Day 008: Partius Interruptus
Summary: The Delinquent victory celebration is interrupted by a a shooting star — or something else.
Date: 12 May 2016
Related: Precedes It Fell From the Sky and Love
Delinquents Frankie Ruth Grey Faolan Cameron Max Fiona Hanne Quinn Cole Lip Mimi Layla Morgan Silas Cookie 

The Grounds, The Camp

With the removal of underbrush and a half-dozen small trees, there is now a tiny clearing around the dropship. It has begun to fill with detritus from the ship, including all of the seating, padding, and removable plates or bulkheads.

Several tents have been set up within the clearing, set close together within the confines of the surrounding trees. A small collection of weapons sits under a parachute-cloth shelter by the door of dropship, open for community use. A three-holer latrine is set up downwind of camp in the prevailing breezes, and the rough beginnings of a wall stretch between trees at the edge of the clearing, dropship plates and felled tree-trunks being stacked up as quickly as the Delinquents can manage.

The forest immediately surrounding the camp has been cowed into near-silence, but is still vibrant and green to a people used to stark metal bulkheads all around them.

8 Days After Landing

Much preparation is being done, and is almost done. Some of the kids from around the cook tent are putting the last touches on things, and the smell of food is wafting everywhere and drawing out kids from all corners of the camp. There's a few kids milling around just at the ramp of the dropship, holding what looks like a… football? It isn't really… more like someone's shirts rolled up and shaped into a football and them covered in a few feet of duct tape — something that will probably get them busted later, because what a waste of a limited resource. But there it is, and no one seems to be getting all mad about it yet.

The sun is sinking at this point, the shadows long. Evening will be coming soon enough, but for now the late afternoon warmth continues without a threat of rain or anything else that might sour the day.

Frankie looks at the cuts that Fiona is talking about "They don't look infected." she has been assuming that any immunizations they got prior to being launched would stop any infections i.e. tetanitus. She ooos at the mention of the ocean "I so want to see the ocean." and well everything else this world has to offer. There is a nod at Faolan's thanks and she sets the crown she is working on aside to grab her crutches and pull herself to her feet. "I'm going to pass out more of those cups before the party gets really going." she then hobbles away, pulling the tincan made tincups from her pouch and handing them out to anyone she passes.

A small fire a few ways from the dropship is occupied by a lounging Ruth, her makeshift sling lazily slung without any ammo inside. She's obviously practicing her technique, but it's not so easy when the weight of a stone isn't contributed to the activity. "It's getting a bit crowded out here," she tells a redheaded girl seated with her at the fire. Over the past day and a half, these two have pretty much exclusively claimed this spot and fire as theirs. There isn't a tent, but one of them is almost always guarding it at any point in time. "You can head inside, if you want. I'll stick around out here for a bit." The other girl obliges readily enough, moving on into the dropship around the makeshift footballers.

<FS3> Grey rolls Athletics: Good Success.

Grey is in the middle of that scrum at the base of the dropship ramp. "Whaddya think, first Super Bowl in ninety-seven years? 'Cause I think that it's been way the hell too long since Earth saw football." For those used to seeing angry or brooding Grey, this is an entirely different view of him, his features alive and bright. He nabs the ball away from the current carrier, ducking away from two pairs of outstretched arms, stopping for a moment before the woman leaving the conversation with Ruth, and then executing a perfect spin-move to dart around her. Of course, he's got the ball, and so a minor herd is following after him to get it back.

Faolan grunts and then relieves himself of his spear. He's got his sword and his knife still on him. "I'm going to eat," comes his clear and determined announcement. Eating trumps running around with a ball. Eating trumps being social. Eating would've even trumped Frankie's moonshine if there'd been any as of yet made. He rolls his broad shoulders to loosen them after the failed hunting trip that'd taken a good three hours of his day. He rolls towards the cooking. "If I could only at meat rest of my life, that'd be awesome." Juicy meat dripping of fat? Nothing on the Ark could compare in Faolan's mind.

<FS3> Cameron rolls Athletics: Failure.

Cameron is also over there in the scrum, his dimples showing with an almost gleeful sort of grin that wants to be a laugh. He doesn't do quite so great at it, his usual grace on his feet failing him, but he doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed by making a bit of a dolt of himself at the sport.

Ruth could certainly pipe up that needless physical activity will cause dehydration and eventually lead to another long walk to either the newly found panther caves or the lamprey river, but… she doesn't. At the moment, she's rather content in her spot, the goings-on providing entertainment that the regular lull of activity near the dropship fails to. "You're all weak!" she calls instead, grinning ear-to-ear. "Pound Grey." She has good intentions. Really.

