revivalproject

Entry tags:

impact

WHO: Anyone in the area!
WHERE: From the Forge to the Hangar, so clear across the whole right side of the map if you're nasty
WHAT: A race, an abrupt end, and the inevitable consequences
WHEN: Once the glitter has settled, mid-Feb
WARNINGS: Some people will probably get hurt, but I have no metric for how gory they're going to be about it. I'll let you know if it happens.
NOTES: I'll put some toplevels just to organize the sequence of events, but if they're in a weird order to you or you want a different one to do your thing and need me to reorganize, let me know. If you just want to put another one, feel free.
For any further plotting discussion of anything going on here, hit up the plotting post.

While the air was no longer swirling with it, the effect of the glitter gathered like a blanket on the ground was like that of freshly packed snow after a storm. It left Tony squinting in the glare of it with the sun revealed clearly in a cloudless sky, only to bounce viciously off of every coated surface. Even through his sunglasses and hand raised to shade his eyes as he peered down the corridor from the grassy edge of the forge toward where he knew the hangar was, Tony could only consider the path for so long before squeezing his eyes shut against the competing oases that the light threw up. It was going to feel a bit like skiing, he thought.

Returning to the site where his pit crew had been gathering throughout the development of the vehicle, he reported, "It's worth a try." The path up to the hangar was almost entirely a wide, straight road, the longest clear area they had to test the power of the speeder. As Tony mounted it experimentally to kick the power on, it flung a new rain of glitter in all directions, leaving anyone gathered doused once more and Tony snickering from the hovering vehicle. "I don't think there's going to be any problems."

It was a heavy, growling thing under the sleek body that Tony had found time to detail with pink and red glittering stars, inspired by the strange storm. Unlike the Iron Man's whispering repulsor power, the speeder purred even at rest, gnawing through the experimental fuel and whining faintly at the effort of holding itself up and in place, like it was straining against a bit. It felt more like a motorcycle that Tony would be familiar with, likely, than the speeder that Poe was expecting, or the sparrow that Cayde had tried to explain, and without having to rely on the repulsors, it could manage far more weight for longer periods than this model of Iron Man. A heavy Exo could easily take a passenger, or a haul of dinnerware, to start cutting down on the travel time around here.

Or Tommy could be given yet another thing to gloat about.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh poor BB-8. He kneels down by the droid, looking at the issues.

"Tony," he grumbles under his breath. "May I please, Poe? I'm very good at straightening of wires and other metal. Came with my work. If you are both already with that."

He also looks sadly at the wires. He thinks he knows what he can do for that as well.

"I have some tools back in my workspace that could help with repairs."

"Crashes happen," Poe excuses, though he's going to have his own words with everyone involved. He's been in enough of them to know they can't always be helped.

He hands off the antennae with a grateful hum, palm dropping to give BB-8 a reassuring pat.

"We'd appreciate it," he accepts, not sure he can make the repairs himself without more familiar equipment, "Can you give me a hand up?" His ankle very much doesn't want him to rise, though he's sure it's just a sprain, he can power through easily enough.

Crashes do happen, but that doesn't mean Reeve has to be pleased about it because there is so much that could have been avoided here. But he takes the antennae carefully and tucks it into a pocket. They'll need to head to his office indeed. Damn, it's a bit of a walk, especially if Poe had a sprained ankle. Well, he supposed the ships were an option. He did have some tools here, and good hands for the work.

"Appreciation is well and good, I just wish there was more I could do. Sadly, the Agrii did not see fit to randomly gift me with my healing materia."

He offers out a hand, even as Mini goes to check on BB-8.

"Come, let's start with getting you to a ship and settling you there. Need be, I can send that fast young man to my office for what I'll need."

Poe waves off the concern, though once he's up he does lean on Reeve.

"You can do that?" he asks in surprise. Not here apparently, but did everyone have powers of some kind but him? "I can walk. This is nothing. I got thrown from a crash on Jakku, wandered the desert on foot until I found someone."

Reeve wraps his arm around Poe's waist, offering more stability.

"I'm a deft hand with the magic I work back home. Though I suppose I still have the one magic here, with Mini."

Healing, though, he wished he could. Though he doesn't roll his eyes over Poe suggesting he could go off on his own. Even if he could, that didn't mean he should.

"Let me help you, that's what I'm here for."

Poe offers a challenging smirk, but accepts the assistance, fitting into his side and wrapping his own arm up over Reeve's shoulder.

"There should be some bandages in the ship. Wrap it up and I'll be good to go."

Oh don't challenge him you injured young man.

"I can and will wrap your ankle. But you should stay off of it. So we'll use your ship and you will stay on it while I send someone for tools to help with BB-8."

Don't argue with him, Poe. Didn't you hear him argue with Tony? He's not going to give up on it.

If you intend to befriend Poe you are just going to have to put up with a whole lot of challenge, Mister.

"Is that so?" he teases, arching a brow, "Doctor's orders?"

Poe? Poe isn't challenging. Clearly.

"You seem the type to ignore doctor's orders. And if I thought you would respect those of a superior, I'd use that tone."

Except Poe reminds him of Cid, and no one told that man what to do. He had his own opinions. Nope, that wasn't likely to happen.

"If it comes to it, I will find a way to tie you to the bunk," Reeve warns. "I'm good with knots."

Because, you know, engineer and needing to tie up bundles of supplies and all he did in the last world. Clearly no other implication should be read.

"Only one," Poe admits, "Most of the time. And you're not her."

He laughs, giving a flirtatious tilt of his head. "Oh I'm sure you are. I'm good at getting out them," he warns.

