Vincent observes with an outward look of calm patience in the face of Stone's frustration; fairly good for a 'tiny man' who knows just what the raksura can become. Inwardly? Vincent can't say he's thrilled as a thought crosses his head.

"Hm. Could be what this place is doing to us. Good to know I might have to look forward to that."

It's not. Not at all. The dry tone that creeps into his apathetic tone is as arid as the Corel Desert.

In the meantime, the darkness of the clouds is lessening in wake of the remaining avian retreat. But with the end of the storm comes new problems. The glitter of quicksilver feathers might catch the eye and turn it skyward. They are gentle and light and fall not too far away if they make it to the ground at all between the two present.

Then there is the remains of a very crumbled, totally rusted out junker of a pickup truck that slams to earth a lot less gracefully about ten meters away. ...Close enough that the impact probably ripples the ground beneath their feet a little.

It... probably wasn't anyone's chosen vehicle, given the condition it's in.

"....Right. That happened." Things were lifted up with the massive updraft, weren't they? After a split second examining the pickup remains, Vincent turns his attention skyward, looking for more dangerous falling objects with riskier trajectories.