From the cook tent, the foods start to emerge on big plates — or whatever you call heavily hammered dropship pieces. Venison and pig for protein, some greens and berries for carbs, and some cracked nuts for in-betweens. Water is being passed around, and some people are smashing berries into the bottom of their glasses to make something a bit more flavorful.

Around Grey, some of the other kids are bouncing on their heels nervously, but another is starting off after the boy with the ball in hopes of recovering it! For the game!

Max had been on the periphery for the better part of the last day and a half or more, patrolling, keeping an eye on things just outside of the camp, and having gone out hunting something or another earlier in the day. Now, he stands on the edge of things, just watching the preparations and the other delinquents as they move about the camp, leaning one shoulder against a tree. He has his pair of makeshift knives on him — doesn't really go anywhere without them.

Grey dodges one would-be tackler with a neat side-step, holding up the 'ball' in his left hand with abysmal ball security, "Gotta be quicker than that!" And then there are two people coming at him, and one gets him around the waist. As he starts to go down, the young man lofts the ball with two hands in Cameron's direction, "Lateral!" And then he hits the dirt with a heavy 'oof,' patting his tackler on the shoulder, "Good hit, good hit." Jocks be crazy.

<FS3> Cameron rolls Athletics: Good Success.

So there's stumbling and such, but when Grey tosses the ball to the side, Cameron manages to actually catch it and recover some of his usual deft-on-the-feetness. And then he does something appropriate to the sport, probably some sort of pass down the field a bit, before he laughs and waves and taps himself out, wiping a bit of sweat away from his brow, "Starving." he explains to the folk.

Fiona had been chatting with Frankie, at least until the other girl had to hobble inside. Fiona is sitting in one of the dropship seats that was pulled out. A container on one side of her has a mound of plucked flowers - the ones that glow at night - and with some spare wiring too stripped to be of US, she's making flower crowns. One is already on her head.

"Oh, good, food." There's a mixture of eagerness and discomfiture in Ruth's tone, even as she lolls forward onto her feet from her comfort by the fire. She presses the back of her hand against her nose as she approaches the display, her brows raised a bit. "Okay, neat." She claims herself a bunch of berries and nuts, likely more than the willowy girl could stomach all at once. She notably ignores the meat entirely.

Grey pushes himself up from his place on the ground, stripping off his newly-filthy shirt, using it to dab sweat off his face, and slinging it over one shoulder. Waving the football… scrum… off away from the main area of fires, he meanders over to the armory and collects his baton in its bandoleer, tucking his knife into the back of his belt and the bandoleer under his arm as he heads back to the fires — and the food.

As afternoon starts to slip into earliest evening, a few of the delinquents have gathered containers, sticks, whatever they could find that might work, and begin to pound out a rhythm that prompts a few delighted shouts and movement.

Hanne has claimed one of the displaced dropship chairs, and has made herself a plate of meat and berries. She is chatting with a few of the girls she used to bunk with in the dropship before Quinn moved her out to the tents. She is munching and chatting, and looking generally happy — which is kinda nice for a change. She tilts her head back a bit as the scrum comes past with the makeshift ball. In passing, her gaze lands on Grey and she offers him a small wave — a bit shy and awkward, but hey, gotta make progress somehow.

The flower crown on Fiona's head and the ones in her basket begin to glow as it starts to get dark, and Fiona gets to her feet, picking it up. "Hanne!' she calls out with a laugh, and tosses the other girl a wreath.

"Guess you can't even chill enough to eat," Ruth observes of Grey, the berry popped in her mouth mostly keeping a sardonic grin at bay. "I think it's okay, Grey. Don't we have scouts out there making sure no Grounders get near our camp?" The question is swiftly followed by a lighthearted shrug.

Since rescue Quinn has been mostly laying around, through no actual laziness this time, but instead as a by-product of needing to heal. But today she's been up and moving around, dressed in the newly acquired Grounder shirt that she's cut down and made to fit, plus the jacket and armor, and sword. She's heading back towards the area around the dropship from the woods, having escaped out there for something.

Cameron helps himself to some meat, and two berries. Just two. Not because he's rationing or anything like that, but instead because he's really had a lot of berries lately, and meat, growl. Lifting some up to his mouth he gnaws contentedly, purses his lips, and heads over towards Max, "Hey, Max. Happy Victory Day." He pauses, and adds wryly, "Is anyone clear on what the actual *date* is so that we can remember to celebrate next year? The first new Ground Holiday."

