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--- campaign:carve:2024-06-11 [2024/07/30 22:50] – Today's stuff pinkgothic
+++ campaign:carve:2024-06-11 [2024/09/03 21:51] (current) – pinkgothic
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 However, with Leila's helmet still off her suit, she could tell that something was sounding like a distant, thin whistle somewhere.
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+**Nymphetamine**:
+Watching carefully, she couldn't have pinpointed how the explosion began. She was just suddenly clapping her hands over her ears insinctually, though it did so little that her ears were still ringing when she lowered her hands. It took her a moment or two to realize what she was hearing, the whistling sound a tell tale indication that the energy had punctured the thing material of the outpost.
+Leila sprang into action, jumping onto her feet after ascertaining with a quick look that Mateo had Nyarai well in hand. With far more care, she began to investigate where the sound was coming from. Standing still, she focused on *hearing*, noticing first the sound of Mateo's efforts, and their breathing, then her own. But beyond that in the lingering silence around them, she tried to pinpoint the sound of the whistling. She had yet to put on her helmet but she turned to look back to the two sorcerers. "I think there's a hull breech..." She gestured for silence, however, turning her head about to direct her ears towards the sound.
+**pinkgothic**:
+The high-pitched nature of thin whistle made it hard to pinpoint, but she was mobile and could walk around, trying to follow the direction it was loudest in. Unhappy with the gradual drop in pressure, her ears popped, disrupting her search.
+Mateo, meanwhile, looked up from his own work to acknowledge what Leila had said, confused and paralysed for a moment, his own gaze scanning the room. It wasn't what he was supposed to do, though, and it was Nyarai who gave a curt shout. "Focus!" she grunted, biting down on one pale lip.
+The sound was coming from a corner of the thick window. A tiny chunk of glass had been punched out of the inner pane and become a projectile for the second. Mars' thin atmosphere barely registered relative to the two orders of magnitude higher pressure that Earthlings needed; it wasn't quite a vacuum, but the air was happy to spill out nearly as fast regardless.
 **Nymphetamine**:
+Turning towards the direction she seemed to think it was loudest, at least before her ears popped, she rushed over towards that side of the hull. Repair kit in hand, or hanging from her shoulder, her eyes scanning the pale 'wall' that separated them from the hostile Martian surface. Taking a deep breath of the thinning air, she steadied herself, Nyarai's sharp reminder to focus probably directed at her. Locating the spot, she began to fumble through the patching of the hole, hoping it was only the one.
 **pinkgothic**:
+A proper fix would need to target both window panes, but to mitigate the issue, she would have to prioritise the inner one. It meant shooting the insulation properties of the window to hell for sure, though they were probably past that point already - at some point they would have to send someone to replace the thing wholesale. Whatever vacuum had existed between the window panes was happily filling up with gases now.
+Fortunately, sturdy, thick duct tape was all that was needed to stop the metaphorical bleeding.
+On the less metaphorical end, though--
+"Mateo!" an exhausted Nyarai barked with distress.
+"Still here," he said, but he sounded faint and distant. He was, at least, tending to himself at this point, but it looked like they had both lost a lot of blood to their little experiment. He didn't look like he wouldn't be able to finish to patch himself up, but he did look like he was going to pass out approximately two seconds after he did.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+That tell tale sound of pulling on duct tape echoed inside the room. Using something to cut it apart (scissors or a knife, etc), she covered the hole with the tape, and then another piece. A third, just in case, before she was turning back to her associates. Mateo had seen to Nyarai's wounds, but not much on his own. Now that the leak was dealt with, even if in a shoddy way, she rushed to Mateo's side, a quick examination of what work he might have already done on himself before she picked up where he left off, or started altogether. The thick salve was slathered carefully over his wounds, perhaps a touch over generous with it, but better to be safe than sorry. Both sorcerers were in sorry states, but it was Leila's job to make sure they didn't die. Once she was satisfied with the healing salve, she found the gauze to wind around his forearm.
+**pinkgothic**:
+The two of them lay in something of a pile by now, having narrowly escaped falling unconscious. The blood on the floor made for nasty stains, but it wasn't anything they couldn't deal with later. For how, Leila's first aid training was kicking in, and once she'd wrapped their arms up in gauze that hopefully wouldn't turn out to be necessary, she remembered the best thing she could do was to get them water. Water and maybe some iron supplements to help their bodies fight the anemia.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Once she was satisfied with her quick little patchwork on the window, and then their first aid, she went to collect a couple of water pouches, and the supplements that had been laid out near by. By now, her knees were a rusting scarlet. Her gloves she had removed for the first aid, laid somewhere nearby, discarded earlier and without thought. Returning to their sides, she knelt again between them or near them both water, helping one, then the other to drink if they were too weak to manage the pouch on their own.
+**pinkgothic**:
+It was Mateo who recovered quickest. While he had over-exerted himself considerably more, he had bled only from one arm for the duration of the spellcasting, and didn't need to worry about anemia nearly as much as Nyarai. "I'm sorry," he whispered once he gathered himself enough for it, still lying down. "I wasted time. I should have just... ignored the breach, let you handle it."
+**Nymphetamine**:
+"It's alright," she said in that quiet voice, the one that dismissed the notion of his responsibility. She managed a weary smile for him, knowing that he and Nyarai had a far more harrowing time than she had. "Are you... are you okay, Mateo?" It was such a banal, stupid little question, all things considered.
+**pinkgothic**:
+"Will be," he assured her, minimalistically. "Good that you were here," he added. It briefly seemed like an absurd statement - if she'd just patched up the seal and said nothing, he'd be in a better state now - but obvious with a moment's thought: They couldn't have both patched up the window //and// fixed up their arms. If they'd been here by themselves, they probably would have asphyxiated and freeze-dried.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+An awkward pat of his shoulder above the gauze and wounds followed his reassurance, her smile lingering quietly as she gazed at him. Now that the worst of the danger seemed to be passed, she sat back on her heels, assessing their situation further.
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