Falling Star

Cold, that was the first thing he felt. So unbearably cold, his muscles burned while his nerves froze, the sheer shock alone snapping him from unconsciousness. It was like a dream, waking to a sea of black, speckled in stars that shimmered in the distance, small beacons among the infinite darkness. He didn't understand, his body suspended among thousands of pieces of debris. Flakes of ice broke from his skin, and his eyes were straining to stay focused. How was he alive? Was he in space? He felt the sheet of ice crack as his neck turned to try and see what surrounded him, but was faced with the massive blue colossus of a planet behind him. What is this? His mind was blank, but bits of fragments came back to him, slowly, his hands moved amidst the nothing to grip at his head, eyes shutting. So much pain, his synapse popping and electrifying, every single cell in his body aching, screaming, every movement was agony. He had a mouth, but no air to scream, his anguish eaten by the void itself, and yet, he felt himself moving towards the planet. Memories were shattered in his mind, moving too quickly to grasp onto, like cars speeding by on a highway. They had people in them, flashing lights, feelings emitted like the emissions of their exhaust. Those lingered, something he tried to use to gleam who, or what, he was. It was all so much, his mind fading into black once more as he began the plunge unconsciously. But in his caged mind, where his thoughts were able to sit, he did grasp to one strand of mind, one small thread. It was red, vibrant, and trembling. His grasp almost felt to weak for it, but its power, it was overwhelming. Rage. Pure, utter rage. Rage at his situation, plummeting towards the Earth, rage that he knew not even his own name. How did he end up here? What was going on? He had no memories, but among the inky waves of his inner mind, words spoke to him. Betrayal. Tool. Sisters. He didn't understand them. Smashing against his thoughts, the battering ram of these intrusive words would rend any clear idea as to what he was moot. He was in too much pain to hold them back, too much pain for the effort to understand. Earth's atmosphere is a fair, but unforgiving barrier, sparks trickling off his body before the heat began to build upon the debris, and himself. Wiseman. A name suddenly came to him and his eyes opened up as he saw the trail of orange attempting to burn him to a crisp and obliterate him, but his body somehow resisted. Bits of metal and other things ruptured and disintegrated around him, in the night sky, it seemed like nothing more than a typical meteor shower. But it all seemed to come back to him as his body exploded in pain. His roar of pain and anger had volume, but no ears to fall upon. It was him, his ship, his crew, the Sisters, all gone, and it was him. He was used, manipulated, its why he felt that rage, the grip on the red thread now pulling it closer to him. And just as he was going to speak, a piece of debris exploded, splintering, and flinging towards him, no time to stop it as it cracked against his head once more, and his mind was once again nothing. His body fell towards a cliff on the edge of the water, gentle waves crashing lazily against the rock face. It was only disturbed as the initial impact smashed him against the top of the cliff, catapulting him into the forest nearby, the rocks dislodged from the impact falling to the waters below, but his body continued. Trees, branches, and other things threatened his path, but the sheer force of his descent made them all come crashing down, until he eventually found dirt to skid against, leaving behind a path of destruction behind him. The grass around him was smoldered, smoke and steam bellowing off his form, and the trees were crackling with licks of fire from his re-entry. He laid motionless, drops of bloods trickling from his head, down his forehead over the dark crescent and into the dirt below. The gentle breeze rolled over, carrying the chill, sea air, that after a long time of laying collapsed, made him shiver. His eyes fluttered open, his vision flaring in and out, one eye having difficulty completely opening. His fingers twitched, before his left arm was able to bend, slowly as possible, a means for him to avoid the pain, as the fingers touched the wound, and he winced. He had no strength, using what little he could muster to push himself up, getting out of the dirt and onto his rear. His other eye widened as he saw his finger covered in his own blood and grime from the impact. "W-what?" His voice managed to croak out, his heart beginning to race as he lowered his hand and saw the path he assumed caused. When his mind tried to recall what may of happened, there was...nothing. No memories. No flashbacks. Not even a name. He held back a cry through gritted teeth as he rose to his feet, his clothes in tatters and barely clinging to him as he gripped his other arm's forearm to try and keep it still as he limped back the way he 'came.' "W-where am I?" A question to himself, leaving behind a trail of red as he searched desperately for answers, but they fell upon the quiet ears of the trees, and they didn't reply. His hobble had brought him to the cliff, noticing that the cliff wasn't as long as it should of been, the charred impact point giving him some kind of indication that...he fell? His confused brain was in overdrive, and he he fell to his knees shivering. He quivered into a hunched position, trying to warm himself, but that's when his gaze fell upon something. A green jacket, laying on the ground next to the beginning of the treeline, nearly camouflaged due to the pattern. The Moon's light was the only thing guiding him, and he reached to grip it, yelling out as his injured arm was disturbed. But, it was warmth, and he felt so cold. He slipped on the one arm, hitched, rapid breathing from the pain propping his other arm inside, and covering his torso and slowly moving to lay against a tree, staring out into the sparkling sea. Like the body normally does when in significant amounts of shock, he felt himself slipping away again, a last ditch effort to slip away and recover. But as he felt his mind fading away again, one grueling question had begun to fill his mind, in the empty space it now occupied. "W-who am I?" He shuddered out, before his eye shut, and let the darkened blue sea slip away and back to black. He was alone, and had no idea what was happening to him, but out of all of the emptiness, one thing still remained, a single, red thread, dancing in the wavy darkness of his inner mind.