logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BOTTOM OF THE RIVER

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: BOTTOM OF THE RIVER

characters: everyone.
location: everywhere.
date/time: april 15-30.
content: preparation begins, and rain falls.
warnings: n/a. please cw tags appropriately.

an early warning: april 15-17

When someone goes to check the readings at the weather station in mid-April, they notice something - an immense low-pressure system incoming in just a few short days. Looks like rain on the horizon, although it isn’t immediately clear how long it will last or how much will fall - but it seems like spring has come to Beacon, and April showers bring May flowers, right?

Better get to work.

into the water: april 18-30

Thick clouds obscure the light from the stars. The air grows thick with humidity, and soon, showers begin to fall. It’s gentle at first - a pleasant sound as the drops hit the earth and tap out patterns on the roofs.

This only lasts an hour or two before the heavens seem to open up, letting loose sheets of pounding rain that make it hard to see more than twenty feet ahead of you. The sound is immense and deafening, and you find yourself shouting over the noise as you scramble to make the last of your modifications, find your friends, and take shelter.

Within days, the water falling constantly off of the edges of the rooftops has begun to dig trenches in the soil, and the river swells and overtakes its own banks. Town becomes a moving stream of water that threatens to knock you over and take you with it, and entire sections of Beacon are cut off from each other as you find yourself unable to cross the former banks of the rivers even through flight. Torches get swept away, bridges collapse, and buildings begin to crumble.

Were you prepared?

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They can just barricade the stairwell or something. It'll be fine. They're not expecting an attack so soon after the route at the hospital, anyway-- this rain seems like its almost as hard on the spirits as it is on the residents. "If it's washing in door or no door. Rain coming in ain't gonna be that much worse."

"Go for it then," he grunts as he shoves another few sandbags into place, creating a modest dam that at least for now will keep some of it out. Makes it easier to work, anyway. There is, unsurprisingly, a brief slip in the mud that sends him right down onto the barrier, and he lets out a startled cough-gag of both surprise and pain. Most of his injuries have healed well by now, but the missing rib and whatever remaining internal damage is still nothing too pleasant.

He shoves himself back onto his feet and checks his lantern over, then continues placing sandbags. "How's it going elsewhere in town? Where were you coming from when you got here a moment ago?"

"Village," Soldat answers tersely, tossing one last sandbag over before coming to examine the door and whether he'll need actual tools to get the hinges off. "Sora's staying in the library." And they regularly check on Sora, as Rosinante would probably know by now. They and Misty have practically adopted the guy.

"Mm." Yeah, they do a lot together - he's noticed several times over the last month that Sora follows Soldat around somewhat like Daylight so often does with himself.

In fact, it's a little concerning that he hasn't seen Daylight all day, but with the flood, people are getting caught up all sorts of places. He'll have to send off a message, make sure the kid's got what he needs.

"I tried to reach out over the network and get a headcount, but everyone's probably busy shoring up buildings. It's hard to tell who needs a hand and who doesn't." He states it plainly, holding back the sigh he feels. Like always, nobody can bother to check in during a goddamn emergency and they're bound to end up losing someone they might otherwise have saved.

There's a lot of people Soldat hasn't seen since the water started to rise in the rivers. "Haven't heard anyone on the emergency app," they say, which hopefully means everyone is okay. ... it probably doesn't. Because they haven't tested the thing yet, really, and people might not all have it or remember they have it, or have the chance to use it.

The screws on the door are big but firm, they're definitely going to need a screwdriver, damn. They even remember tightening them, during the siege, to make sure the door stayed on properly. "Do you want to save the sandbags for the stairs? If the rain doesn't let up. This flooding's gonna get worse."

"Yeah, let's hold onto the rest. If there are people upstairs looking for something to do, they can make more. We have plenty of bedsheets."

He steps away from the pile he's arranged. Hopefully they'll hold long enough to get the stairs protected, like Soldat says. It's already a little better, with barely a trickle getting through to the floor past the doorway.

"Is the door stuck?" he asks, trying to figure out what's giving Soldat so much trouble.

"Unless you want me to rip it off the hinges, and then hang a whole new door later, I need a screwdriver. And the one I carry with me is too small." Since it's meant for working on the arm, and also to fit into a pocket. "Once we get the sandbags upstairs I'll come back down and take the door off. Properly."

And they heft some of those bags, themselves, leaving one to prop the door open at least.

"Leave the hinges," he says, managing a chuckle even despite the shitty situation. It's not impossible to find a little bit of humor in the statement. He stoops to take up an armful of sandbags and then heads on inside as well, trudging through the mud on the floor. It isn't far to the stairs, but it's enough space for him to slip and fall yet again, though the sandbags weight him down extra and keep him from sliding.

"Fuck," he grunts as the impact results in him biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He sucks on it for a second, then pushes himself back up with a sigh and continues with the sandbags, dumping them at the foot of the stairs.

Soldat half-smiles, back, at the chuckle. Always nice when their weird sense of humor gets a little appreciation. "Sounds good."

They pause behind Rosinante when he trips, wince quietly behind his back, and dare to suggest, "Want some ice for that? The freezers shouldn't have all melted yet." Even if the power to them shorts out (unless they're powered by magic in which case, who the fuck even knows), the water only just started getting in. There should be plenty of ice.

"Not right now," he sighs. "After we're done getting these set up."

Ice is a good idea, though, he'll begrudgingly admit that - hence not saying no outright. But he'd have to hold it to his face, and that means he can't finish up the sandbagging. Standing around uselessly with ice in a rag while Soldat works isn't going to happen, so for now he just pushes onward and starts arranging the sandbags into some sort of actual barrier against the water.

