Above the sound of systems blaring warnings at him and the crackling of busted circuitry, he could hear a voice. He couldn't make out what it was saying, but unfortunately it sounded like he hadn't set the N-1 down in as remote of a place as he'd hoped. Probably wasn't too bad of a thing, if the pain in his head was anything to go by.
Bracing himself for the pain, Din shoved himself out of the seat enough to reach the manual release for the cockpit’s dome. The clear dome barely budged, cracking open just enough for some of the smoke fogging the small interior to start escaping. He shoved hard at the release fruitlessly one more time before giving up and grabbing for the blaster still miraculously at his side. He shot a couple of blasts at the dome’s release mechanism, just enough to jar it free of whatever was keeping it stuck— there wasn’t much he could do to make the ship in worse shape, and he needed to get out of there. The filters in his helmet were enough to where the smoke didn’t get to him, but there was no point in staying in there.
He managed to finally push the dome back just enough for him to squeeze out of, his head spinning, blaster still in his hand. His visor’s HUD spotted the man before he did— never a good sign, but honestly he’d been worse off in more hostile territory before and still managed to get out. He could practically hear his riduur's voice in the back of his head, telling him this had been a terrible idea from the beginning, he should have never gone alone, shouldn’t have taken the N-1. Din just groaned with effort as he pulled himself out the rest of the way—
Only to immediately fall forward, off the ship and onto the ground.
At least it was a relatively soft landing, the dirt already disturbed and turned over by the crashed ship.
This already karking bad day was not getting better by the minute. Din stifled another groan of pain, face down in the dirt, not exactly the image of dignified grace that a Mand’alor should… at least remotely have. Right now he really couldn’t give a kriff. He was just glad that somehow he hadn’t managed con his way into bringing Grogu with him on the trip.
Din grit his teeth and carefully pushed himself up, immediately turning his head int he direction the visor indicated the other man was— and immediately froze. He blinked, hard, trying to clear his spinning head as he focused on that face— that familiar, familiar face. His entire brain skidded to a halt as no explanation came forward to make sense of what he was seeing.
His riduur, bare faced, wearing…..??? What was he wearing? No no no, wrong question, too many questions, this didn’t— what—
“Bucky?” He croaked out, voice hoarse from— well. Probably all the screaming and cursing from everything going horrible, terribly, catastrophically wrong in every way possible before he crashed.
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Bracing himself for the pain, Din shoved himself out of the seat enough to reach the manual release for the cockpit’s dome. The clear dome barely budged, cracking open just enough for some of the smoke fogging the small interior to start escaping. He shoved hard at the release fruitlessly one more time before giving up and grabbing for the blaster still miraculously at his side. He shot a couple of blasts at the dome’s release mechanism, just enough to jar it free of whatever was keeping it stuck— there wasn’t much he could do to make the ship in worse shape, and he needed to get out of there. The filters in his helmet were enough to where the smoke didn’t get to him, but there was no point in staying in there.
He managed to finally push the dome back just enough for him to squeeze out of, his head spinning, blaster still in his hand. His visor’s HUD spotted the man before he did— never a good sign, but honestly he’d been worse off in more hostile territory before and still managed to get out. He could practically hear his riduur's voice in the back of his head, telling him this had been a terrible idea from the beginning, he should have never gone alone, shouldn’t have taken the N-1. Din just groaned with effort as he pulled himself out the rest of the way—
Only to immediately fall forward, off the ship and onto the ground.
At least it was a relatively soft landing, the dirt already disturbed and turned over by the crashed ship.
This already karking bad day was not getting better by the minute. Din stifled another groan of pain, face down in the dirt, not exactly the image of dignified grace that a Mand’alor should… at least remotely have. Right now he really couldn’t give a kriff. He was just glad that somehow he hadn’t managed con his way into bringing Grogu with him on the trip.
Din grit his teeth and carefully pushed himself up, immediately turning his head int he direction the visor indicated the other man was— and immediately froze. He blinked, hard, trying to clear his spinning head as he focused on that face— that familiar, familiar face. His entire brain skidded to a halt as no explanation came forward to make sense of what he was seeing.
His riduur, bare faced, wearing…..??? What was he wearing? No no no, wrong question, too many questions, this didn’t— what—
“Bucky?” He croaked out, voice hoarse from— well. Probably all the screaming and cursing from everything going horrible, terribly, catastrophically wrong in every way possible before he crashed.