"I'll be good," he surrenders, "For now at least."

"I am most decidedly not her," Reeve agrees.

But, wait, what was that? Did... Did Poe just flirt with him? The man had just had his friend hurt, was injured himself, and he was doing that? Reeve, for the life of him, couldn't help but laugh. That was definitely a way to break some tension.

"Have you ever heard of a verbal filter? If so, you might wish to implement one, just temporarily."

Leia's probably the only one whose ever really gotten Poe to behave, apart from his mother.

And please. Poe can flirt with a blaster to his head, it's his natural go to.

He bites at his lip with a laugh. "Not my strongest suit," he admits, pressing a palm to the door of the ship, doors sliding open, "And you started it," he adds.

Well, behavior was something Reeve would expect in the future. Or hope for. For now he was just happy the ship entered. Too bad he didn't know what this specific ship's layout was. He hadn't been on it.

"I didn't start anything at all," Reeve counters, rolling his eyes. "Where's your bunk?"

"Mm Hmm," Poe hums disbelievingly, nodding his head towards the bunks, turning into the space. His bunk was made clear by CC-9 poking their head out. They rarely leave the ship these days, preferring the cleaner environment of the confined space to the outdoor.

"Three guesses," he teased, releasing his hold on Reeve and moving to pull away now that he was close enough to crawl in himself. It's clear Poe's made this his home, his few possessions hidden away at the end of the bunk.

"

Ah, another droid. Mini, who was following slowly behind them, offered a very vigorous wave to the droid.

"I'm guessing it's where the cute little guy is," Reeve mused. He doesn't at all judge poe for the relative comfort the ship provided. Sure, Reeve himself wasn't as big on the confined space, but he understood it.

"Stay here then. I'll see if I can find something suitable to wrap your ankle with. BB-8, I know you are not feeling the best, but I do ask that you watch him and make sure he stays in bed. Whistle if you need someone to kick him back into it."

Not that he'd kick Poe. Even if he did have built up aggression left over from yelling at Stark.

CC-9 gave a more subdued chirp than BB-8 tends to, coming out to first examine their follow droid, and then Mini, circling round the plush.

Poe's gotten used to the confined space of a ship, it's almost comforting at this point. "CC-9," he introduces, "They prefer to stay inside."

BB-8 beeps in affirmative, rolling after Poe to usher him fully into the bunk, while CC-9 rolls off to try and lead Reeve towards the first-aid supplies.

"It is lovely to meet them as well," Reeve assures the droid with a little nod. It's nice too that the little droid is so willing to help. He points at Mini before he moves to follow the droid.

"Watch him. If he tries to leave, tell me."

Mini throws off a salute and Reeve moves to follow CC-9.

Poe snorts at his own personal miniature guards, making a face at Mini but obediently keeping put in his bunk. He shrugs off his jacket with a sigh, tugging up his pant leg to get a look at the damage himself, testing the limits of how much he can move without grimacing in pain.

So maybe Reeve was right. He wasn't about to admit that to him.

CC meanwhile calmly led Reeve, climbing low ramps Poe had put down to help them easier navigate. They aren't built like BB, and parts of the ship had been inaccessible to them for a them, struggling briefly as their wheel track caught on a transition strip between the doorway.

Reeve follows CC quite happily and once they reach the place where the supplies, he's quick to pull them free. He offers a thankful nod to CC-9.

"If you'll forgive me, I'm going back quickly. I'm worried he's underplaying the injury."

He's happy to treat the droids like people because he's used to it with his own companion. Once he was back he looked at Poe, frowning at the man's bared skin.

"I'm sorry to say we're going to have to take your shoe off. If it starts swelling, it won't go back on, so you do need to stay around."

Frowning, Poe resists the idea, more out of principle now then anything. It's hard to deny when he can see the swelling for himself, the bit of bruising all ready blooming.

"...I'll give it a day," he relents, moving to try and toe the boot off with his heel, but nope, not a good idea.

"I'll find someone who can let me onto this ship to make sure you haven't wandered," Reeve threatens as he goes to a knee in front of the other man. "You're lucky I don't have a sleep spell, or a stop."

He knocks the uninjured foot away, instead letting his own hand come to work the boot first loose, and then gently off. He immediately started to tut gently over what he found.

"Well, just a visual inspection says it's not broken. Do you mind if I test it?"

After the life he had lived, learning basic first aid was important. Even in a world with magic, you had to make sure the body was properly prepared for healing before you actually went and did it. Which often meant splinting joints before spells if you weren't in the rush of a battle.

"You can try." Though for all his teasing, Poe probably won't try to get too far.

He props himself up on his elbows, head stretched out in the bunk, head craned so he can watch, and his lips quirks pointedly. "Told you," he mutters with a smirk, but nods, "Go ahead."

"I'm stubborn enough to succeed," Reeve counters lightly as his fingers settle softly to pulling off the sock. Soon cold fingers are probing at the ankle, twisting it too.

"I'm sorry, I normally am not this much of a pain to someone until at least the third meeting where they're turning in work late."

"So am I," Poe returns, but the effect is lessened by the shiver that follows with those cold fingers. The probing and twisting earns the odd wince, and Poe bites at his lip to keep quiet after a particular turn makes his leg jerk.

"I tend to bring that out in people, I don't mind."

"You seem the type," Reeve agrees. Once he's certain there isn't a break, he takes the bandage and start to unwind it.

"Well, you don't have a report that you owe me, so I think we'll be fine," Reeve assures the other man. But he doesn't move from his place, now sitting on the floor, to carefully wrap. "If you need help while you're recovering, tell me. I'll bill Stark."

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