"I was thinking the same thing." Courfeyrac speaks quietly, for only Combeferre and Bahorel's ears. "This wasn't a fluke. Even aside from the statistical unlikelihood, there was... something. I *felt* something, right before we crashed, like there was something, a... a force watching us. Waiting for us. Grabbing for us. Blood and fire and scales."
Rubbing at his head, Courfeyrac frowns, trying to make sense of the scattered images and impressions that have survived the crash.
Giving up on getting anything more useful from the memories, at least for now, Courfeyrac scans his eyes over the scattered survivors. They're now starting to from groups of their own, mainly based on who was traveling together. Some are crying; some are comforting their companions; some are checking water-logged cell phones and computers. "I hate the idea of leaving them. We're going to have to do some fast talking to make sure no one follows or challenges us about it. But I also don't want to lead a death-march through the jungle if whatever caused this decides to go at us again. Opinions, Combeferre?"
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Date: 2013-04-20 11:39 pm (UTC)Rubbing at his head, Courfeyrac frowns, trying to make sense of the scattered images and impressions that have survived the crash.
Giving up on getting anything more useful from the memories, at least for now, Courfeyrac scans his eyes over the scattered survivors. They're now starting to from groups of their own, mainly based on who was traveling together. Some are crying; some are comforting their companions; some are checking water-logged cell phones and computers. "I hate the idea of leaving them. We're going to have to do some fast talking to make sure no one follows or challenges us about it. But I also don't want to lead a death-march through the jungle if whatever caused this decides to go at us again. Opinions, Combeferre?"