Grey glances down at the weapon under his arm at Ruth's question, shrugging a little helplessly, "Yeah, we got scouts on, but if they spot anything, I don't wanna have to go looking for my weapons." His smile flashes broad across his lips, "And hey, me carryin' means you don't have to, right?" He catches sight of Hanne's wave, and lifts an arm in greeting to her too. His smile may falter just a touch, but it's barely noticeable, and he turns his smile back to Ruth, "That's what I'm here for, right? Well, that and murder." He tries to turn that into a joke, chuckling easily.

Faolan is on the food, and has been since they started coming out. He's plopped himself down on the ground with a big plate of it, and it may just be his second plate already, and don't look at him like that! He's big and he's hungry damn it! Meat juices trickle down his chin and his jaw from the effort to gnaw it in, and no proper utensils to use anyway. Its greasy and its messy and he makes sounds in the back of his throat like he's having a series of mouth-orgasms, one after the other, and all he wants afterwards is to lay down and smoke a cigarette.

Cole is…what do you think? What else would he be doing? The man is working on the wall. Told the people that work with him to take the day off for the celebration, enjoy themselves. Eat, drink, get laid, whatever. See, he's not a horrible boss, he gives days off on things. Granted, the work he can do isn't a whole lot since they're not at the stage where it requires more than one person to do much of anything substantial, but there's still stuff he can do. Because the idea of 'relaxing' isn't something he's ever been used to. Even on the Ark. There was always work to do, something to be done. Not doing work means you start thinking about stuff. And the mechanic hates thinking about stuff that's not work.

There's Lip. Well, maybe he's been here for a while or maybe he hasn't. It's weird because he's not really saying anything. In fact, he's kind of trying to stay out of the line of sight of anyone that he may know more than anyone else. Which is weird because he usually wants to be the center of attention. He's also got this glare on his face as he just looks out at those that are dancing around and wreathing and scrumming and whatever else means having a good time. And so his muttering begins, "… bullshit. This is bullshit." Lip rolls his eyes and turns to look at the Dropship. "When Lip says throw a party nobody wants to throw a party. Soon as I stop wanting to throw a party, they throw a party. I say again: Bullshit." This muttering is loud enough to hear, of course, because Lip doesn't actually know how to be quiet or talk lowly. Oh, Lip. He's so the drama right now.

Ruth spares a glance in Cole's direction, her weight shifting onto one leg so she can scratch her ankle with the hand not cupping berries and nuts against her person. "If it gets to that, I'll have to anyway because it's not like you ex-cads can do everything on your own," she reminds Grey, keeping her tone lighthearted. "Watch. One of these days, I'm going to save your ass. Or that of any one of you machos."

"Lip…" Hanne says as she picks up the boy's complaints, "You know that we really threw this party because of you… you inspire us, but we're slow and dumb, so it took us a while to catch on to how awesome your idea was." The nerd brightens at the curly-haired boy, offering him one of her signature smiles before she swings her legs out of her chair and stands. She saunters up to him, her raggedy sneakers scuffing up dirt as she goes. Then she offers him a berry in a placating gesture.

Max catches sight of Cameron as he makes his way over and nods in greeting. "Hey," he says to Cam once he's close enough and then shakes his head, "Should have a historian. In case we live that long." Kind of grim for Victory day, but there's teh faintest hint of humor in the dryness of it that might indicate that he's kidding. He nods back out toward the crowd and says, "It's good to see folks happy."

Regardless of whether or not Hanne catches the wreath or not, someone will pick it up and it'll go on someone's head. Fiona weaves her way in through the kids now dancing with the drums, no surprise her hips don't lie (maybe they fib a little) but ultimately she winds up behind Lip, and suppressing a chuckle, she drops a flower wreath onto his curly head. Awww.

Mimi steps out from the dropship. Little charms dangling on her bracelet she puts a hand to her hair to brush it out a bit. A small frown of disapproval at the goings-on. She rests her hands behind her rear as she surveys the ferociously happy carnage. "This is not what I would expect to see for when we are invaders in an enemy's territory. We have certainly given away our position with this…" a pause for the search of a correct describing word. "Revelry."

Grey laughs at Ruth's response, "I don't doubt it. There's only a half-dozen of us anyhow. We can't be everywhere. Even if we try to be." There's a pause, his expression sobering, and he holds out a hand to the woman, "Sorry about the other day in the woods. I'm an asshole, and I was tense." Tenser than now. "No hard feelings?" The continued beat of the drums, as sporadic and unsyncopated as it is, still begins to get to Grey, and one foot begins to tap.

