This Place Is A Prison [Solo, Landslide Event]

S’cer! You need to wake up!

S’cer woke only when Quelseth panicked, her shout reverberating in his head. He was still tipsy from all the drink, having gone a little bit too far in the sheer excitement of there being no restrictions on his weyrling group. “Are you alright?” He slurred, coming into wakefulness as her feelings of anxiety and terror burst into his mind. He tugged on a shirt before rushing barefoot to the door.

It thundered, but S’cer paid it no heed; it had rained so much in the past month that a little crack of thunder every now and again was hardly frightening. Are you hurt? Is the cough causing you pain? We should go see the healers… I knew this rain wasn’t good for you!

The thunder was growing louder, and Quelseth’s creel of distress was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

---

It hurt to breathe, and Quelseth was beside herself with worry. He knew without looking, though when he opened his eyes he could see her, hovering over him, eyes whirling shades of ashy grey and lilac. I’m okay, I think?

No you’re not! The hut’s collapsed on top of you, dear, and I don’t think I can get you out.

He glanced down, and from the hip down it was nothing but a mass of mud and remnants of their hut. Experimentally he wriggled his toes, then moved his legs, testing his lower limbs to see if anything was broken. Nothing’s broken, but we have to get out of here. What if more of this comes?

She seemed distant, and S’cer tipped his head back, staring at her. Something more was wrong, something she wasn’t telling him. What’s wrong, love? I’m fine, I swear, and you look fine as well.

The babies are hurt, and some of them are dead.

His stomach lurched, her despair combining with his, and everything faded away for a few brief seconds. When he came back around again, Quelseth was digging into the mud around him frantically. S’cer tried to assist where he could, scooping up handfuls of muds and trying to wriggle himself free.

The sound of wingbeats made her pause, though S’cer continued. A great bronze dragon had landed nearby, helping her paw at the mound of debris that covered him. R’hai and Vargenth are assisting us.

With their help they managed to remove the worst of the debris; S’cer dimly registered that the bronzerider shouted something about dismounting to come help drag him out before all hell broke loose: a slip, the disgusting sound of R’hai’s impalement, Vargenth’s pained bellow echoed by Quelseth’s bugle of distress. It was too much; too loud and S’cer could hardly breathe from the tumult of emotions that were pouring off of Quelseth in waves, battering at his mind.

Vargenth managed to extricate R’hai before popping between, and Quelseth was simply standing there, staring where they had been. Despair and fear threatened to choke S’cer; he needed to get to her, and he needed to get there now!

“Quelseth, dear, darling! Don’t think about it! You can’t go between; you can’t bring them or the babies back!” S’cer was sobbing now, panicking outright, because she wouldn’t look at him and didn’t seem to acknowledge what he was saying. “I need you! I need you more than they do!”

They just left, S’cer. Will they ever come back? What will we do, now that the babies are dead?

He wriggled, hips free, grabbing desperately at the mud as he tried to wrench himself free. Something was pressing into his left calf, but he didn’t care--he was so close to freedom! He pulled, and yelled in pain as it cut into the skin of his calf; S’cer curled in on himself for a brief moment, shaking, before flopping over on his stomach and crawling to Quelseth.

He touched her foreleg, muddy and bleeding, and sobbed into her pale green hide. “You can’t leave me--I’ll never be the same without you.” And it was true; for all the fear he had experienced pre-Impression, he had never once hated her for choosing him. Did he doubt her sometimes? Of course, but he never hated her for choosing him. They needed one another, and he needed to bring her back now.

A warm breath curled over him; Quelseth had bent her head to inspect him, grief and worry and fear evident in her large, multifaceted eyes. I will never leave you. She nosed at him, and S’cer threw his arms around her muzzle, burying his face in her hide. We need to find T’lian--you’re bleeding.

Now that she had mentioned it, S’cer could feel it--a stinging ache along his leg, and a burning in his lungs when he tried to breathe. She scooped him up gingerly in her forepaws before taking to the sky, leaving their destroyed hut behind and heading away from the landslide.