useofcuriosity | PSL Box

Entry tags:

psl,
rp

PSL Box

Want to play a PSL or a Prompt? Me too! Lets DO IT. Give a prompt, a word, a picture. Or, start a scene with a fancy au. I'll tag you! It's neat! It's fun! GO JOE.

Examples:

Everyone shift to the left (your character is a werewolf? Now they're a banshee. Or a hunter. Whatever!)
Nogitsune Stuff
Grey's Anatomy Universe
Otherwordly

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not so much that she's leaning against him as they are leaning against each other. "All of this side's exits are flush against the ground. All of that side's exits are now the ceiling." She considers. "There might be emergency exits at the front or the back. There's definitely the cockpit windows."

And that's a good thing, since as soon as the adrenaline wears off, they're both going to crash in a totally different way. "Cockpit's probably the best bet."

She nods. "Let's go." She has to hobble, they're both in pain, and it's hard to ignore the cries of pain - and the corpses - of other passengers. Lydia's actually pretty single-minded about their goal, though. It's not that she doesn't want to stop and help people, it's that finding a way out first is the best way to help them in her eyes.

The pilot is, unfortunately dead. The co-pilot doesn't seem to be...anywhere, so Stiles is assuming that he got out. The window broken from the inside would seem to indicate this. "We can probably get out tht way..."

Lydia nods her agreement. "We need to help everyone who can get out too. And it's probably a bit of a drop down, too." But determinedly, albeit awkwardly, she heads back to the door to call down to the other living passengers to let them know there's a way out.

Suddenly, "Stiles! What happened to the cooler?"

Stiles winces, waiting for her to return. Tries to remember if he saw where the cooler landed. "I think it's waste by now. I don't think it's salvageable."

Lydia deflates a little, admitting, "You're probably right."

She heads for the door, sticking her head out to call out for others who might want to try the window. Then she looks back at him over her shoulder.

"We should stay and try and help the wounded."

Actually, she really wants to get the hell out of the plane, but they're doctors. They have an oath.

He nods. "We should try to get most of them out of the plane. The wounded."

"Okay."

She is so grateful for him right now. She doesn't know how to put it into words, but Lydia feels like if Stiles wasn't here, she'd probably be huddling in a corner unable to do anything but freak out. But right now, in this moment, she is motivated, and as long as he's on his feet, she can be on hers too.

She sticks her head through the door, calling on the able-bodied to start helping those wounded who they think they can realistically get out the window safely before dropping out of the cockpit to start helping.

He's pretty sure that if she weren't here, he'd be freaking out or in the middle of a panic attack. So maybe they're each other's anchors, or something. Like he keeps saying. Connected.

He's still pretty sure he did something nasty to his arm on the way down, but he keeps working on getting people out through the cockpit before moving to see if the radio is working at all.

The good thing about having a dad that's a sheriff? You know all the radio lingo.

People start climbing into the cockpit and heading out the window. Most of them seem eager to leave, and for obvious reasons.

The radio squawks and is fortunately still working. It won't be long before help arrives.

Lydia's head pokes through the cockpit door. "How's it going? Can you help me with the wounded?"

"Help's on it's way." Thank God. He didn't know if he could maintain calm if they'd had to stay her overnight. "Be right there."

"Thank God." she says, echoing his thoughts. "It might be better if we wait in the plan. It's shelter, and it's probably colder outside. What do you think?"

"The most injured, anyway, yeah. Keep them out of the elements. Is there food? Water?"

"I don't know. Do you think it's going to be so long that we need to worry about that? You were able to get the sheriff's office on the radio, right?"

Lydia immediately looks worried. Is this going to turn into an episode of Survivor?

He really hopes not. "I was, yeah. Deputy Graeme. She'll get someone out here. I know her." He wouldn't be surprised if Scott ends up coming with them. At all.

"Then I think we'll be okay regarding the food and water thing." Lydia says, adding wearily. "Can we...can we sit down now? Because I'd really like to sit down now."

"Yeah. Me too." Near the radio, he thinks, in case they get a call back.

"Where?" she asks tiredly. Shock is finally starting to set in. "I feel like I could sleep for days. Which is probably bad if I have a concussion. We should keep each other awake."

"Over here." He'll pull her over by the radio and help her sit. She can even have the chair. The free one. "We'll need x-rays. When we get back."

The plane is on its side, so the chairs aren't very sittable. But she finds a spot and tugs at him to sit down with her. "X-rays." she agrees. "Probably MRIs to check for concussions. Hydrocodone for the pain. How's your arm?"

"It hurts, but not...as much as I suspect it will later." Adrenaline and all that.

"Trip to ortho for you. You're going to make Erica's day." She smiles faintly noting, "You know, I think she has a thing for you. Sit with me." she repeats. "I just keep thinking...we couldn't have been that far from the airport. We'll be home in a few hours. Well. The hospital now, but that's practically home, isn't it?" She's getting a little rambly.

"Does she?" He sits down with her, smiling sort of vaguely. "It shouldn't be too long. If I could radio, we couldn't be that far. We'll be okay."

Immediately her fingers are laced into his, her free hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "The shock's setting in." she tells him gently, her head tilting to lean on his shoulder. "I think so." She's agreeing with him, albeit vaguely.

"What do you want to do when we get back?"

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