Chapter Text
Penny was bent over her violin case, snapping in the precious instrument when the ground beneath her jumped. The music stopped abruptly, replaced by the fragile sound of plates and cups dancing on tables. The noise continued for one heartbeat… two… then silence. She found herself planted face-first into the dirt and flipped herself over, checking that she hadn’t crushed her case. No. It was a sturdy foam-filled, ultralite plastic. Her instrument was fine, and so was she.
The festive atmosphere had become a frightened quiet. At one of the tables, a baby cried, being quickly soothed by their mother. Between the tables and Penny, an older, official-looking man jumped into the performance area. He dismissed the quake, cuing the musicians onstage to keep playing. Who was he, and what gave him the authority to play this off as no big deal? Penny’s heart was still racing.
She scanned the scene. No major injuries, no obvious damage. A couple of the coffee urns had tipped, spilling their precious contents onto the ungrateful soil. Someone seemed to be nursing a twisted ankle, and one of the partially-eaten roast wherries had tipped into the embers of the fire beneath. Thankfully, that looked to be the extent of the damage.
But what about other consequences? Penny looked around for her charges, several of whom she had noticed milling about while she was playing. Unexpected stress like this could easily cause heart palpitations, panic attacks, PTSD issues, maybe even a TIA. Hadn’t she read about post-earthquake dizziness syndrome at some point? Her mind flashed through her morning routine, and she made a mental list of who to check on.
There! There was Felix, looking bewildered in a reclining lawn chair. He was a veteran, one of her first stops of the morning, and ordinarily… well, not exactly a ray of sunshine. “Felix!” Penny dashed over, analyzing the older man’s face. “Smile for me. Can I check your pulse? Are you dizzy at all? Confused? Having any chest pain?” She squinted at him, checking his pulse while trying to determine if his face was more lopsided than usual, only to notice that instead of the smile she had asked for, she was analyzing a scowl.
“I’m fine, girl! I survived fighting the Nathis, you think a little jiggle is going to end me?” Felix swatted at her in irritation. “If you want to make yourself useful, get me another lemonade.” He nudged the tipped glass with his dress shoe.
Penny grimaced, itching to do something. How was she supposed to help now? Just about anybody could get Felix another lemonade. And if she wasn’t useful, wasn’t contributing… why was she even here? She had to be of some use to someone. She glanced around again, trying not to look frantic. If someone was in trouble, she had to find it.
A hand fell on her shoulder, startling her into a small jump. “Easy there,” Pete said, flashing his most disarming smile. “You’ve got that rabbit look again.” He glanced down at Felix, who was swatting at Penny again for blocking his view. “Sorry, sir,” he apologized, guiding his wife out of the way.
“Well, I…” she started, looking around at the amazingly unaffected group of people. “The ground shook. Somebody might be hurt. Or, or something.” She scanned the scene one more time. No one was shouting, waving their arms, or in any distress whatsoever. The few people that were leaving to check charts, property, or animals didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry.
“Everybody’s fine. No need to harass the elderly. How about we go fold up some chairs? It looks like a fair number of people are leaving. We can clear out a spot for dancing, and you can check on people as we go. Sound good?” Pete smiled hopefully.
Penny looked up into her husband’s eyes - as frustratingly calm as ever. Worse yet, he was right. But her adrenaline was still pumping, and her need to help was frustrated by the fact that no one needed anything she was qualified to do. It was all too familiar a feeling. Pete squeezed her shoulder, waiting for an answer.
“Fine,” Penny sighed. “Chairs it is.”