Yeah, Soldat gets it. They'd probably do the same.

They haul the last of the sandbags to the top of the stairs. "Up here? Then if the water gets this high. It won't get up to the rooms." There's no way they'll stop the water at the base of the stairs, but this should be doable, they're sure of it.

"Sure." Makes sense as he follows suit. "Water better not get that high."

A whole floor flooded? It's true though, the rain is intense and shows no signs of stopping. What limits does beacon have when it comes to ridiculous weather? He sure can't even guess. The weather station might provide clues, but he wouldn't ask anyone to go out and try to get to the station in all this flooding.

"I've never been in this kind of flooding before," Soldat admits, stacking sandbags on the landing around the top step. "I don't know what's possible. Or not possible. Have you been in a flood?" They know he's been on the ocean, knows how to sail, lived on islands... but flooding, he has no idea.

"Nothing more than a few inches. This looks like it's already going to be worse, though."

Just hopefully not too much worse. The river is what's most worrying to him - seeing as how it's already stretching over its banks in some places, and hearing how people can't cross it, that's all kinds of bad. Normally, Rosinante does not fear water, although he has a healthy and necessary respect for it. But that river is something unusual and dangerous.

"At sea, everything's already built with the water in mind. It's a little easier to deal with than this," he says as he heaves a few more sandbags up the stairs.

Catching the sandbags, laying them down one by one, Soldat says, "Probably. Though at least here there's higher ground to get to. On a boat, if you sink, you sink, yeah?" They know they've been on boats. The Sergeant has had flashes of a boat out of New York, shipping out; the Asset seems to have had an assassination on a ship once; and there's a further-back memory of working the docks, tossing things from ships to waiting carts. But nothing about actually sailing them.

"It's true. I guess it's one of those risks I'm just used to taking. But on a ship, we also have lifeboats and flotation rafts and you're not alone if something goes wrong, either."

Thankfully, Marine ships are damn hard to sink with their durable seastone-lined hulls. And that godawful, garish monstrosity the Numancia Flamingo had some quality craftsmanship as well as a crew that was perhaps too-capable of defending it, which must have driven poor Vice-Admiral Tsuru mad.

"Did you ever have to use them?" Soldat asks, just kind of idly curious while their body is busy stacking. "Deal with a sinking ship?"

"A few times, though not because the ship was sinking. A small rowboat like a lifeboat is useful for getting out to stranded people who might have been thrown overboard too far to reach a rope. Or just for getting to shore in bad weather or a rough harbor."

He fumbles a sandbag thanks to all this cursed mud, and it slumps back down the stairs and against his shin, producing an unsteady combination of flailing backward but not being able to actually step away due to being pinned in place. He braces himself against the wall abruptly to stay upright, causing one big muddy handprint to be slapped onto its surface, but he gets hold of his balance and tosses it back up this time.

Bad weather. Heh. "Sounds useful, then. Like when the ferry didn't have a dock and we had to unload on your little boat. Maybe we should run down to the docks and pull the raft ashore, for this," Soldat comments, waiting patiently for the sandbag, using the time to shove a couple closer together.

"I thought about that. The raft might work since the water's so shallow. The other two rowboats might scrape the ground."

Of course, the raft isn't exactly maneuverable, and if a slide full of debris comes its way it might just be wrecked, but the same is probably true where it's tied up anyway. If Soldat wants to take it out and use it, he won't object.

"Could especially be a helpful way to move someone who's injured," he adds.

"I'll see if I can bring it over, then," Soldat says, pleased at having had a good idea. If the water gets deeper, too, it could be invaluable. They just have to find the damn thing, and hope it's still in one piece. "Once we've finished here. And I've got the door off. And you some ice."

Because your lip is definitely swelling up, there, Rosi.

"Yeah, yeah." He sure hasn't forgotten, it's literally right in his face, but he's doing his best to ignore the dull throbbing pain for now, even though it twinges sharply any time he takes a step. Gravity never was his friend.

He tosses the last two sandbags up, one after another, then looks back toward the door to watch another wave of water as it rushes inside. Sure is a good thing they got all the food and other necessities off the floor earlier. "I'll get it, you don't need to do that for me," he sighs as he heads toward the bar's kitchen.

"So long as you do it." Someone does not always trust the people around them to actually look after themselves properly. Someone has Steve fucking Rogers as their prime example, with Sora coming in close second, and Fjord after that. People are idiots sometimes.

They get the last sandbag into place, survey their handiwork critically, then say, "I'll see about the door, then."

That insistence gets on his nerves quickly and he feels a prickle of angry heat at the back of his neck, but ignores it - and Soldat - as he goes to get the ice. Of course he's going to do it, he's already on his way. It's that attitude again that Soldat takes sometimes, as if Rosinante can't take care of himself, and it drives him crazy every time.

But for now he'll do his best to look past it as he sloshes through the muddy water on the floor, reaches for a clean bar towel, and packs it full of a handful of ice from the freezer. He winces a little as he presses it to his face, but soon the numbing sensation takes over, which is exactly what he needed. That done, he trudges his way back to the stairs, past Soldat as they head to the door, and starts up before the water can become an actual problem for him.

"Sure. I'm going to go clean up, unless you need a hand with it."

Whether luckily or unluckily, Soldat has spent that couple of moments collecting a screwdriver big enough for the task of door hinges, and thus misses any visible signs of annoyance. One of these days they'll work out why they get on Rosinante's nerves when they get protective, but today is not going to be that day.

So their voice is casual and relaxed as they slosh towards the door in question. "Nah, I got this. Thanks, though. Shouldn't take long, and I'll be back up. And maybe get dry finally."

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callada - 2020-05-08 23:42 (UTC) - Expand

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