I Will Not Watch The Ocean

Title: I Will Not Watch The Ocean
Time Period: June 21, 135 A.E
Characters Appearing:

Summary: Boats coming into harbor are supposed to be cause for celebration. But sometimes, they're not.

It's an exciting day in Dornie. It always is when a ship comes in, after all. Sailors coming in to woo women and boost the local economy, new cargo to sell to the merchants, and a crowd gathered at the docks. Today a ship called Silver Wind is coming in, the crew standing on deck, except for those needed to bring them into dock.

It may be of interest to one woman in particular, as Patrick Ferrier stands in the crow's nest, a spyglass held to his eye. But if he's supposed to be watching the dock, he isn't. His attention is pointed further in, scanning through the crowd.

The word of a ship coming meant that Sorcha sent Mariah out to see, and in turn, that brought Sorcha out. Running as fast as her two feet would carry her through the market and down to the shore. The long awaited husband was finally back in port. Meant that Mariah might be alone in the shop for a few days truth be told. Somehow, she doubted the woman would mind. It also meant that hopefully, Aislinn would have that charm that she had spoken to Sorcha about.

So eventually, the spyglass would land it's sights on Sorcha, dark hair bound back, skirt and blouse, waving every few steps as she pushed her way past the people on the docks, almost knocking someone over into the water in her rush to get as close to where they would land as possible. Despite that they would be slow moving into the docks. She didn't care.

Patrick was home.

Niall situates himself slightly off to one side to make way for potential merchants and significant others pushing forth. Sorcha's haste nearly knocks him and a couple others over, but he's out of the way and balanced quickly enough. A strong, bemused laugh comes out of the man - the joy and excitement of the gathered crowd is catching. "Someone catch her before she's sprung into the wet!" Niall remarks to no one person in particular.

The commotion outside has drawn Cordelia's attention from her work, and it's a slow enough day she's gotten leave to go join the throngs of people waiting for the Wind to come in. The sea breeze blows her wispy hair around her face until irritated, she catches most of it up and ties a quick messy black ribbon around it. Luckily Mrs. Ferrier is too distracted looking for her husband to tsk at the sight of the teen heir to the Ross plant; she's in brown trousers that help hide the blood stains here and there and a gray sweater, and the loops of that improvised bow are very uneven… she's hardly the type to care about fashion.

She does care about her town and is happy to see the families waiting for their husbands and fathers and brothers, and she watches those eager people with a smile.

Out and about before the call of port came, Leonard finds himself dockside with Sage when the boat comes in; he may enjoy seeing the big trading vessels return home- sentimental notions aside, the cargo can also be interesting when it gets to land. Rather than let herself be jostled about on his shoulder, the veterinarian's familiar is in her wolf shape, collar and all. She stands next to Leo, leaning on his leg and watching the goings on with peaked ears and keen interest.

"Summer is never here until the ships come home, is it?" Leonard comments to whomever might be in his immediate vicinity, not bothering enough to look away from the throng about the boat, and the sailors docking the ship.

Those around Niall laugh at his comment, but no one moves to stop her. There are a few watching her, even, interested in the daytime drama. Near Leon, there's assent in the general buzz, but most, like him, are focused on the ship, some with their own loves coming in.

The boat is still out from the port, though, when a roar sounds in the distance. Possible danger has many looking from one excitement to another, watching as a dragon comes into view over the buildings behind them. It's a young one, smaller than average, but fire can already be seen glowing in its mouth.

"You just wish it were you Niall!" Sorcha fires back over her shoulder at the blacksmith, oblivious at the moment to the Ross heir, to Leonard and his familiar. Focused on her husband way up in his crows nest as she comes to a stop near the end, waving her hands back and forth up in the air.

But like others, she hears that sound and her arms freeze in place, turning to see what exactly is making that noise. Eyes go wide as saucers at the sight, even as her heart plummets down into her stomach. No. no….

