Private Finished Crashing Down

Vito was going to die.

It was a simple, clearly understandable fact. It was one he knew in the same way that he knew that humans needed oxygen, or that the sun would rise each morning. He'd known it since his ship (or pod, because calling it a ship was being too charitable by half) had missed mars.

Once he'd passed Mars, there was no looking back. There was no alternative. Space was too vast for him to happen to land on any of the other planets in the solar system, and there was no way for him to turn around. The launch that had sent his pod flying towards Mars was one way, a simple enough system. It launched him. The magics imbued in the pod would help it land on Mars. The ship itself would then unfurl into the parts he'd need to make a doorway back home, he'd take samples, protected by his own magic, voila.

No voila. Vito had a long time, sailing through the dark of space, to think about what had happened. To ponder if it was a mistake, or if he'd been sabotaged. He wanted to say that no one would do that to him, but it wasn't nearly that easy: some people absolutely would, and it was the exact sort of murder that would be the easiest on someone's conscience.

They'd never have to see the body. There'd be no mess. He'd still be hailed as a hero, but his soul would simply be lost, and the Savoia would lose their heir.

He thought about that a lot. About what would become of his family. About what the loss of him would mean to them.

All he could do was think, after all. The capsule was small and cramped without much room to move. His magic kept his bodily needs in check, which meant all he could do was sit there and wait. Eventually, his magic would run out. Eventually, he'd have to decide how he wanted to go. Quick but painful? Slow but agonizing? Eventually he'd decided that it would be easiest to just let things go naturally. Without his magic sustaining him, he'd work through the oxygen in his pod and drift off before too long.

But he still had, by his estimates, five days of his own magic remaining. He had time.

Time and a desperate, desperate hope that someone back at home was figuring out a way to summon him.

And for a brief moment, that hope was answered when the ship shuddered. Vito sat up as much as he was able, staring out into the dark of space. Something had happened. An attempt at a summoning? Something?

And then he was through. It was one second to the next, and then suddenly he was surrounded by blue and green, his pod rocketing down towards... towards land, probably. It was hard to tell with the pod spinning wildly out of control.

The impact should have killed him. As it stood, it did leave a crater and a massive furrow through some poor farmer's field. But the magics that had been laced into the pod kept him from feeling any of it beyond a brief wave of nausea, so when the pod finally slid to a halt, all Vito could think is I'm not dead.

Good words to live by.

The pod was not really a ship. Not really. It was solid and opaque, without any sort of external window or anything like that. Anything they'd included would have weakened the craft, so instead it had been set up via magic. Vito could see out, but no one else could see in.

After all, there shouldn't have been anyone on the outside anyway.

Vito's head was still swimming from the crash. Even if the ship had insulated him from the worst of the bumping, he'd still flipped a few times, the stabilizers unable to keep things completely organized. Right then he was lying on his side, trying to process what was happening and where. He was in... somewhere. On land. There was sky and trees and... and people.

Had he died? That seemed like the obvious answer. That he'd finally gone unconscious for some reason, slipping away...

Which was wrong. It didn't make sense. He should have been able to remember at least up to the point where he accepted it would happen soon, and instead there was a great big gap that didn't make any sense. There were people around the pod, snatches of English and conversation and... concern.

Maybe he was worse off than he thought. His magic would keep him alive, but it didn't guarantee comfort, and that meant he was hungry and thirsty and tired all at once. But he at least had the presence of mind to recognize that the one man who'd gotten close was talking directly to him. Here to help.

So Vito did what he should have done back when he first crash landed, reaching out and unweaving the magic that held the craft together. Normally unweaving took a great deal of time, but the ship had been tailor made to be taken apart, and it was as easy as pulling the right string and watching it unravel.

So not a half second after Irene announced they were probably going to need to quarantine the area, the pod abruptly unfurled. It wasn't particularly hard, made of very flexible metal, and the angle it was set at basically made it into a long strip as it dumped Vito onto the ground. The air it released no doubt smelled funny, strange and metallic, but it was still perfectly breathable.

Not that it stopped Vito from gasping for fresh clean air.

Atop Vito, a small blue and white creature peeked out of his hood, climbing up onto his side and staring at Irene inquisitively.

Realistically speaking, Vito didn't have it in him to be surprised anymore. He'd passed the threshold, gone zooming past 'surprised and bewildered' into the great unknown beyond. How could he even process? He was... he was back on Earth? He was back on Earth and someone was talking with him.

The person doing the talking looked perfectly normal, or at least normal enough to raise no red flags. The tiny creature on Vito ran up his sleeve as Vito abruptly braced himself with one hand, pushing himself onto his ass as he blinked furiously, trying to let his body adjust.

"I-- I'm human," were the first words out of Vito's mouth. Better to clarify that. Better they know he was a human and not a shade or a projection or (god forbid) some kind of alien. "I don't know how I got back here. Did someone recall me?"

It was theoretically possible with a large group, but Vito had been sure that they'd be wildly out of range of any possible spellcasting. Who could possibly expect that someone would be able to recall him from long past Mars?

Vito wasn't a fan of doctors (or EMTs, which this man seemed to be), but he wasn't stupid either. He sat still and let the man get to his work inspecting him, but once he'd take a look he wasn't going to find much beyond some bruising. The ship had kept Vito plenty safe, although it had left him a bit rattled.

"Vito di Savoia," he clarified, finding nothing amiss with the questions. "I'm on Earth, although where is a bit beyond me." There's not much he can see, and he's not going to guess. The man's accent wasn't one he recognizesd either, which made things a great deal harder. "It's..." He paused, trying to count down. "Sometime in mid-June."

He'd lost track of the days.

"Maybe late June."

Had he cut out early? Had he miscounted? It was entirely possible. It wasn't like he could tell how many days had passed when he was soaring through space, no sun or moon to signal the passage of time. His ship hadn't had anything like that because it hadn't been expected to be necessary. Everything on the ship was to keep him alive, and it had all been so calculated...

Vito made a face at the mention of Manta Carlos. At first he thought it was Monte Carlos, but after a moment he realized he was mistaken.

"I suppose, although it's unnecessary," he said matter of factly. "Where did you say I was? Manta Carlos?" Not a place he'd heard of, but that wasn't exactly excluding him having landed somewhere on Earth. He might just not be familiar with the area, or it might be... well, he'd said set of islands, and Vito considered himself a fairly worldly person. Could a whole set of islands exist he hadn't heard of?