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@galesbow
Pressure and darkness was all he could remember feeling as his world was sucked out from his view. There was nothing to prepare them, nothing that could have notified them until the last moment—Slippy yelled, alarms went off and Falco knew he messed up bad. He hoped none of them got sucked into the wormhole, but there was no way he could confirm. All he could do was pray…
If there were any gods left to pray to.
For how long he was out, he would never know. Considering the headache and intense thirst he felt upon becoming conscious, he began to assume it was a while. A breeze gently caressed over his plumes and clothes, and the light seemed a bit too bright. Sounds of a field, maybe. He wasn’t opening his eyes yet.
Is Fox okay? Slippy? Peppy?
He parted his beak, one hand lifting to press on the button on his communicator, but it wasn’t there. Just his feathers. Then he quickly realized that he wasn’t sitting. Instead he was laying down on… something that felt sharp. He forced his eyes to open, battling away the brightness. Underneath him were the gleaming remains of his Arwing’s windshield with metallic debris. Above, his ship, laying upside down and providing shade.
How the fuck did I survive? …Where am I?
Falco crawled out from underneath and tried getting a proper look at his Arwing, suddenly feeling his heart drop from his ribcage all the way down to his gut. Broken wing, smashed front and smoke coming out of the engine. This was not good…
How was he going to fix this?











