A L O N E _ O N _ T A T O O I N E
S O M E W H E R E _ N I C E
"Who are you?" He whispered to himself, running a gloved thumb lightly across the surface. Silence wrapped itself around the young Mandalorian, the twin suns Tatoo I and Tatoo II setting just on the horizon. "I wish I knew you..." An almost disappointed sigh leaked from his lips, a hint of desperation pressuring his chest as a peculiar cocktail of emotions began to brew. "I just want to remember..."
That was one thing being Mandalorian didn't do: his questions about himself remained lost, as far as he knew, none of his clan were able to identify Elos' exact origin. He was simply a wayward orphan that'd been rescued, like many of his brethren before him.
Somewhere off in the distance a speeder roared, drawing nearer to Elos' position; he gathered his belongings and placed his helmet back upon his dome, his body feeling heavier than usual. An indescribable presence haunted him as he parted ways with the expansive clearing of sand and rocks now behind him, each footstep more surreal than the last. Fleeting words both familiar and not escaped Elos' tongue, voices muffled by a sort of cognitive static called out to him; his own breathing becoming more light and effortless, a tender euphoria previously unknown but now found.
With one final look over his shoulder, the Mandalorian took in the picturesque spectacle of the twin suns.
Somehow, he didn't feel so alone anymore.