"If the Grounders didn't know where we were the day we landed, then they've scouted us out since, or they're the most incompetent scouts in he history of scouting, which I think is unlikely." remarks Cameron towards Mimi with a bit of an amused expression, before he turns a broader grin towards Max, "Good idea. But that would probably take paper. Man, I miss some paper. Or paint. I am going to try to make paint. I am not very sure how to /begin/ that project, but its going to be something of a hobby thing, I think."

Cole spares a glance to all the goings on with the party, there's a moment where he might drop his makeshift hammer and go and join them. Though it just seems a bit…odd? Is odd the right word? Probably not, but it's the best word he can think of. The most of what he's doing is sitting at the stair to the wall walk. Just a bit of wooden framework.

"Hey! Hey! I could be allergic! Don't be messing with The 'Do!" Lip whirls around at catches sight of both Hanne and Fiona at the same time. "… to flowers /or/ berries! Especially, /these/ kind!" Lip raises a hand to flick at the flower wreath on his head but definitely not enough to even knock it askew. "And /THESE/!" Lip then reaches out to snatch that berry from Hanne's hand and raises it up to the sky. "If I die by way of berry, I'm gonna' be so pissed. You have no idea. I will haunt this entire camp. You are not even ready." And even though he might be ranting at the moment because that's what he does. He eats the damn berry! "And another thing. I know you're trying to manipulate me right now. Mmm. Both of you, mmm?" Lip blinks a little bit and chews a bit more. "… shit. This is actually working. Why is this berry so damn good?" More quick chewing. "What was I mad about, again?"

"Looks like you're starting to get a bit more laid-back about things, then," Ruth notes with some measure of approval, her chin ticking upwards just slightly in acknowledgement. Her answering grin is broad and seemingly sincere as she clasps his lower arm with her hand. She's certainly forward in her response. "All good! I'll give you lenience since that was only a few days after we'd been shoved off the station to our probable deaths." It's her turn to laugh, a rather uncouth sound. At least /this/ is undoubtedly sincere. No one would fake a laugh that weird.

Layla found Faolan, because how can you miss the snorting, grunting buffalo in the midst of the hullabaloo? Within her hands is her own plate of food, though the portion is considerably less than what a normal teenage male would even find worthy of a snack. Standing before him, she watches him eat (if that's even the best word to use), with something like astonishment.

"If I sit beside you, do I risk my plate or an arm?" It's meant to be teasing, but Layla isn't the best joker in the world, so really it sounds as if she's genuinely concerned he'll take her food. Still, she doesn't wait for an answer before plopping down beside him.

"Whittle stuff into tree bark," Max suggests to Cameron, "Or chisel it into stone," he adds helpfully as alternative artforms to those requiring paper and ink. He reaches out a hand and clasps Cameron's shoulder for a moment, a companionable squeeze and a faint smile appearing briefly. "I'm going to go take a look around, see if the noise has attracted anything. I'll be back." Then he pushes off from the tree that he had been leaning against and makes his way out, away from the light of the fires for a while.

Cameron nods reasonably to Max, and then as he departs offers a bit of a wave, as he continues with the eatings of meats. His eyes find Lip and he blinks, a grin rising until it dimples in a smile at the young man's … mood swing, which leaves him snickering.

"Nothing," Hanne says brightly before she offers Lip another berry. "But I think you were totally about to suggest that we need music of some kind, and then ask me to dance." She fixes him with a look. "I'm pretty darn sure that was your next step. Because that's what a party needs, right?" She finally takes a wreath and tucks it over her curly hair with a light tug.

Despite there being several people present that she normally talks to, Quinn finds herself a place to sit that is away from the group as a whole. She drops herself into it, making herself comfortable for the long haul, watching the rest mill around doing all the things.

Faolan looks up at Layla when she talks to him. He doesn't immediately respond, too busy finishing chewing and then swallowing. Belatedly he becomes aware of the fact he has a face full of a meat juices. He has no napkin, so he uses his dirty and sweaty t-shirt to do the trick. So now it will smell of meat for days. "Uh. Sit. I only almost promise I won't eat either your arm or your plate. This was so good. How is meat so good? If I could eat nothing but meat the rest of my life, I'd die happy." Its said with a slow exhale. After a moment he asks: "How you been?" While Layla sits next to him, he looks around the festivities, really for the first time. He was too busy eating before to boter.

