In the bustling main street of Mos Eisley, a white-clad figure sticks out under the high suns. His coat hood is pulled over his head, and headphones cover his ears. His silvery white bangs bounce slightly as he weaves through the crowds, his cold blue eyes distant and bright. Nix never liked Tattooine. It was nothing more than a barren wasteland where infamous criminals resided. That, and it was a little too hot for his taste. The only reason he was here was because his Master wanted him to look for parts to build a lightsaber. He continued down the street until finally, he chose to rest for a moment. Finding a nice shady awning jutting out from a building, Nix gratefully leaned against the cool mud-clay wall.
[member="Jake Sorin"]
[member="Jake Sorin"]