caveofsapphires | smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

WHO: EVERYONE. All PCs thus far will be in this log, through active tagging or implication.
WHAT: THRILLS. SPILLS. Hiking trip toward the Diamond City.
WHERE: The Overworld.
WHEN: Forward-dated to May 1st (Tuesday) through May 7th (Monday).
WARNINGS: May contain violence or other mentions of physical harm. This is not summer camp.
NOTES: More information can be found on the OOC post here. Please read it!

Gathered in the morning haze, Sleepers were brought to the mouth of the Cave with plenty of supplies and equipment. Compasses that would point them toward the City. Backpacks full of clothes and food, medical kits, tents and even weapons. Stun rifles and knives — to fight off any unwanted company, they said. ("Watch out for their bite," Ryan had commented. "Those fuckers are downright feral.") The straight and narrow path would get them there in six days if they kept a good clip. They were sent off just like that. Refusals to leave were met with a wall of guard force officers blocking the entrance back into the cave city. No way to go but forward, unless someone was particularly stalwart about remaining.

From the exterminator's station near the mouth, leaving the Cave was as simple as a short hike upward into the fresh air of the Overworld. Dust and an uncomfortable sort of heat pervaded the atmosphere, light winds stirring up the sand and teasing the meager bits of vegetation that had grown. No matter what direction you looked... it was all wasteland, cracked ground and desolate emptiness. Jutting up from scarred ground were boulders and small spires made entirely of glass and patches of stone; instead of reflecting the harsh sunlight, they seemed to absorb it and only add to the muted loneliness of the atmosphere. As far as the eye could see, there was no life to be found.

With no other option, the Sleepers eventually made their way onward.

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Ever since the day before, since Ken's injury and subsequently slower pace, since he had started to move distances without moving so much as trying to move, Liam had been very deliberate about how he stepped. It wouldn't do to keep phasing all over the place without any idea how to control it properly. This wasn't like how he did it before, back when he had reason to be popping in and out on a whim.

So, he walked carefully. The wind kicking up around them was enough to catch his attention early and he huddled into his windbreaker... and noticed the sound from behind them. "Shit," he muttered, hand automatically going to grip at Ken's arm while stepping to the side and getting ready to move as quickly as he could. It was the panic that shattered his concentration and the next thing he knew, he was through the empty space and stumbling over the ground several yards away, without Ken, and...

... that was a cliff. That was definitely a cliff he was sliding toward. A short one, relatively speaking, but when its face was apparently made of glass, the perceived distance shot up dramatically. Liam rolled down it and crashed to the bottom with an oomph. He rocketed to his feet and started yelling upward before he could even notice the safe haven several yards off to his left: nature's makeshift shelter of a wide glass spire meeting with the edge of the cliff at an angle to form a very crude sort of tent.

"Ken! Ken!" Despite the clock ticking against him, he desperately reached around for footholds on the sheer surface to try and get back up. As the search turned more and more futile, he began to mutter, "Fuck, fuck, bloody fuck, this couldn't have come at a worse time...!"

A headache (or habit) somehow always seems worse after a reprieve. As glad as Chivy was to be feeling anything resembling normal, it would have been nice for things to change at a point that wasn't already at less than optimal fun levels. As the wind started to pick up, he pulled his shirt up over his face (wishing, for one ridiculous moment, that he had a scarf like Sefton's) and started to run. He almost fell when he heard someone shout to his left, trying to turn without dropping in speed.

"What? Are you okay?" he called, trying to be loud enough to be heard both through his clothing and over the rising wind.

"What do you think?!" Liam yelled back, an automatic and frenzied response. This was not good. None of it was good and he was at a loss because he was alive again, yet desperately wished not to be, if only so he could do anything worth a damn.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, one arm raised to cover the side of his face in an attempt at blocking out the rapidly rising dust and sand in the air. He was right on the verge of panic, breaths coming in short coughs and starting to hurt. Liam couldn't breathe, Ken was out there injured and alone—and was it mentioned that he couldn't breathe?

Chivy had never gotten a handle on why people would respond like that — because, honestly, if they were irritated because the first question was a waste of time, their response wasn't exactly helping either. Not much would be helpful short of stopping the dust storm or finding something to block it with.

It would be nice to think that the glass would provide some kind of barrier to the dust storm, but it just seemed to be in the way of getting anywhere. Looking around quickly, Chivy noticed the overhang and pointed its way. "Over there! Come on."