Niall can't help but grin at Sorcha's back banter as she says it, having nothing to respond with given his bachelor state. Indeed, he wishes. Unlike Cordelia, the blacksmith has no significant amount of hair he needs to deal with, but in the same vein he swipes a hand over his head to wipe it of sun-born and crowd-warmed sweat beading on his brow. He catches sight of her and Leonard, the latter's familiar unmistakeable. And it's as he's scanning the crowd for other familiar (and human) faces that the roar rattles the air and draws the man's gaze from sea to sky. A very salty curse flies from him as opposed to the worried gasps and alarmed shouts.

Looking skyward at the telltale roar, Cordelia is already on the move, pushing this way and that to get away from the docks. Most move from her path, but she's hardly parting the sea. Most are staring up at the sky and pointing, and oblivious to the small teen trying to get through — but through she finally gets, and begins to run to the nearby Apothecary — her goal, her satchel of supplies that she should have brought with her, but she'd only intended to be away for a few minutes. Murphy's Law. Damn Irish.

Sage hears it first- she doesn't need to say a word to Leonard, however, by the time the sound cries up in the air. He immediately blanches, getting shoved out of the way promptly by people turning away from the docks and the boat. The wolf lets out a high-pitched, dog-like sound, lips peeling back as she turns to grab Leon by the hem of his jacket.

«Always jinxing things, aren't you?»

"Pipe down-" Arguing like an old married couple, even as the beast crests above the port. "Time to get the hell out of here." Leonard tugs once on her collar, though she is also very nearly dragging him off herself already, pulling him before he actually starts moving away.

Cordelia just barely makes it through the crowd, size working in her favor. And tied back hair, too. But at her back, the crowd surges. Maybe they'd hoped it would pass them by, but the dragon flies low over the crowd, a burst of flame sending people running, pushing, shoving and generally trying to out run one another. It traps in the others, and the wolf. No one seems to be making too much progress out of the area, like a rush of traffic that leaves everyone stranded.

The only breathing room, unfortunately, is toward the water. Very few seem willing to take it, though.

Patrick can be seen giving the warning to the rest of the boat, an attack unexpected so close to home. It was supposed to be peaceful once Dornie was in sight. Sailors also scramble, some getting below while other take up arms. Guns fire, less to harm the beast and more to draw it away from the crowd.

Sorcha is out on the breathing end, fingers digging into one of the posts that hold the docks up in the water, watching the scene unfolding out across the water in abject horror. Yelling at her husband while doing so. "PatricK! Patrick get down from there!" Dark hair quivering even as she does, goosebumps popping out all over her.

If there's one thing Niall's learned about dealing with dragons, it's avoiding the more fiery end. "Get down!" Niall also finds himself yelling out as he finds himself resisting the push of panicked people. In response to the dragon's firebreath, he presses his will and magic against the creature's, hoping to redirect the flames away from the heads and bodies of the populace. Though harder to do with all the distractions of the crowd and gunfire, Niall buckles down to try and focus on that.

"Dragon!" calls Cordelia as loud as she can, stumbling down the road to the physician's office. Inside, there's a note that Aislinn went out on a house call, as (bad) luck would have it, but the apprentice grabs her satchel and shoves extra supplies in that might be useful. She's all of thirty seconds inside before flying back out the door, down the steps, and onto the road toward the docks again.

Leonard is one of the bodies flung to the ground, out of the way- and thankfully he has a large canine to buffer his maneuver. Sage buckles under him, head swiveling up to look past him when they land together. He pushes up to his hands and knees, hair mussed and green eyes wide, searching around for the dragon. "Move-" Leonard coughs, hobbling onto his feet again and heaving Sage further in front of him. If he dies, so will she- but if she dies, could he bear it without her? A selfish thought, certainly, but true.

"Get out of the way!" He barks, more of panic than anything. "Get off the docks!"

The dragon breathes out, but the flames lick just over the crowd, some hair lighting up, but leaving people mostly unsinged. It makes the dragon let out an even louder roar before he comes to swoop at the crowd.

