Fallen Like The Sky (Dick)

[Koriand'r]

All she remembered was that she had fallen.

A small, ovid pod had broken through the Earth's atmosphere, it's entry heralded by a thunderous roar. Between clouds, the fire-rimmed transport had plummeted, until it finally struck asphalt – boring a hole into the ground meters deep and just as wide. Smoke rose from the crater, and, for a short while, everything was still.

Then she had woken.

Weak with fatigue, the Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran barely moved at first. Indeed, she simply lay among the wreckage of her escaped craft, trying to piece together the memories that swam behind her closed eyelids. When they cleared, she wished terribly that they hadn't. Burdened by a heavy heart, she remained unmoving, contemplating how and why the cracks in her and her sister's relationship had become a fissure – a chasm so vast she doubted they would ever be able to bridge the expanse.

It was a noise close by that eventually spurred her into action – cautious footfalls. Slowly, she rolled to her side, getting her hands and knees beneath her body, before she pushed herself into a sitting position. Movement was hard – kept out of the sun's light in Kormand'r's prison cell, she lacked any reserves of energy, and her bound hands were still clasped in their cuffs, restricting what she could accomplish.

Her bronzed fingers gripped the crumbled concrete beneath her, and slowly, she looked up to the land above where she'd landed, dim emerald eyes searching the horizon. At first, nothing but a dark sky – not too dissimilar to the nights of her homeworld. Then, she heard sounds previously unnoticed - a persistant hum, interspersed with blaring, mechanical wailing. It caused her brow to furrow in mild confusion. However, she didn't have time to offer the distant cacophany much in the way of consideration, as a shadowy figure emerged – appearing out of the gloom.

<”Help,”> was all she could bring herself to utter, her voice quiet and, to the humans of Earth, entirely foreign.

[DICK GRAYSON]

He hadn’t been in Bludhaven for long. A few months, about. Still, a part of him was already feeling like he’d bitten off more than he could chew. How did he think he could manage a city even more crime ridden than Gotham and leading the Team? He was doing it, of course, but his already questionable sleep schedule was taking a serious hit.

Speaking of, it was probably about time he call it a night. It was a surprisingly quiet night for Bludhaven: only a few drug busts and one hostage crisis. He suppose he should take advantage of it, get an extra hour or two of sleep. He needed to be at Mount Justice early tomorrow for a training session with the Team. They were all improving quite well and he was hopeful that-

A bright light lit up the sky and he froze, watching as it soared through the air. It was only in the air for less than a second, leaving a trail of smoke as its trajectory took it crashing into the outskirts of the city. He cursed, already springing into action as his mind raced. Crashed satellite? Space debris? Aliens? They were all just as likely. Hell, could be all three.

Already close, it didn’t take him long to reach the outskirts, transitioning from rooftops to the ground as taller buildings became scarce. He was glad it was so late at night, most of the city asleep and those who weren’t too caught up in whatever dubious activity they were participating in. He didn’t want to deal with a whole city coming out to look at this thing, not until he had the chance to investigate it and make sure it wasn’t a danger.

He approached the decent sized crater, glancing toward the nearby highway and grimacing as cars began to pull to the side. Hopefully they’ll at least know to keep their distance. He turned his gaze back to the wrecked… ship? He eyed the components that were recognizable. No, escape pod probably. It was a small, single-seater and he saw no evidence of any advanced navigation system.

He didn’t spend too much time investigating that, though, as his attention was quickly caught by the lying amongst the wreckage. He stiffened, looking for any features that would identify her—looked like a woman, at least—as any race he knew, but found none.

She was definitely an alien, though, if her orange skin was anything to go by. Well, that or an extremely dedicated cosplayer.

He waited a moment, hand moving toward his eskrima just in case when she stirred. He relaxed minutely, taking in her obviously weakened state. Then, she looked to him, full green eyes wide and with an expression on her face that punched him in the gut: an expression that said help.

He moved, feet sliding down the slide of the crater. He barely caught the word she uttered, not like he understood it anyway. He approached slowly, not wanting to spook her, before kneeling down beside her.

“Can you understand me?” he got that question out of the way, eyes looking her over for any signs of a serious injury. He needed to know if they could communicate first, before he attempted any aid.