During the half hour window the women had in the darkness, buried under mounds of sediment and stone walls that still stood strong, they had little they were able to do. While they waited they separately struggled with the isolation and the impact the environment was having on their emotions. They [i]knew[/i] help was coming but that did not make it any easier to tolerate where they were forced to stay with only their hope as comfort. For the Kalderi this was the thing of nightmares. Their culture prized their wings and the freedom it imparted, their architecture always prioritizing wide, open spaces, to such a degree that the concept of the door as humans used them was offensive. By contrast the teenager was drawn into the nightmares of her upbringing, of being caged by an overbearing, morally bankrupt, and sociopathic woman that wanted her to one day be her lover and her successor. It didn't matter that she was not gay. No one had even asked her what her favorite color was, much less her sexual orientation.

"We should turn her on her back," Bel'sian said softly, as if she was afraid that speaking any louder might be ominous.

Because the duchess had been trying to push her companions away from the mudslide that toppled through the open entryways into the building and had destroyed crumbling sections of the structure, she had been turned the corner of the room when she fell. Typically a person would try to brace themselves from impact when they pitched forward. Unfortunately, she was so distracted by her cause, and was overtaken so quickly, that not even her enhanced reflexes could compensate. Solae had pitched forward when a heavy weight struck her backside all at once, and it was simply impossible to prevent it resulting in injury. It almost would have been better if she had gone in the opposite direction.

Rosaria nodded in agreement, deferring to Bel'sian because of her age and confidence. They remained strangers to one another, but the crisis had forged a bond due to their common goal of survival.

With painstaking care and delicacy they rotated the diplomat from her stomach to her back, with Bel'sian keeping her legs stable while Rosaria held onto her shoulders, a part of her mistress that was thankfully undamaged. Visibility in their cocoon of muck and rubble stayed poor and made them exceedingly cautious. Perhaps they could not apply first aid in a meaningful manner, but they could try to make the best of a poor situation, and make the unconscious soul more comfortable. Solae didn't need to be awake to benefit. They could provide care so that her breathing was clearer, her limbs were not bent at odd angles that would cause muscle pain, and relieve any other obvious pressure from an overtaxed body.

Her petite nose, the shape and size of which women went under the scalpel to recreate, was crooked, bruised, and swollen, half-congealed blood creeping out of one nostril more than the other. A huge contusion was on one side of her forehead where a notable lump was forming. She was concussed but without any deep laceration that would require stitches or be a concern for blood loss. Seeing such a lovely face disfigured by her ailments was so jarring that it made Rosaria start to quietly cry again. Though it was hidden from view, the crushing force that had descended on her calves and feet had fractured and shattered several bones. The skin was mottled with dark purples and reds where it remained hidden under her trousers. Her lower extremities had been compacted against the floor in such a way that it had been impossible for any bone to just in any direction. Technology was sophisticated enough to allow reconstruction- once she was rescued from the cave.

"She will not die," Bel'sian said encouragingly. And it was true. They were in much more danger of suffocating, starving, or dehydrating than having the linguist succumb to her injuries, none of which were fatal on their own. Had the aristocrat not been concussed or thrown into shock by the agony she must have felt when the wave of terrain collided with her, she would have been sitting with them, undoubtedly giving them reassurance herself.

"I know," Rosaria said, drying her tears with the back of her hand, assuming her bravado as one would don a suit of armor. She didn't want to appear weak or stupid. Bel'sian had not accused her of either; it was Thorne's indoctrination that made her struggle to feel it was acceptable to express herself and that not everything she had been taught was a vulnerability was necessarily disadvantageous. There were distant, muffled sounds from beyond of the [i]Bonaventure[/i] as the hose began to suck up huge swathes of mud before ejecting it elsewhere.

"How did you meet?" she inquired, hoping that the conversation might be a welcome distraction for both the Kalderi and teenager.

"When I was a baby I sold to a woman who was trying to train me to be like her, to take over her business," Rosaria shrugged as if it were an unremarkable story. Bel'sian politely did not interrupt as her eyes widened at the notion of an infant being sold. "Rene found me at the woman's house and freed me. I didn't really have anywhere to go, so I decided to join him and Solae when they left that planet. I knew I definitely didn't want to stay on Zatis."

"I see. Is it... normal for humans to buy each other? Bouradine did not tell me of this," Bel'sian asked with furrowed brows. Her love for the man had not been mitigated; she was merely curious about what he hadn't told her in order to shield her from the ugly sides of his civilization. If she searched her heard she would have to admit that she had been similarly hesitant to expose the flaws and schisms of her own people.

"Yes. No. Well... it depends. We're not supposed to, but there are places where the rules are broken. Solae and Rene are very against it, though. Solae also wants to help liberate- that means give freedom to- the Syshin, who aren't treated very well by a lot of humans. She wouldn't tell you herself, but before Dasin and Yarue no one has ever trusted a Syshin to give them such a nice position, or pay them, or teach them things. I think I like her because she doesn't care what others think and just does what she thinks is right, no matter how many people it upsets, or how hard it is. Mistress Thorne, the woman that owned me, and her friends weren't like that at all." Rosaria was sharing more than she might have otherwise because of the unusual circumstances. The alien next to her was easy to talk to, did not seem to be judgmental, and had nothing better to do than listen to her whining. She would have felt exponentially more awkward making the same sort of confessions to the former marquise's face.

Just as Bel'sian started to contemplate another topic to broach they heard the clang of something striking the roof of their sanctuary. Excited as she was to be free of the building after the last half an hour, she winced at the harsh noise and Rosaria's yelling, and found herself anxious about what the rest of this plan entailed. When word traveled through their communicators that the breach would possibly scatter debris she was even less enthused. She was thankful all the same, just with reservations, and fearful that in the last moment this plot would be quashed by an unknown anomaly.

The much more excited adolescent moved closer to her older counterpart and the two of them bent over Solae to shield her from any debris that could fall from the ceiling. Neither of them wanted to get hurt, but it was prudent to protect the one of them that was worse off, and for whom a stray clump of petrified wood caught in the blast could spell disaster. "We're braced and ready," Rosaria exclaimed to give him the sign he should fire his charge.