance.

"I wish I could say. Perhaps that aurora had been the reward before the lightening? Or perhaps it is a herald, just as the earthquake was. We received the springs when the earthquakes stopped. So perhaps this will lead to something else?" There was something they would discover, she had to guess. The natural disasters always seemed to bring something of the sort.

Though it sounded silly to her ears. This whole place could be unbelievable at times.

"Either that or we'll get nothing, out of sheer spite," Nerys says, wryly sighing and shaking her head, closing her eyes for a moment in mock exhaustion. "No, I think you're right. Something's got to come out of this. Pain as payment, I guess..."

She makes a face as she looks at the incredibly wan and exhausted Margaery. "Which is, let's be honest, kind of a shitty trade. I'm glad you're okay, but it couldn't have been a good thing to happen, and it sure as hell wasn't pleasant."

Better that, though, than mauled to death or something else.

"It wasn't," she shivered, trying not to remember what it truly made her think of. Her mind threatened to return to her world, drawn there by similar pain and fear. She pushed it out of her head, focusing instead on the embroidery she had been working on, trying to keep her fingers busy and her mind occupied.

"My heart beat so quickly and I couldn't hear anything for a moment afterwards. It isn't a pleasant experience." Which was as close as she would admit to being afraid.

It sounds pretty much exactly like the console shocks Nerys has heard about back home. Chief O'Brien once told a hell of a yarn about getting shocked as a cadet, but she's even seen a few in real life herself. Fortunately none she's witnessed have ever been fatal, and she knows enough about the science behind it (electrical disturbance of cardiac rhythm alongside nerve damage) to get a sense for how awful it feels.

She shudders, just slightly. "I imagine not," she agrees, deciding it's probably better to spare Margaery the biology lesson that she probably doesn't need or want. "People are worried about going outside, but if we want to eat, we can't really avoid it, which I guess is what our...observers...want from us."

"I don't know how we could protect ourselves. My animals can't graze and have to remain indoors, but it isn't healthy for them. There is nothing I can do until the storm passes. The others in the village need to hunt and we need to trade for different necessities. Our lives are being disrupted by this storm, but there is no means to withstand it for when we have to go outside."

She had stayed indoors as often as possible and was quick to go between the police station and her home. Yet it hadn't been enough. One simple errand had resulted in her being electrocuted...if that was the proper word for it. She was still learning the terms.

Nerys heaves a long sigh through parted lips, running her hand through her hair. She needs a haircut, again, though it's not exactly easy to keep any kind of style neat for long around here. Maybe she'll just chop it really short, like she did when she was seventeen.

"Unless we all went around wearing Faraday cages or something, there's not really any options, I agree," she says, and despite the gravity of the situation, her lips twitch at the thought of them walking around in mesh boxes. It wouldn't be useful for much of any activity at all. "And I don't think there's anything like rubber to speak of. Shi--shoot."

Somehow she didn't feel right swearing in front of Margaery.

"I guess the only thing to do is try not to be alone, as much as possible, so someone can get help if needed."

It isn't the swearing that catches her attention, she had heard the word "shit" before. It's the term that she isn't familiar with, "Faraday cages". She looks at Nerys curiously, silently asking for a clarification. It was sometimes tedious to feel ignorant because she couldn't keep up with terms or conversations.

That was at least something, even if it might not always be feasible. "It is why I am grateful to have Claire living here. I feel less alone and I have someone to help me as I recuperate." Sometimes she missed having a full household, other times, she simply missed the quiet.

"You are not alone, are you?"

Nerys does catch the curious look--it actually kind of reminds her of Odo, the expression he makes when he doesn't entirely follow and expects clarification without lowering himself to ask. It makes her heart ache, for a second, but she swallows hard to shake it off.

"A Faraday cage...is basically a box made out of metal mesh or a grid. Electricity--what makes lightning--always tries to get to the ground, but it goes through some things much faster than others. Like metal--or like water, why you wouldn't want to go swimming during a thunderstorm. Anyway, someone figured out that if you put a person in a metal box and sent electricity at them, the electricity wouldn't bother going through the person. It just goes through the box and into the ground."

She hopes she's getting this as close to the scientific level of Margaery's home planet as possible without offending the formal definition. "You can do it with maille suits, but I don't think we have the metalworking capability. There can't be any big gaps," she adds.

The verbal question startles her, and she blinks, clearing her throat. "I live by myself," she says. "It's...okay, most of the time. Though it's been hard over the winter, hard to stay warm." That makes her blush, a little.

That sounds...complicated and frightening. She has no desire to be in any cage or to have lightening strike her again, even if it is the box that is hit. She shakes her head, a casual dismissal of the subject. Nerys hadn't been serious anyway, it didn't bear a response.

"If we had metal workers, there are other tasks that they should be put to. We will be running out of space soon and some of the destroyed houses need repair. I understand there is no room left at the inn?"

She nods, "Did you not have a fire?"

Nerys is glad for the topic to be let go--she doesn't actually know how much more she can explain about it in plain Standard, particularly as she's not sure how much Margaery understands about electricity in general. She clears her throat and nods. "As far as I know, and people seem to keep arriving out of the fountain, off and on. Once it gets warmer, hopefully we'll be able to do better with repairing the houses, or at least get the material to build new ones."

Looking a little sheepish in response to the second question, she nods and stares down at her feet for a moment, pointing and flexing her toes. "Oh yeah, I had a fire in the stove and things. Just...where I'm from, it's much easier to keep places warm and cold." With a grim chuckle, she adds, "I think I'd gotten a little bit soft, before I ended up here.

It Comes Crashing Down

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)