Coughing harder as the seconds ticked by, Liam forced himself first to look at Chivy to see where he was pointing, then to follow the gesture. At least he didn't need to worry about getting anything in his eyes... He bent over halfway, hand covering his mouth as his legs threatened to give out. Yet another reason why being alive was a stupid hindrance right now and why couldn't he figure out how he was doing that teleportation thing now that he needed it? Maybe he would die (again) from his lack of breath and that would be that.

This clearly wasn't going to work very well, and Liam knew it. He used his free hand to wave widely toward the slanted tower of glass and hoped the other man got the point. He'd follow if he could, but waiting for him would simply be a bust.

Chivy shook his head, not bothering with trying to argue it, and went over to try putting an arm around Liam to help propel / support him. The situation wasn't under debate — Chivy wasn't getting to safety by himself. He would apologize once breathing wasn't quite so complicated.

Liam grunted in frustration, yet automatically swung an arm around Chivy's shoulders to help the process while keeping his other hand firmly planted near his mouth. No sense in pulling both of them over in a no-time situation such as they currently faced. His legs weren't working too well by that point, but he managed some staggering steps and those were enough to get him started.

Chivy did his best to help rather than hinder, extremely glad the shelter wasn't very far off. It was difficult enough as it was. When they had gotten inside, he dropped his arm so that he could pull down his shirt and cough, but didn't try shrugging off Liam entirely. "Sorry," he said, as soon as he caught his breath.

It didn't much matter, and Liam lurched forward and slouched to the ground almost as soon as they were in the clear. It wasn't perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than being out there in the open as the winds only continued to get rougher. He stayed there, supported only by his arms and knees, for quite a while as he tried to expel the sand and calm his own breathing.

Which, you know, didn't work so well when his body kept insisting the breathlessness and chaos and all that was just like this incident back in '44... The fact that Ken was nowhere nearby only added to the distress. "I have to—have to get—fuck," he cursed into the coughs. Words were going to have to wait another few minutes.

Chivy looked out and then back at Liam and resisted the urge to ask what was probably another stupid question. It didn't look like the guy was up for any kind of extended Q&A right now anyway. He pulled his water bottle from his pack and took a drink, wincing as he swallowed sand. He'd rather swallow it than spit out the water, at the moment. He tried to wipe some of the dirt off of the top of the bottle with his shirt (possibly doing more harm than good) and then held it out to Liam. "Here. If it'll help."

What? Liam tilted his head, eyed the water, then shakily forced himself to lean back against the cliff wall behind him and reach for the water. He was shaking from adrenaline, but thankfully the water was already drained enough that it didn't splash out with all the jolting around. While trying to drink while coughing was not the best idea, he had no better ones and thus raised it to his lips to take a quick sip. It went down with difficulty, helping to soothe his throat and consequently lungs despite the trouble.

After a moment of simply sipping, pausing to breathe and then sipping again, he struggled to sit up properly and shoved the bottle back toward Chivy. "I have to go back out there," he said, turning to give the sandstorm outside a very tired, very determined and very frightened look.

Chivy took the water bottle and held up his hands, shifting so that he was in close enough range to grab Liam if he somehow started off in that direction. "What? Why?" he asked, trying to come up with some answer that wasn't completely insane. It was almost as if Liam had some kind of deathwish.

"My husband is out there," Liam answered tightly, already trying to shift his legs underneath him. It didn't make much sense, admittedly, when here he was still recovering from (and trying to ignore the remnants of) a panic attack, but that was probably exactly why it sounded like a feasible plan.

Chivy looked out again for a second, reminding himself that he hadn't seen anyone else before grabbing Liam and that he would remember if he had. "If he's any further out than we were, there's no way you'll get there and back here again." And there wasn't much likelihood that he would be able to help at all, assuming he did find his husband out in the storm.

Liam shook his head, clearly not ready to just give up. Hell no. There had to be something he could do, some way he could use this power and get Ken to safety. "He's injured. I don't care how far he is—that's a bloody sandstorm, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"I know it is, and that's why you shouldn't be going back out in it!" Chivy said, waving an arm in emphasis. It was hard coming up with arguments other than the obvious — Chivy knew that if it were someone he knew out in the storm, he'd have a hard time staying put himself, but Liam really didn't seem like he was in any kind of shape to be trying another round outside.

"You're suggesting I just leave him out there," Liam gritted out, eyes narrowing. Not only because he found the idea incredibly offensive, but because this was something he couldn't entirely deny. Logically, he knew going out there would be stupid and getting back would be nearly impossible. Logic held very little place in his mind when Liam thought about what must be happening with Ken right now, his own thoughts swirling and panicking and hoping to whatever deity or natural forces might be listening that Ken had made it to safety.

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