The group didn't arrange themselves with any intention. They just… sat. Wherever their legs gave out, wherever the stone was least broken. A loose circle formed without anyone deciding it should, close enough that no one felt isolated, far enough that no one felt crowded.
Garron leaned heavily against a chunk of fallen masonry, his left arm wrapped and braced in a rough immobilization Elena had put together from cloth and bark-hard growth. He kept flexing his fingers like he was testing whether ignoring the pain would somehow make it stop listening to him. It didn't.
"I hate this," he said finally, breaking the quiet. His voice wasn't loud, just raw. "Sitting around. Waiting. I'm built to stand in front of things and make them stop moving. Not… this." He gestured vaguely with his good arm. "Feels like I'm dead weight."
