…Carduul was, after all, ‘youthful’ compared to most holders of that all-important ‘Mand’alor’ title from this age. Not that such a thing ever truly had the chance to be expressed in simplistic camaraderie- not without the shadows of far greater matters requiring his utmost attention, and stoicism.
“I imagine it is.” He gravely gave in retort, amused though it was.
“A ship with only slightly modified designs from the Mandalorian Wars is a wonderful piece of history, but makes for a poor method of transport these days, I imagine…”
Sensors and comm jammers, electronic warfare- those all sounded appealing. He, of all people, knew how critical communication was to a war effort.
“A turbolaser?” He prodded,
“I knew not such things could be mounted upon such a…tiny frame.” It was made apparent that Carduul was not exactly a connoisseur of weapons. Some names and descriptors were familiar, others were not. Still, if Maji had honed and approved of these tools- he would trust in their efficacy. His helm glanced up from the Basilisk with the final offer, eliciting a wry half-laugh;
“Ah-hah…paint?” For a moment, he seemed a bit skeptical of whether he would truly accept such a thing. It hardly seemed necessary, let alone practical. Though, a moment of silence passed with lips pursed in thought.
“...Red and gold could suit quite well... perhaps I’ll think it over.” Was the subdued murmur after the pause.
That trust in the basilisk’s capabilities extended to the rest of the kit that was mentioned, with a glance towards the packed case before moving alongside.
“I’ll take a look on the way there as well, then.” Was his affirmation.
Once they had entered and settled what equipment they needed, even he could tell the place was cleaner compared to the room he last saw Maji inhabit. Though it wasn't perfect…it was still a ‘lively’ sight. He imagined one needed such personal touches when one made home upon a ship. Frankly, he himself wasn’t quite used to such a lifestyle. As the ship took off, and his gaze roamed the surroundings of the galley he was momentarily left in, he was expecting that was it.
Carduul wouldn’t have minded the silence; he was fine merely idling in his own thoughts. Yet, he was far from opposed to chatter, when the opportunity presented itself- something that happened the moment the other rentered, and the crusader glanced back over.
“No.” He simplistically answered.
“Truthfully…I have been rather isolated from the galaxy’s planets until the renewed crusade. Dxun is the only place I can truly claim familiarity—and that is not even a planet. Everywhere else I’ve merely, heard or read of. Watching the varying factions wage their wars amidst politics from the sidelines... that is all I needed at the time.” The tone was difficult to discern in that moment, as the visor briefly trailed off. It was a flatter tone, yet, marked with almost a sense of wistfulness, or perhaps wonder. When one’s life was once wholeheartedly dedicated to preservation of history, after all…to endanger a repository was foolish. Whatever expression behind the helm had left by the time his gaze refocused.
“I take it you, on the other hand, have far more experience with Nar Shaddaa- and plenty of other planets.” Topic to turn back to the Shistavanen with a prod, helm tilting inquisitively as he made the assumption. One with an obvious answer, given their current mission- yet it wasn't framed in an antagonistic way.
Carduul Akahl
