[Once again, none of this makes sense and Merlin is torn between fascination and terror. Terror wins out for a while with this one—even understanding everything that's going on couldn't prepare him for being locked in this metal egg thing and falling—but he's composed himself even before his pod hits the ground. Not that anyone is going to see that, nor will anyone see him yank himself free of the literal safety restraints in the pod.

But they might hear the shrieking sound of metal being torn from metal some forty feet up in the air, as his particular pod's hatch quite literally bursts from the rest of the pod, makes a not so graceful arc, and starts to fall well before the pod itself is going to reach the ground. That took him a good ten minutes to figure out a spell for, guaranteed, but uh—hmm.

Well, now he's forty feet in the air and hanging halfway out of a metal death trap, staring wide-eyed down at what's become of the first wave's pods already on the ground. Ummm.

The door—] Look— Look out below! [please fucking catch his stupid broken pod, he ruined it already]

[Merlin is technically "assigned" to the task of healer, but he's never been able to sit still and do as he's told for very long. If he can be held still for long enough he'll do his best with helping with injures, but healing magic is not actually his area of expertise, so... Other pursuits.

Other pursuits include trying to rip open other pods as they land, something he can handle with magic but less effectively as he wears himself out. He's probably going to sprain something trying to literally use his hands to open this, but whatever!!

So let's try that magical explosion thing again, good idea. He'll, uh, literally shout at the pod he's trying to open:] I need you to move as far to your right as possible! Can you hear me?

[This one he can do. He knows how to pitch a goddamn tent and make a basic stew out of edible-enough-looking plants (and if someone hunts something to donate to his dinner effort, that would be great). After all the action he's finally calmed down, sitting at his own little fire and wordlessly gesturing for anyone passing by to join him and eat some of his stew if they need it.

He's still dressed in his bloody clothes, using the Darma Chic(tm) robe as a blanket draped around his shoulders for now. At least he's finally... subdued, even if it's mostly exhaustion. After a while, he gives up on eating and just stares up at the moon.]

Do you think they're alright?

(ooc: hmu on jojoveller for plotting!)