Mimi stares at Cameron for a moment. "This is likely a bad idea. I want it noted that I beleive this is a bad idea." Moving over past Lip she comments to him "You are far too loud. There is a high likelihood you will give away your position at any point with the loudness of your voice and the freqency of it's use." Continuing she moves over towards the meats considering taking one, putting her finger on a piece then holding it to her nose to sniff it rather plainly a few times.

"C'mon Lip, Hanne." Fiona sets her basket to the side, so people, boys, girls, whoever, can take flower crowns as it pleases them, and gestures to the throng. "Come dance!" She is well prepared for the prospect of him dancing like a spaz. Mimi gets an eyeroll.

Grey looks over at the ranting and raving of The Lip, rolling his eyes, but chuckling as he looks back to Ruth, "Dude's in love with the sound of his own voice." Pot, kettle, black. Shrugging at the young woman, he adds, "Thanks. Dunno about more laid back. Just tryin' to figure out where I fit in this new world."

"We'll all figure it out eventually," Ruth figures, blithe as ever. She follows Grey's gaze towards Lip and chews on the inside of her cheek. She begins to awkwardly shuffle in place to the beat of the drum and the general exuberance of the event. She never attended any of the covert dances and other such things held by the other teenagers, some of them now on the ground now, but tries her best. It's contagious. She's eating her nuts and berries all the while. "… tomorrow, maybe. For now, the sunset is pretty and my fire is still going."

"I have been adequate," Layla replies, not bothering to share the host of miseries that have plagued her since being ejected from the sterile, albeit harsh world they were born into. Such as being cold, damp, more hungry than usual, frightened by the known and unknown, and dirty. These were hardships she endured like the rest, and did her best to ignore them by focusing on that which she could make a difference in.

"I'll refrain from making any of the common observations regarding you, and only say that you ''will'' allow me to look over your arm later." Layla leaned closer to Faolan just a bit, but not before popping a bit of meat into her mouth, making whatever she said next only half-intelligible.

The sound of his work can only go on for so long, though something occurs to Cole. As he's hammering against the wood, it makes a specific sound. A deep reverberating one. This gets a lip quirk from him, like a caveman witnessing fire for the first time. "Idea…" he says, as if the proverbial light bulb has just lit up above his head. Getting he starts arrange things on him, tapping at a piece of metal here, pulling over one of the totes that used to hold scrap together, dumping it out. It's turned over, patting the flat top of it. For all of his mechanical know-how, the man is somewhat musically inclined, bringing back shades of something he used to do in the workshops he'd be sequestered into. But he's making sounds, most of them rythmic, as if testing how each sounds and then applying that to others. He's working on /something/ not wall-related. So…it's a mild improvement.

Morgan appears in the entrance to the ship and looks around. It's warm enough so he left the Grounder's jack in medbay and he's only warn the torn, bloodstained shirt to visit the Grounder so he's bare chested except for the bandage. The grounder sword is sheathed at his hip cause not to wear it under the circumstances seems like a really stupid idea. Lots and lots are people are present but he's only looking for one at the moment and as soon as he spots Cameron, he weaves his wave through the crowd over to him.

"… Now that's what I'm talking about!" Whatever bug that was up Lip's ass has flown off somewhere else because he's focused on the two girls that have decided to pay him some attention. He has moved on from being the Sulky Version of himself before he just starts with the dancing. Dancing that is completely horrible. Even more horrible than horrible. He's so far off beat that the beat doesn't even exist when he's moving. He doesn't even know if there's any music or drums or whatever. It doesn't matter. He's getting to dance with two babes. "LIP SANDWIIIIIICH!" Yeah, this isn't going to end well. He may either be eating the newly offered berry or just holding it in his hands as he gets his Ed Grimley moment on.

"Is there a double-meaning there, Ruth?" Grey laughs easily, then shrugs off the import of the question. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm gonna dance." And then he half-turns, offering out a hand in invitation to Ruth. Even as he does, he tucks his shirt and baton down behind a log-seat.

"Adequate?" Faolan tastes that word. It's not exactly full of description. "Uh, good to hear it?" It really does come out as a question. When Layla leans a bit closer, he subconsciously scoots a bit away again. While trying to make it seem like he isn't. "It's nothing. Look at some of the people who, you know, need the medical attention." He clears his throat, and whatever she whispered in his ear at the end of her demand for his arm makes him frown. "Uh.." She gets his arm. Out of the five incisions he's cut into his forearm, four are neat and parallel lines, and one is a bit wobbly. That's the one that looks a bit inflamed. He mutters something nigh-intelligible under his breath. At piece of meat stuck in his mouth gives him an excuse not to say anything more, and he chews while looking out across the kids who're making to dance.

