Kyle Arcaina
Character
Kyle lets out a tired sigh as he tosses his pack onto his bunk. He didnt know what he was supposed to expect when he arrived at the Academy. The rooms were rather lack luster. At least it would make improving the accommodations easier. Maybe tossing in a droid sculpture or some basic art work might liven up the bland space. His mind already thinking of how he could improve it as a padawan it appeared he might have to share the room as he noticed a few other bunks in the room. They would probably appreciate some additions. Heading to his pack he undoes the mask which he left dangling around her neck. This planet's air was clean after all and so the mask wasnt going to be of any use to him now. It was strange to have nostalgia for such an ugly world but looking at the mask he remembered his birthday when his father gave it to him so that he could go onto the surface.
That line of thinking stirred up more memories as he took off the upper part of the outfit and set it into his pack as well. He remembered the way the dust filled wind had pushed his jacket. How the air even when filtered tasted like metal and for how horrible the planet had been it had still been home. WIth the mask and goggles packed he works on taking off the heavy jacket as well and tucking it into the pack as well. Recalling the junk filled landscapes of course led to the memories of his accident. He winced in pain feeling a sharp shooting jab in his shoulder and puts his left hand on it rubbing the cold metal as if he could sooth it. Phantom limb they called it, the experience of losing his arm had been agony. It had not been cut off rather it had been torn the metal only digging in enough to get hold before physics had just ripped through the flesh muscle and bone and took his arm from him. He gives his head a rough shake stuffing his jacket into the pack. Remembering the incident brought the memory of pain with it and the phantom limb back. He needed to distract himself, to talk to someone or something to work on either or at this point.
That line of thinking stirred up more memories as he took off the upper part of the outfit and set it into his pack as well. He remembered the way the dust filled wind had pushed his jacket. How the air even when filtered tasted like metal and for how horrible the planet had been it had still been home. WIth the mask and goggles packed he works on taking off the heavy jacket as well and tucking it into the pack as well. Recalling the junk filled landscapes of course led to the memories of his accident. He winced in pain feeling a sharp shooting jab in his shoulder and puts his left hand on it rubbing the cold metal as if he could sooth it. Phantom limb they called it, the experience of losing his arm had been agony. It had not been cut off rather it had been torn the metal only digging in enough to get hold before physics had just ripped through the flesh muscle and bone and took his arm from him. He gives his head a rough shake stuffing his jacket into the pack. Remembering the incident brought the memory of pain with it and the phantom limb back. He needed to distract himself, to talk to someone or something to work on either or at this point.