Stop wasn't really a thing one did with skyships under sail, but at the word Tal killed the magic engines and turned the wheel hard to port to send the little vessel into a slow arcing circle. He threw a rope around the wheel, slipping the hitchknot to hold her locked in position. In a smooth motion that had become as ingrained as reflex he vaulted to the mast and flowed up it, pulling ropes in and furling the sails to mere peeks of fabric, wrapping swift knots around belaying pins before heading back to the tiller to begin bringing the Peregrine down in a slow spiral, giving them ample time to examine the site from above as they dipped below the clouds.
"Well... fuck," Tal agreed when he got his own sight of the crater.
And then the second.
"Least it's still fresh," he observed, glad that Deepfrost's lingering cold seemed to have preserved the area from any other meteorological upheavals so far. "How big d'y'think whatever-they-were, uh... were? Are?"
Surely nothing living could have survived such an impact... right? It had to be just rocks?
"Well... fuck," Tal agreed when he got his own sight of the crater.
And then the second.
"Least it's still fresh," he observed, glad that Deepfrost's lingering cold seemed to have preserved the area from any other meteorological upheavals so far. "How big d'y'think whatever-they-were, uh... were? Are?"
Surely nothing living could have survived such an impact... right? It had to be just rocks?