As Morgan comes over all sans shirt, Cameron's expression turns rather openly appreciative. It's a view Cam seems not to tire of, and then he's smiling, dimples showing, "There you are." he greets, finishing off the slice of meat he was eating, then licking his fingers and wiping his hands on his pants. "You missed the football game-ish. I didn't win. Food's good, Cookie outdid herself." At this he grins once again.

Reaching for his tool bag, Cole picks out two of his wrenches, tapping them against metal of varrying sizes, getting a feel for how they sound. Then a log. Then the turned over tote. Slowly it's coming together, hitting each on different spots, understanding what makes the best sound and where. And there's perhaps a grin on his face, as if proud of himself for thinking of something that have an actual useful purpose beyond enjoyment. It allows him to give off a series of childish giggles. Arranging the 'instruments' in way that allow him the best reach, he spins the wrenches between his fingers like drumsticks. He starts off slow, hitting the low bassy sounding tote. Then adds in a hollow tree branch. A peice of metal then. Eventually it all turns into something rythmic, something worth dancing to. Like a primitive Neil Pert(he stands alone, by the way), he has constructed a crude, very crude, but working drumset out of literal junk.

"You tell me!" Ruth bids of Grey over the sound of the general clamor, most of the camp likely by now drawn to the noise that Cole is now adding to the atmosphere and the smell of cooked meat and sweaty teenagers. "That sounds suspiciously like fun!" She tells the man as he tests his adhoc drumset, even as she joins Grey in dancing. In all, she's not /awful/. She's no Lip, to be certain. She's just having fun.

"If it's for your own good," Layla says in a firm tone as she takes his arm, though she was sorely tempted to tell him she had said ''later.'' Hello, maybe she wanted to eat some meat while it was still piping hot, too. But no… no. She's looking over those wounds with a practiced eye. "I'd not have figured you to be the self-mutilating type. This one here," the pad of her finger just barely hovered over that wobbly line. "We'll apply some of the Grounder medication to this later. I have a plan, you see."

His arm is now his own again, and Faolan can return to munching away without fear. Layla, too, resumes eating, surveying those gathered around.

Mimi takes a hesitant nibble of the meat she has and settles into one of the makeshift seating. She holds a hand to her ear when certain people start banging around making music/noise. "Too Loud." she states, not that anyone is paying attention.

Morgan puts an arm around Cam and leans in for a kiss. "I had a few things to take care of. Sorry you didn't win. If it'll make you feel better, you can tackle me later and score." He looks around then leans in close to say softly "Keep an eye out. If it was me, I'd attack now."

<FS3> Cameron rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Grey rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Ruth rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Morgan rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Fiona rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Hanne rolls Alertness: Great Success.
<FS3> Faolan rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Layla rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Cole rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Mimi rolls Alertness: Failure.
<FS3> Quinn rolls Alertness: Failure.

Cameron leans into Morgan's arm, and then into the kiss. He's clearly rather into doing more of that, but he does laughs softly at the offer, his grin turning positively wicked. He looks only a little more serious then happy when he nods, "Don't worry, I'm paying attention. My sword's just over there, knife in back. Ready just in case." And then he looks up, blinking, and lifting a hand up to cover his eyes a bit and tilting his head to the side, "What's that?" he wonders aloud.

"I'm not a self-mutilating type," Faolan mutters at Layla defensively. He tugs on his arm like he's done giving into her med-tech ways. "I was.. it was.. listen, it's nothing. I'll be fine." He tugs a bit harder, then suddenly something in the sky is catching his attention. He puts his plate of food down as he gets up to his feet. If Layla is still attached to his arm, she'll be pulled up with him whether she wants to or not. He squints at the distance. "What's that?" He echoes Cameron's words exactly.

Fiona laughs and laughs at Lip like he's the best ever, but eventually her own moves carry her away and over to Layla and Faolan, and to the latter she holds out her hands. "Hey Fey, co - what's that?" Is there an echo here?

"I'm good with fun." Grey's laughing words are accompanied by a display demonstrating that he is not a particularly good dancer. It's not that he's bad, just unpracticed. Finding himself in the midst of so many dancing women, his grin broadens. It appears that except for Lip and Grey, the young men of the camp have not learned that dancing is a great way to be surrounded by women. His laughter rises higher into the darkening air, mixing with the banging of drums and the thonking of the Cole-o-phone.

