Beyond the mural was metal, Larre Praxor had taught his descendants. “You can crack a painting, can crack a statue, but the meaning behind either may never be broken, so long as a Mandalorian remains to maintain it.” It was a creed that sank deep and true for Casany Praxor, all the way from childhood to adulthood; all the way from serving her clan to remembering it as a mere bounty hunter.
She watched the stars fly by from the window of her Winged Pike, exiting hyperspace to realize that she had gone from nowhere to somewhere, somewhere to nowhere, every inch and lightyear a pale comparison of the time and space she had crossed thus far. She was aimless in her journey, traveling between this planet and that moon, hoping something would catch her radar so as to pull her from the darkness of her wandering and reel her back in like a fish caught by a fisherman.
“Stupid,” Cas shook her head, calling into the nothingness of her cockpit. “There’s nothing out there for me… Nothing in here but me…” She sipped from her flask; vodka, potent, but barely tapped into and not enough to render her mind drunk just yet.
“Say again, Cas?” Rawl called over ship-comm.
“Oh!” Cas cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean you. You’re not stupid, Rawl. I mean, I might say you are from time to time but, eh, not this time..?”
“Very reassuring, Cas.”
“As reassuring as my coordinates, I guess. Where…” She fumbled with the console, suddenly realizing she had no idea where she was apart from being near Onderon space, however close or far “...Where are we, again..?”
@Scoobert