Itzhal Volkihar
Character
Caught in the infectious rhythm of Tyto's song, which thundered through the air and made the tables tremble with the shared enthusiasm of a dozen Mandalorians. Itzhal couldn't help but smile, a slight movement of his lips barely concealed by the drink he reached for as he felt a wave of belonging wash over him. The rich, resonant sound of a drinking jug transformed into a booming horn, mingling with the voices of everyone singing along even as their words fell out of synch and some had not the tune to carry, it mattered little for those who sang; their joy a balm he hadn't quite realised he needed to feel.
Drego's voice carried over the din of chaos around them, requesting a set of spices close enough for Itzhal to reach over and grasp, even if he questioned why the food needed to be even hotter than it already was. He'd forgotten that most Mandalorians were so used to rations and simple hunts that they felt the need to season everything with so much extra spice the quality underneath was covered up.
Naturally, he kept this opinion to himself as he stepped closer to Drego, offering the chando shaker with an open palm.
"So, you know many of these people?" He asked, curious to hear another's perspective of the large gathering and the peculiar figures included.