Quinn's oblivious to everything. It's possible that her closing her eyes has, in fact, turned into her falling asleep despite all the celebration that's happening around her.

The shooting star streaks across the slowly darkening sky, but instead of just dissipating like normal, it continues to get bigger and brighter. It is streaking toward the east, and its appears to be getting faster and faster along its trajectory.

Apparently, Cole doesn't see jack, but that makes sense. He actually seems to understand exactly what he's doing with his impromptu drum set, laying down phat dance beats. If he gets someone lucky because he got them grooving, well…he'll have something to be proud over.

Welp, up Layla goes. Kind of. It was only so she didn't dump her food on the ground. Maybe Faolan might eat it with some dirt on there, but she'd not. There's some sort of squeaking protest as it happens, but then with everyone looking towards the sky, Layla can't help but look also.

And…there it is. "Well, then," was all she could really muster.

Mimi stands and heads back into the dropship. The hustle and bustle isn't something she gets along well with - especially in large groups, and she seems to miss the 'event' entirely that happens above.

"What's what?" Morgan asks and looks to see where Cam is looking. "Huh." is his comment when he sees the streak across the sky. "I wonder if they are dropping another ship on another part of the planet?" Maybe so many people taking off their bracelets convinced them the east coast was too dangerous.

"Hey! Look at that!" Ruth crows, weaving and bobbing with the music still as she indicates the shooting star with a jab of her finger to the sky. Her tongue briefly catches between her teeth. "That's pretty fast-moving, for space." And, no, she doesn't mention making a wish on it or anything. She's not a huge superstition nerd. Or, if she is, she won't reveal it here.

"Is that from the Ark?" Faolan asks aloud. He scratches his jawline, then grins. HE's not the most mechanically or scientifically sound brains in the camp, and doesn't really consider the speed or the direction that big of an issue. They'd miss their landing mark, too, right? "Reinforcements? Man, what I wouldn't do to have a rifle right now." Their whole grounder scenario would change completely.

Cameron rubs lightly at his bracelet when Morgan mentions it, absently, his eyes tracing the path of the 'star', "If they were sending it down, shouldn't it be deploying a parachute? Hitting the ground fast is bad. I'm not a physicist but I know that. Maybe something fell off the Ark. Or was tossed off." He seems curious, but not overly concerned with what it might be.

Grey looks up at Ruth's call and point, his feet stilling for a moment before he cheers aloud, a wordless shout of joy. And then he laughs, "Hey look at the shooting star!" If he knew more about astronomy, he'd know that it doesn't look like most other shooting stars. Sadly, all he can say is, "Everybody make a wish! Mine's for a fully-loaded squadie," Squad Automatic Weapon in this case, "With reloads."

Its arc shortens as it no longer follows the curvature of the earth. It then abruptly drops down below the treeline surrounding the camp to the east, and within a second, there is a loud whistling roar that signals its violent impact. A quick assessment makes one thing pretty easy to determine: it wasn't very big, and it didn't fall very far from the camp.

Once everyone starts pointing and looking up, Cole slowly stops his beating of his drums, turning around in his spot to walk over and get a good view of whatever everyone else is looking at. "That's not a fuckin shooting star." he says aloud. "That was something else. A satellite or fuckin debris that finally got pulled into lower goddamn orbit." A pause. "Or a goddamn ship moving through atmo."

Tossed off? Morgan glances at Cam then back up into the sky. "Well, it wasn't a person. A body wouldn't have hit the ground." Isn't that a nice thought? Every shooting start might be someone they knew being floated. The Earth's gravity would drag all the bodies in sooner or later. "That didn't sound too far away. And is the opposite direction of the Grounders' camp."

Quinn's eyes flick open when the commotion starts, and she's getting to her feet fairly quickly. For as relaxed as she was a moment okay, she's equally as tense now. She glances around, then begins to move towards Grey.

There's a pause of thought, and then Cam is reluctantly pulling away from Morgan to head the few feet over to where he stashed his things. He's pulling on his grounder armor before he's really even given it any thought, "Well, I'm going to go see what it is. Maybe Jaha relented and sent us some supplies." After a moment, he barks out a quick, harsh laugh. Yeah, right.

Whatever it is, its loud whistling roar preceding its impact is enough to draw Cookie out of the Cooking Tent. Wiping her hands clean along the sides of her cargo pants, she asks the nearest person, "What was that noise?"

"Let's go see," Layla urges Faolan. Ever braver when beside the guy who had proven his use in battle. It must take a murderer to see the good in another murderer, eh? The air stirred the hair around her face. Having overheard Morgan, Layla nods. "Yeah, it didn't sound far."