Bullets hit against its scales, throwing its aim off from crashing into the group. Instead, talons swipe at them as it passes over, changing its aim toward the ship. Leonard feels the sting as the dragon rips through clothes and sink, as does a woman not too far away from him. She lets off a shriek, falling backward out of the group and onto the ground nearer to the docks. Her hand covers a shoulder, but blood leaks out between her fingers. Leon finds himself in similar conditions, not a fatal wound, but plenty of blood and plenty of pain.

Patrick looks right at Sorcha as she yells at him, a hand lifting as if letting her know he's seen her. He does start to climb down, since up high is not the place you want to be in dragon attacks or electrical storms. But as he comes down, the dragon flies by, knocking him from the ropes with its wing.

As the man falls to the water, it's another woman's voice that shouts out his name. Idgie is unfamiliar to those on the land, but she's the first of the sailors to the edge of the boat. Others follow, though. And she isn't the one pulling shoes off to dive in after him. Sorcha recognizes the diver, he's worked with Patrick long enough to be a trusted friend of the man.

It's too far out for Sorcha to swim and she's already looking over her shoulder to the others who were passing victims for the small dragon. BUt the other sailor is already making for her husband and may hopefully get him out of the water. Not that Patrick can't swim. He can. So across the dock crawls sorcha, dodging people and going for Leonard. "Off the dock, we got to get off the dock. Get you to Aislinn or Cordelia" Her voice high and panicky. She's not one to keep a cool head in situations like this. As evidenced by her shaking hands as she tries to put her hands over the vets wounds to stem blood and look for shelter.

Breathing out a short sigh of relief as the flames miss the majority, Niall tracks the dragon's flight as best he can. He pushes his way through the crowd, still shouting "Run!" and "Move!" with generally encouraging, if rough, bumps and shoves to guide the people caught up in the middle. The blacksmith ducks as the dragon makes its pass, but breaks out of the pause quicker, making way towards Leonard and the woman. Unfortunate that the ship is still too far out for him to make any sort of movement toward it, but as he looks towards the vessel it's just in time to see Patrick knocked off and into the water. Another curse slips out of him. The sailors will take care of Patrick, hopefully. For now, he moves to help Sorcha, hands reaching for the injured woman with the clawed shoulder to help her up.

Coming back for the smallest Ross is like a salmon trying to swim upstream; everyone else is fleeing the area while she's trying to press pass the surging crowd on her way back in, searching for those in need of her. It'll likely get her a lecture later, should her parents be told — and it's a small town, so they will be — but this is the path she's chosen to follow.

She comes across the woman first, quickly pulling out a length of very thin white cloth that she begins to wrap around the woman's shoulder, tightly, to staunch the bleeding. "You! And you!" she jabs fingers at two men in their early 20s who are fleeing the area. "Bring this woman to the clinic. Keep pressure on her wound. I'll be there as soon as I can, but the most important thing is to keep her awake and to keep her from bleeding too much." She doesn't wait for questions. "Go!"

And then she's on to run to the next victim.

He's been kicked, bitten, every number of things. But having talons cleave into your upper back and shoulder is something that one never hopes to experience. Leonard's luck run clean today, and his pained yell when they break flesh is startling. There's already a sheen on his forehead, and his face is white as a sheet when Sorcha reaches him. His otherwise orderly clothing is stained crimson down the side now, and the flapping shapes of wings nearby tell him that Sage was able to get out of the way.

"I saw Cordelia, but she shouldn't be-" Leonard gasps half into the surface below his face, his head turning after Sorcha. Green eyes water at the corners when the woman tries to staunch his wounds, lungs unsteady. "Hells bells-" And when he does see the girl, he grimaces visibly. "God damnit, Cordelia-"

Sailors clamor to get Patrick out of the water, men clamor to get the wounded away from the crowd and the crowd slowly starts to make progress away from the danger. And given that the dragon is swooping back toward the beach, it's a good to to be… not there.

