[ One second, Poe's elbow-deep in the guts of Black One on a misty morning at D'Qar. The next, he's baking in humid air and sunshine. He squints upward, not believing his eyes for a second at the sight of the ocean and its creatures overhead. It's amazing. But it doesn't explain how he got here. It feels too real for him to have gotten knocked out somehow. The heat is very real, and he's still got machine grease smearing his arms and hands.
The sight of the food, the clothes, the detritus scattered around makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. It's like a whole group of people just evaporated and left their belongings behind. ] Well. That's probably bad.
[ He skirts the stuff, focus on the floating caravan. At least this is semi-familiar, though there's no apparent displacement underneath the caravan to show how it's keeping aloft. It's interesting. Interesting enough for Poe to want to poke it.
He presses one dirty hand to its side, feeling for the hum of machinery, and then tries to slide his hand along the caravan's length.
Except he can't. He's stuck. He yanks, yanks again, idiotically braces his shoulder against the caravan and tries to wrench free by pushing off--
Except now he's stuck, by shoulder and by hand. He tilts his head back and groans, though there doesn't appear to be anyone but the distant fish to hear him. ] Great job, Dameron.
F.
[ Poe is covered in baby lizard people and couldn't be happier about it.
They tug at his hair, his uniform, ask a dozen questions at once, and he tries to answer them in order, grinning all the while.
He's just. Standing next to the house. Arms spread. Letting himself be climbed. Because baby lizard people. ]
no subject
[ One second, Poe's elbow-deep in the guts of Black One on a misty morning at D'Qar. The next, he's baking in humid air and sunshine. He squints upward, not believing his eyes for a second at the sight of the ocean and its creatures overhead. It's amazing. But it doesn't explain how he got here. It feels too real for him to have gotten knocked out somehow. The heat is very real, and he's still got machine grease smearing his arms and hands.
The sight of the food, the clothes, the detritus scattered around makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. It's like a whole group of people just evaporated and left their belongings behind. ] Well. That's probably bad.
[ He skirts the stuff, focus on the floating caravan. At least this is semi-familiar, though there's no apparent displacement underneath the caravan to show how it's keeping aloft. It's interesting. Interesting enough for Poe to want to poke it.
He presses one dirty hand to its side, feeling for the hum of machinery, and then tries to slide his hand along the caravan's length.
Except he can't. He's stuck. He yanks, yanks again, idiotically braces his shoulder against the caravan and tries to wrench free by pushing off--
Except now he's stuck, by shoulder and by hand. He tilts his head back and groans, though there doesn't appear to be anyone but the distant fish to hear him. ] Great job, Dameron.
F.
[ Poe is covered in baby lizard people and couldn't be happier about it.
They tug at his hair, his uniform, ask a dozen questions at once, and he tries to answer them in order, grinning all the while.
He's just. Standing next to the house. Arms spread. Letting himself be climbed. Because baby lizard people. ]