"Oh… shit." Cole's language is contagious. Or perhaps Ruth just has a bit of a startle herself and it slips out. Either way, she stops dancing and steps in its general direction, squinting upwards as it comes down. "Did someone die?" It's her initial guess, and a sobering one at that. Then, in macabre taste, "We should go see."

"They resupplied us! I told you they'd be coming down, didn't I?" Faolan, ark loyalist to a fault, sounds utterly excited about the prospect. Then he frowns, because that's not a gentle landing. That's a damn explosion. His elation becomes horror. "Shit. What if it had people in it or something? A pilot." He looks towards Layla, nods. Though it pains him, because he wanted to eat meat today until he was told he could have no more, he prepares to go check. He leans down to take all the meat left on his plate with him, though.

It sounds like maybe Grey's wish is going to be granted, even if his assumption is way off-base. When the streak continues to grow, and then there's the whistle and roar, his eyebrows shoot up, "Woah!" Surprise and shock paint his features, and he looks around, spotting Quinn getting closer through the crowd, "Damn it, if that's resupply, we gotta get there. There's still plenty of people here who shouldn't touch a gun."

"Hold on, if it was a fuckin satellite, there's a goddamn chance it might be radioactive. More than a couple of old-ass satellites that shit in them get powered. If you're gonna go, be fuckin careful." That said, Cole grumbles, moving back to this drumset to pack away his tools. If it's something important that needs to be opened, he'll be the one to do it. "If it's debris there could be other kinds of nasty shit. And if it's a ship…well, that's a whole /other/ fuckin issue."

Morgan looks over to Faolan and rolls his eyes. Resupply. Right. He nods at Cole's caution. "Not to mention that other Grounders could live in that direction and be headed there now."

Cassandra isn't one for crowds. While everyone else is out partying, she's been lurking inside the Dropship, having snagged herself a piece of meat and decided to take this opportunity for some early rest and an early start. She was already curled up in a makeshift bedroll, despite having her own tent outside, when that loud whistling roar came crashing into the Earth, a sound unlike anything heard since they themselves made contact with it. And so she's now climbing out over the steel gate, chewing her meal and squinting curiously to figure out what the fuss is all about. Stray words among the many catch her ears: 'resupply', 'satellite' and 'shooting star' among them. Whatever's being talked about, it's clear to her that it isn't celebration. She's already retrieving her gear on, Asher's stolen knife and Unnamed Dead Grounder's machete included.

"You mean like the ground is?" calls Cameron to Cole over his shoulder, pulling up his sword, slipping it into his makeshift sling, "Someone's gotta go check it out. We don't know, but it landed too close to us for it to be a random thing falling out of the sky, I think. The earth is big. Space is hugely huge hugetastic. Either its more of us or a resupply or some … /something/. No idea. Have to see to find out. Before the Grounders get it."

"Agreed." Not to mention getting there before any more Grounders turn up. Quinn glances back upwards, then towards the direction it landed before she shrugs, "Only way to handle this is to get moving, and get moving now." Which, honestly, easy for her to say, she's wearing everything she probably needs.

Silas comes fumbling out from the entrance into the camp, holding a handful of bone-needles and his sword bobbing at his side from a small bark fiber cord. "Guys? Am I going fucking insane?" he asks, practically shouting with wide eyes and raised brows as he looks over towards all of those celebrating, shoving away the partially done and somewhat undone needles into his pant pocket as he looks to everyone- and just from a glance can realize they saw what he saw. "Why does everything bad have to happen when things start getting fucking good?" he growls loudly, hands coming over to grab handfuls of his hair before he lowers his hands down to his side as he looks back tot he entrance, seemingly waiting for everyone to start funneling out and towards the crash-site.

Layla wasn't about to abandon her plate of food, either. Maybe it seems foolish, but she figured she could eat as much as she could on the way to the crash site without anything going to waste. She wasn't the one loaded down with melee weapons, and would be useless with them in any case. She would have called out her agreement with Cameron regarding radioactivity, but saw no reason to add to the accumulating shouts and questions from those who hadn't been in attendance when the crash happened.

She doesn't have anything to say to Faolan's hopes, either. Poor man.

Grey nods to Quinn, "Maybe split up? You cover the camp, or you and Max go with one group, I'll go with another? Since we should send a couple of search parties." Even as he talks, he starts moving over to where he stashed his shirt and his club, pulling on first one and then the other.

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