Alan
Blessed are the peacemakers
Coruscant
Jedi Temple Dormitories
Tracyn sat silently, watching the door. He had been ordered to leave, but he hadn't. Just hadn't, in all honesty. Jedi were all around, and he had no real intention of fighting or killing anyone, and besides, there were far too many Jedi here for him to do any real damage. Not that he wanted to.
He sighed, leaning forward on his bed. He had decorations in his room at one point, at Asha's request, but he took them all down and left them in the closet for the next occupant. He also made his bed, and bundled whatever gear and weaponry he had in a locked at his feet, which he planned to transport out when he left. He was half-naked, wearing nothing but his black flightsuit pants. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, a vicious collection of scars marked his torso and back, along with the menacing tattoos that lay along his body.
He curled his bare hands, glancing at the marks and tattoos that lay along them. He glanced upwards, his advanced and heightened senses making him aware of a nearby, approaching presence. He curled his knuckles, and awaited the entry. His door was never locked.
Only sometimes, though. For obvious, couple-related reasons.
@Iella E'ron
Jedi Temple Dormitories
Tracyn sat silently, watching the door. He had been ordered to leave, but he hadn't. Just hadn't, in all honesty. Jedi were all around, and he had no real intention of fighting or killing anyone, and besides, there were far too many Jedi here for him to do any real damage. Not that he wanted to.
He sighed, leaning forward on his bed. He had decorations in his room at one point, at Asha's request, but he took them all down and left them in the closet for the next occupant. He also made his bed, and bundled whatever gear and weaponry he had in a locked at his feet, which he planned to transport out when he left. He was half-naked, wearing nothing but his black flightsuit pants. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, a vicious collection of scars marked his torso and back, along with the menacing tattoos that lay along his body.
He curled his bare hands, glancing at the marks and tattoos that lay along them. He glanced upwards, his advanced and heightened senses making him aware of a nearby, approaching presence. He curled his knuckles, and awaited the entry. His door was never locked.
Only sometimes, though. For obvious, couple-related reasons.
@Iella E'ron