Ensign Jaran Jira - Will The Rocks Crack First?
Jira Jaran
Somewhere Between The Edge of the Forest and the Mouth of the Gorge - Callis I))
((5.75 hours after Crash))
Silveira: Don’t wander off, we will be right back.
Ava nodded towards both of them, frustrated that she couldn't help them for now. All she could do was watch as they went on their search.
Munro: Am I fit for duty, Doc?
She rolled down her undershirt, and began to lay her tunic carefully so that it may dry.
Jira smiled at Ava’s playful banter back.
Jaran: If I thought a bruise could keep you down, I’d be far more worried than I am right now.
It would be a lie to say they weren’t worried. But Jira had come to trust both in Munro’s decision-making ability and tenacity. They would get through this.
Munro: We should dry our clothes as much as we can once we have a fire going.
Jira removed their soggy wet outerwear and took the proffered blanket from the commander, wrapping themself while she did the same. The dryness was a strange thing to take comfort in, but they did nonetheless. When the world around was sodden, lack of… moist was civilisation.
Jaran: You know, I’d almost gotten used to being a little bit wet after Ferenginar. Do we have to let them dry?
Munro winced again while pulling the blanket around herself.
Munro: :: joking :: You don't happen to have any strong drugs on you, Doc?
Jira thought about the med kit. There was a strong tranquiliser in one of those vials, but they doubted she needed it. She was sore, and the only cure was some time and levity
Jaran: ::pulling out the root they’d collected earlier:: Two options: you can chew on this and see if it has any undiscovered analgesic qualities, or I can knock you out with the anesthizine in this pack completely. Take your pick, and I take no responsibilities for anything you do under the influence.
Ava shook her head and waved her hand.
Munro: I would never live it down. Not for a, what did you call it? An echomossa?
Jaran: ::idly:: Ecchymosis. Bruise. Enkuram. Wadi-yarek. Ouchie.
Jira was glad for the jovial company, but they felt the anxiety settling in. They’d been doing a pretty good job of not letting the seriousness of the situation settle in, and resting could let their thoughts go wild. Better to keep up conversation and not worry about it until they had to.
There was a loud sound overhead that could only have been what they’d seen as a red flash of lightning grounding itself on the yellow rock. Since they weren’t immediately burned to a cinder, it seemed like the plan to hide here was working.
Jaran: ::looking up:: Well, we’re not dead. That’s a good sign.
Munro: Response
Jira poked around in the dark yellow and brown dirt under them, drawing a few lines without much thought.
oO Oh no. Too much sitting. The thoughts are starting. Oo
Jaran: So. ::beat:: What’s… ummm… ::beat:: what’s the plan, commander?
Munro: Response
They supposed that would do for now. The anxieties passing through their mind would have to be content.
oO Small comfort, Jira. You left everything on the Artemis. Even your shrine. Oo
No, that wasn’t comfort. Why were they thinking of that just now? Why was that a small comfort? Guiltily, they realised they hadn’t even considered thanking the Prophets for helping them survive the crash or asking for their help to find safety in this strange land. They hadn’t had a single thought of praying for the safety of their crewmates still out in the storm.
With a motion almost like the panicked scurry of a beast, they moved themselves into the posture of prayer. Self-consciously, they looked to Munro.
Jaran: With your permission, Commander, I would like to pray. I believe we’re out of immediate danger, and this is important to me. I recognise it’s not to protocol.
Munro: Response