The beast knocks a few people down, adding to the general panic as he makes a wide turn over the departing Scots. Those that fall slow everyone down at best, and at worst get trampled over by those more concerned with their own safety. Out at the boat, Idgie and the others are helping the two drenched sailors climb back on board. It's clear, though, that Patrick is wounded in how halting his progress is and how often he turns to hide his face from the woman on the shore.

"She's a grown girl, she can get out of the way" Looking over to the healers apprentice who is doing actually pretty damn fine on her own. Sorcha looks back and forth, all the time, between Leonard and the boat, trying to get a look at Patrick, relief that he's back on board but still worried deep inside. She concentrates eventually, on getting Leonard and herself to under something, some sort of shelter to make it harder to be dragon fodder, as it looks to be wheeling about. "Patrick" Under her breath she whispers his name. Now is when, maybe, she might speak on of Tavish and Glynnis Macrankin's prayers.

Niall is there when Cordelia's wrapping the woman's shoulder up. He nods to her quick instruction about getting the woman to the clinic, but seeing the medic struggle against the crowd - especially as the dragon comes in for another pass - fires the blacksmith up to remain. "Go on with you," he stirs of another pair of men nearby, pointing them towards away from the area and in the direction of the clinic, if not pointing exactly where it is. They'll know where it is.

That done, the man makes his way through the crowd as well, but heading in the opposing direction of them. He might later be billed as one of the crazy fools who stayed to get eaten, but he's there and facing down the scaly beast. "Come on then. I've already got me pieces of two hides!" he yells out, throwing a hand-sized fireball towards the creature.

"Don't swear at me," snipes Cordelia, crawling into the bit of shelter that Sorcha's found for herself and the gentleman. "Let me see."

More of that cloth is being unwound only to be wound again around the man's wounds.

"Lucky for you women find scars alluring, Doc," she tells Leonard. "I'll stitch that up proper once we make sure no one's getting eaten for the day, aye? If you don't cry, I'll give you a butterscotch."

The bandaging knotted off, she leans forward to press a quick and cordial kiss on his cheek. She pats Sorcha on the shoulder and looks with some worry to the boat before she's scurrying away in search of the next injured party, darting between men fighting the dragon and those running for safety — luckily she's small and quick.

"Sage…" Leonard all but ignores what she says, though he gathers that it's something about scars and women. He is aware enough to make a guess. The owl is banking past some of the dockside buildings, keeping low and watching her head, unable to get back to where her mage has been dragged aside, leaving a smear below. "Too late." He's already teared all up, and laughing at his words- and grimacing again out of the pain that amusement seems to cause him.

"Sorcha, get inside. It won't do if he gets to land and you're a crisp… waited too long already…" Leonard is able to say all of this only because he concentrates his energy into it, grabbing the seamstress by the wrist and talking up to her.

The fireball flies out and smacks the dragon in the side. It makes an almost comically surprised noise as it falls to the water. Fire is supposed to be its shtick. It's body hits against the side of the boat before it splashes into the water, and it rocks the boat enough to rock the two men climbing up the other side of balance. For the friend, it leaves him dangling from the rope, as he's able to catch himself. But Patrick doesn't and he falls back into the water.

As for the dragon, as it rights itself, it finds the water a hindrance to getting airborne and ends up sort of half-gliding toward the shore. Once it finds bottom, though, it charges at Niall, its great head slamming into the blacksmith like a bull might. He didn't even have to wear red.

It stands over Niall for a moment, to roar at the other people. And that gets them moving out of the area much faster.

"And it won't do if you get crispy wither!" She fires back. But both of their words are likely cut short as the dragon takes it bath and then heads for Niall. The scream from the dark haired woman is cut short, her hand clapping over her mouth to smother it even as tears start to course down her cheeks. Patrick is back in the water, Niall's been struck and she presses herself behind the stock and wooden crates that they have taken cover behind, hoping that the dragon doens't set it in his mind to come over there.

