everything's on fire

[krasnaya_vdova]

who: Everyone!
what: The residential building is on fire
when: ~2am, August 23rd
where: The Residential building
warnings: Fire, destruction of property, injury, general warnings for crisis situations



It's a reasonably quiet night, pleasantly dry with a slight breeze. Almost nice, for those that enjoy the hours after midnight long before dawn starts to creep on the horizon. Right until it isn't, when the air changes, and there's the scent of heat that promises smoke. In most places it starts with a flash of blue light that arcs from floor to floor as energy pulses through the building, and there's a crack of sound that follows. The power dies for a moment, and if you're one of the unlucky ones, the light that follows is a literal spark in the dark, burning to life in bright orange-red, yielding heat and smoke and trouble. The energy surge doesn't just hit the lights, but sparked flames that burst to life, and they catch quickly, spreading.

The worst of it starts on the ninth floor, where the smoke and the beginning of heat starts moments before the surge. The fire spreads faster there, people starting to startle awake and realize what's happening as the flames crackle. Eventually there's an announcement on the Network, both alerting people to what's happening and trying to organize both those that are willing to help and those that need it.

Some areas are untouched, while others are ravaged badly, reduced to ashes and crumbling ceilings, so watch your step. There's chaos, but through it there's people doing what they can to help each other, and the official fire services show up to help control the blaze. After that, it's just a matter of repairing the damage that's been done, rebuilding and putting things back together, seeing what's been lost and what was saved.

Even later, people start putting the pieces together, and there's the official investigation into what might have caused a fire like that in the first place.


[ooc: As promised, the residential building is on fire! OOC plotting post is here if anyone wants to work out some last minute plans before diving in. Plotting post also includes the relevant details. Elsewise, just top level and mingle. Try not to get burned too badly. :) Good luck!]

Comments

iii

[wingedman]

She might not be letting the medics near, but Sam manages to approach, stopping a couple feet short when he sees her body language. He deliberately leaves her room for personal space.

"I got a blanket, if you're cold." He holds it up to show her. The August night is warm enough, but the blanket is more for shock than chill, to be honest. And he doesn't expect someone like Natasha to get cold easily, but shock? Yeah, that's another matter entirely.

"You mind if I sit?" He gestures to a planter next to hers, keeping his voice calm and level. It's absolutely the tone he uses with patients who are having an episode, because something is pretty clearly Not Right here. Whether it's immediate trauma or something she's kept buried or a combination of both, Sam can't say, but he's not going to let her go through it alone.

[unmakeme]

Cold. Is she cold? It's the wee hours of the morning, but it's also summer weather, and there was a massive building fire that's still smouldering in places. She shouldn't be cold. She should be too warm. Still, she shivers when he mentions it. Why would-- Her hand moves to sweep some of her hair behind her ear, and on the way encounters the scarf she had wrapped around her face. She's re-saturated it many times over the course of the night, and while it's no longer soaking wet, it is still wet. And cold. That must be why. She lets the weight of her hand falling into her lap drag it off of her neck, and then releases it to hit the floor between her feet with a sad plop.

"Sure," she finally says, in response to both the blanket and the request to sit, hand extended to accept it. She'll be warm soon enough, she's sure, now that the wet scarf is gone. Might do something for modesty, though, considering she's more or less in her underwear. Or maybe she'll sit on it. The stone planter is cold. Cold. Maybe that's why she's cold. It needs a logical reason.

[wingedman]

Sam settles down on the planter next to Natasha's, passing the blanket over to her. He watches her with a cautious gaze, like he half expects her to snap. He wouldn't make the mistake of ever calling her fragile; instead, she makes him think of a spring with the tension wound too high. One touch, and everything might fly into pieces.

"Talk to me, Natasha. About anything." He doesn't go straight for whatever's bothering her, but it's like lancing a wound, relieving the pressure in any way he can. And maybe, if given long enough, she'll talk her way around to what's bothering her.

(It's Natasha. She might not.)

[unmakeme]

She drapes the blanket over her shoulders, still folded in half because she didn't manage to shake it all the way out. Her eyes are still tracing the portions of the building that are completely burned out, blackened steel frame work barely visible against the night sky.

"Talk?" She looks over at him, raises an eyebrow. "You got uncomfortable hugging me, remember? I don't think you want to hear what's going on in my head right now." It's his job, and she can understand him wanting to do it, but no way in hell does she want to be a patient in his mind. She can just about handle going from friend to former colleague, she will not accept friend to patient.

[wingedman]

"Bullshit." Sam gives her a flat, unimpressed look. It's the blunt manner he uses with his friends, not his patients; there's no sign of professionalism here, just Sam Wilson. "Only reason why it was weird is 'cause you aren't exactly a real huggy sort of person, Natasha. Caught me off guard. You think I got some kinda beef with you, you're wrong. I don't care about any kind of bullshit team nonsense. I care about you as a person, and as a friend." Hell, he hasn't even held a grudge against Stark, let alone with anyone else who'd fought on his side. Sam's not that kind of guy.

[unmakeme]

"We were closer, Sam. We were friends, we were--" Something so important, something vital. All that time training together, growing as a team, coming to rely on one another. The Avengers had been a foundation for her. They'd all been more, before the fighting, before Riverview. "There was a time you wouldn't have thought it was so strange. I'm not saying it's your fault, but-- we're clearly not there any more. I'll take the blame for that, if you want, but it doesn't change it."

She doesn't want to, but she is talking. Not about the fire, but she is talking. Damnit. She realizes it, sighs, and shuts her mouth, staring at the ground. "I'm fine."