Vanahara gritted her teeth when Hayes told them to brace themselves. She let herself fall backward the few inches to the wall, bracing herself with her feet as with a press of her palms, the metal links of her belt at her back melded with the metal plating on the wall—as secure a hold as she could make. She kept her damaged ankle slightly raised and grabbed a nearby pipe for good measure, and a good thing too—as the ship slammed into the ground, it was only her grip that kept her from bouncing right off the floor. 

When the dust settled—literally—Vana released her belt from the wall and gingerly put her weight on both feet. Not that bad, then—not nearly as bad as the Firesmith girl who looked like she'd gotten a claw right through her shoulder. Commander Hayes was already moving away to attend to the rest of the ship, and as much as she'd like to follow him, Vana knew she should take care of her own injuries first.

"I'll take you up on that, Nightshade," she said, voice coming out rough as it always did. "Don't have more than scratches." She propped herself against the wall again and lifted her foot, pulling off her boot and the quick bandage she'd wrapped around her ankle with little more than a wince. The bandage was dotted with blood, but the teeth marks in a ring around her ankle were little more than needle holes, and thank Karina they hadn't nicked any tendons. As for her burned arms, Vanahara peeled her newly unlaced bracers away from the patches of red, painful skin with a hiss of air the only sign as to pain, inspecting them clinically and nodding when she was satisfied that Ling's potion would be able to heal the two small patches of burned skin at her inner elbows. She looked up, offering a nod as she took the proffered potion, dabbing as little as possible onto a clean section of the now wadded-up bandage and rubbing it into her injuries as she'd seen Ling do. 

Within moments, the burns at her arms eased and the punctures in her ankle were closing. Vanahara gave a glimmer of a smile in approval as she handed the potion back, pulling on her boot and re-tightening her bracers with quick, practiced movements. She glanced down at the Firesmith clutching her shoulder, and with a sigh leaned down to haul her to her feet—using the uninjured arm, of course.

"Master Smith is down that way," she said shortly, pointing down the hall at Alamar's retreating (stumbling) back. "Follow her." After making sure that Silvana was firmly on her feet and wasn't about to fall over, she gave her one more clap on the undamaged shoulder and turned away. Vana headed in the opposite direction, following the clank of retreating footsteps to somewhere she could properly touch the hull and try to straighten out some of the damage.