Niall makes a face that wavers between satisfied and surprised when his attack lands square against the dragon's side. Out on the beach, the blacksmith doesn't have the time nor length of stride and power over the rocky sands to get out of the way of the charging dragon. As a result, the smith braces for impact as if his familiar were roughhousing with him. The dragon, of course, isn't just playing around. He's sent flying, landing hard back on to the beach with the wind knocked clear out of his sails for sure. For the moment, the man lays at the dragon's feet at the creature's mercy.

The dragon is given a wide berth — she's faced her share of magical creatures enough, thanks! — and Cordelia moves swiftly to do what she can to those who need help, again delegating people to help as need be: one woman is handed a screaming toddler who had gotten separated from his mother; a girl who got trampled is assured her leg isn't broken but only sprained, and a man is commanded to help her to safety.

She glances at the water, knowing that more serious wounds will be coming in when it finally makes it to shore, and does what she can to stay out of the dragon's path and help those who need her.

Leonard pushes himself onto one side, using Sorcha half as leverage and half pushing her from him. "It wasn't a suggestion." He doesn't want to be the one responsible if Sorcha gets put further into danger. He proves that only by nudging himself up onto his good arm and knees, the wet padding of his clothes tight against his ribcage and Cordelia's quick wrappings.

"Niall! Wake up, you great brute!" Though staring down the scene of the smith with the wind knocked out of him certainly doesn't help the case. It's too close for her to just run, now.

Out in the water, it's Idgie that dives down into the water this time, with their sailor friend only able to yell a protest this time as she falls past him. But she swims over to Patrick to help him back, all three of them seeming oblivious to what's happening on shore.

And the dragon, having the man below him and trapped, digs talons into his side as he starts to lean down to munch. It's a volley of bullets from the ship — much closer now, better for aiming — that get its attention off the firestarter below him. Its talons rip out of Niall as he's used as a springboard to get the dragon up into the air. Water droplets fly every whichway, and it makes a swift dart for the boat.

In the water, the sailors don't notice until someone on deck shouts a warning, and even then, they only have moments to find safety. And while Idgie tries to drag Patrick into the lee of the boat, it's clear they won't make it. From the shore, they can see Patrick shove the woman under the water, much against her wishes, but it leaves him in the path of those claws.

The dragon latches onto him, dragging him up from the water. Idgie's pulled along, but her grip on wet clothes doesn't last long and she's left behind in the water. And they're all left to watch as strong muscles tighten around the man and vicious claws dig into soft flesh. The sailors fire again and again, this time in anger rather than strategy, but all it seems to do is chase the creature away from Dornie's shores, prize in hand.

He pushes her, and Sorcha can see, between the crates. See the behemoth rise, head for the boat. See patrick in the water and then patrick not in the water, in the air and in the clutches of the dragon. She's frozen in horror, watching the scene, not breathing.

Niall creaks his eyes open, and then his eyes bug out as dragon talons sink into his body. With no breath to give in pained cry, he can only gasp and stare as the dragon's toothy maw starts down. It's not a moment he's likely to forget. Neither is the next, when bullets fly and the dragon lifts off, one moment crushing him against the rocks and sand and the other spattering water and dragonsblood upon him. It all passes too fast. Too fast as he helplessly follows the dragon's flight path towards the boat, towards the water, and towards Patrick. Too late, and too far. He too, stares in dumb realization. The bullets that fly after seem to slow, but that's just the world as Niall knows it starting to tunnel on him as he lays there bleeding into the sand.

No. No.

Leonard quivers on his knees, uneasily staying head-up, only just. His eyes squeeze shut just for a moment, and he fumbles backwards, to where he had just pried himself from. He says nothing else, just reaches for Sorcha in those near quarters, offering an outstretched arm to her. It's a gesture not unlike the father- uncle- cousin- brother- that he is to many people; he can't protect her from what just happened, but the least that he can do now is give her something to hold onto that isn't splintery old wood, or cold, hard ground.

To be quite honest, he isn't sure what else to do.