They're bigger than me and fly. Just shoot up, yeh? [Horse offers by way of reassurance, clapping the chatty nerd on her shoulder. She thinks that Bella's holding up pretty well, all things considered. Plus one point for humankind, our hearts don't stop from terror like bunnies.
Horse probably is scared on some level, but you can't tell by looking at her as weaves halfway upright, her back still stooped in strange precaution. She makes her way over to the nearest mess of rubble and starts to sift through. Despite her reasonably impressive build, plenty of the shattered rocks are large and dense enough to give her pause. Some of them, she only pits herself against for a split-second before giving up, stepping over. Eventually, she frees a big spar of metal. It doesn't look like rebar, but it looks strong enough. Whatever it used to be probably doesn't matter anymore, like so much of the rest of the promise Olympus held before.
Outside and far away, something explodes. Not loud. Closest thing to thunder Horse has heard in awhile, and she doesn't even look up, as she installs the lever and starts to pull.
Five, six seconds. It seems for a moment like she's got the end pushed in wrong or something, but then the drone's limbs start to jiggle, tellingly, and the rotundity of the inert chassis starts to slip away from the jagged edge of the wall. Orange light seeps through the widening gap, orange from fire despite the smoke and dust and debris filling the air. The small flickers of shadows that flit past seem too small to pose meaningful threats, at least until Horse eases the space a couple feet wider.
There's a drone coming into view behind her. Despite what she'd said long minutes earlier, this one is walking on the ground, jagged upturned metal along its back where some collision rendered flight impossible. Its red optics focus on Horse's lanky figure as the woman tries to wedge her lever tight.]
no subject
Horse probably is scared on some level, but you can't tell by looking at her as weaves halfway upright, her back still stooped in strange precaution. She makes her way over to the nearest mess of rubble and starts to sift through. Despite her reasonably impressive build, plenty of the shattered rocks are large and dense enough to give her pause. Some of them, she only pits herself against for a split-second before giving up, stepping over. Eventually, she frees a big spar of metal. It doesn't look like rebar, but it looks strong enough. Whatever it used to be probably doesn't matter anymore, like so much of the rest of the promise Olympus held before.
Outside and far away, something explodes. Not loud. Closest thing to thunder Horse has heard in awhile, and she doesn't even look up, as she installs the lever and starts to pull.
Five, six seconds. It seems for a moment like she's got the end pushed in wrong or something, but then the drone's limbs start to jiggle, tellingly, and the rotundity of the inert chassis starts to slip away from the jagged edge of the wall. Orange light seeps through the widening gap, orange from fire despite the smoke and dust and debris filling the air. The small flickers of shadows that flit past seem too small to pose meaningful threats, at least until Horse eases the space a couple feet wider.
There's a drone coming into view behind her. Despite what she'd said long minutes earlier, this one is walking on the ground, jagged upturned metal along its back where some collision rendered flight impossible. Its red optics focus on Horse's lanky figure as the woman tries to wedge her lever tight.]