xenonentity
Tabby | she / her ; xe / xyr
- One on One
- Dice
- Off-site
Khel Lyze had never been on Omega before. Up until recently, she'd never left Tuchanka - hadn't even left the shelter of her tiny clan. Her mother kept a short leash on her, trying to mold her into her own legacy. Now, her mother was gone. Now, she was her own krogan. And she couldn't be happier. Going to Omega was probably not really a great idea; she wasn't a mercenary, didn't have any formal training. Everything she'd learned was from her mother, and Raigh's view of the world had been... skewed, to say the least. But then, Lyze was kind of the queen of poor decisions, or at least impulsive ones, and she wanted to see the galaxy. The Citadel was fun, especially compared to Tuchanka, but she couldn't even visit the Presidium without scathing looks from C-Sec. On Omega, no one would look twice at a krogan roaming the corridors.
Or so she thought. When she actually arrived on the spaceport, she was surprised by how few krogans she actually saw on Omega. Of course there were plenty of asari, and a lot of batarians and vorcha, but she wasn't expecting quite so many humans, salarians, and turians as she found there. At least from what her mother said, they were too - ugh. She knew better than to treat anything Raigh had told her about non-krogans as fact. It was hard to unlearn everything you'd ever heard, though.
Lyze was an average size for a krogan, but she still towered over most of the people she passed. Her bright pink crest and matching armor would stand out most places, but in the dim red neon, it was kind of washed out, painting the pink with the same reddish glow it painted her brown spotted skin. Her gun, which she never got to have on the Citadel, didn't cause her to stand out of the crowd, not on Omega - it would probably have been more out of place if she hadn't been armed. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, though - she wouldn't admit it, but she'd never shot anyone, only ever pyjaks or varren.
The harsh lights and loud music of Afterlife drew in the rambunctious young krogan, and without really trying she found herself on the floor of the club. This was more her scene! There was more energy here than the entirety of her clan back home, and it was more intoxicating than the glass of ryncol she downed at the bar. She was enthralled by the dancers, the barkeepers, the lights - but she wasn't one to hold back. She threw herself onto the dance floor with the confidence of someone who'd been on a dance floor before, and she didn't even mind - or even notice - the wide berth she was given by the night club's other patrons.
Lost in the fun of the club, she let herself grow blind to any potential dangers that might have been lurking in Omega's many shadows, her guard lower with each shot she took. It would be a miracle if she wasn't completely wasted by the time she stumbled back to her meager rented room on the other side of the spaceport, but she wasn't worried about that. She was completely lost in her own world - and in her world, life was good, this was fun!
llSunflowerll
Or so she thought. When she actually arrived on the spaceport, she was surprised by how few krogans she actually saw on Omega. Of course there were plenty of asari, and a lot of batarians and vorcha, but she wasn't expecting quite so many humans, salarians, and turians as she found there. At least from what her mother said, they were too - ugh. She knew better than to treat anything Raigh had told her about non-krogans as fact. It was hard to unlearn everything you'd ever heard, though.
Lyze was an average size for a krogan, but she still towered over most of the people she passed. Her bright pink crest and matching armor would stand out most places, but in the dim red neon, it was kind of washed out, painting the pink with the same reddish glow it painted her brown spotted skin. Her gun, which she never got to have on the Citadel, didn't cause her to stand out of the crowd, not on Omega - it would probably have been more out of place if she hadn't been armed. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, though - she wouldn't admit it, but she'd never shot anyone, only ever pyjaks or varren.
The harsh lights and loud music of Afterlife drew in the rambunctious young krogan, and without really trying she found herself on the floor of the club. This was more her scene! There was more energy here than the entirety of her clan back home, and it was more intoxicating than the glass of ryncol she downed at the bar. She was enthralled by the dancers, the barkeepers, the lights - but she wasn't one to hold back. She threw herself onto the dance floor with the confidence of someone who'd been on a dance floor before, and she didn't even mind - or even notice - the wide berth she was given by the night club's other patrons.
Lost in the fun of the club, she let herself grow blind to any potential dangers that might have been lurking in Omega's many shadows, her guard lower with each shot she took. It would be a miracle if she wasn't completely wasted by the time she stumbled back to her meager rented room on the other side of the spaceport, but she wasn't worried about that. She was completely lost in her own world - and in her world, life was good, this was fun!
