Private Heart of A Mandalorian

[Eliz Krayt]

Coruscant wasn't a place he wanted to go. At least, not without his armor. Flashes of some.. Darker memories seemed to always accompany him whenever he went to a city world. A flash of pain, specifically his arm. Kranak had told him, right? He lost it, once. To a Sith. In a club. Just talking about it had his mind trying to piece it together and remember. Much to his annoyance. The half breed stepped from his ship, slipping his Buy'ce on. The rest of his armor was temporary. Durasteel to at least keep him protected.

He wasn't worthy of a new suit, not while his families steel was still out there. That's why he was here. His gaze turned up towards the towering buildings above. Rich people, probably like the one he was going after. He grumbled under his breath as he patted the pistol on his hip. One of many, really, but the only one he remembered having special meaning. Gwyneira Vizsla had made it for him, after all.

"Alright where are you.."

His wrist came up next, glancing to the small holoprojector there. Glancing through the messages. He had to be somewhere close by, right? If he showed up.

Oh god would he? Eliz grimaced. He wasn't the best at keeping tabs with the Clan, despite it being the one he'd been in since a small boy. He'd fix that. Eventually. Hopefully. Ah man where was he?

Kayl Krayt

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Location Here
Equipment: In Bio.
Tags: Eliz Krayt

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Indecision.

He had felt it rise from within him when a fellow Mandalorian reached out to The Misfit, asking for his help to find their missing suit of armor. It was a noble quest that he respected in fact, and would have helped them, leaving very little to second thought, but what made the difference for this specific instance was that the Mandalorian in question that needed his expertise was another fellow Krayt.

The Misfit had left The Vhipirheim -The Mothership; what most, if not all Krayts considered home- to get away from them and their belittlement they’ve projected onto him for so long; to find a place he could call home, where he could be accepted for who he was, and hopefully, he’d find someone he felt he belonged to in the process, making actual friends.

And yet one of them called for him, for his help.

He wasn’t sure why he had accepted to go through with it. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t really met with a fellow member of his clan named Eliz before. Perhaps the guy could say the same for The Misfit himself, too. But what difference would that make, really? Even other Mandalorians, those that did not hail from Clan Krayt… they treated roughly the same as his clan members.

Despite all of the indecision and hurt within him, he thought it was worth a shot and decided to help, as much as he found expecting a treatment different from Eliz, compared to what he got from his own people so far to be a waste of time and effort he could have used for something else.

He did not have his hopes high.

At the sound of the winding down engines outside, the kid stood up and walked towards the window nearby, taking a look outside from the tenth storey of the empty flat of the apartment building. It wasn’t long before a silhouette clad in the all too familiar outlines of the Mandalorian armor walked down the ramp of the ship after landing on the unoccupied landing pad.

What was he doing? They were a few blocks away from the target building in question where Eliz believed they kept his armor, but announcing himself of his presence to the world like this?

The kid shook his head in disapproval of such inconsiderate action as he vertically raised his left vambrace several inches away from his young visage; the touch screen of the computer terminal installed into his vambrace illuminated his features with a hue of blue light. As the kid slowly walked away from the window, the fingers of his right hand tapped rapidly over the screen as he sent Eliz an encrypted text message.

”You must’ve forgot to tell me we were going to go in loud and dumb,” he hit ‘send’ after writing the message. ”Closest high rise apartment building. To your direct north-west. Tenth storey, number twenty,” he wrote, giving him directions to link up with him. ”Take the long way around. Please make sure you’re not followed?” he added, as he absentmindedly moved towards the foyer of the apartment, staring at the screen, waiting for his reply.

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