He had made one (one!) wrong turn. A right when he should have made a left. Sure, it was right into Terrae's only moon but it should have just been a bit of a bump, maybe a dent on the side of his ship at most. Not a ricochet directly into the crust of a planet that had been labeled "DO NOT TOUCH" by Aqua Loquitur as a whole.

One second he's breezing through the galactic wind as per usual, the next he's hanging upside down, his seatbelt the only thing keeping him from one hell of a head injury.

"Wonderful steering, captain Drex'ial," The robotic voice of his ship's AI beeps out, now glitchy and pitching, yet still sarcastic as ever.

Ronoi groans in reply, reaching for his belt and dropping onto the ceiling (now floor) of his ship. He gives a grunt as he hits the titanium, supposedly indestructible (yeah, right), ship hull. He stumbles towards the now shattered windows, dragging himself onto the herba, supposedly called "grass" by the planet's inhabitants. Slowly, Ronoi takes in his surroundings. His destroyed ship, the grass and dirt, and the tall flora rising almost two stories into the air.

Great.

Just. fucking. great.