[center][h1]Luna; Convention Center, 600 years ago[/h1][/center]
The mood in the convention center after Garson’s speech was certainly a festive one, full of hope and wonderment, yet it seemed that one man seemed unmoved by the speech, more interested in his omni-tool than by the speech given by the founder of the Initiative. The reason for the Batarian’s, for that was the race of this man in particular, interest in his omni-tool laid on the fact that he was composing a message to his absent family. Again and again he tried to compose the message, but the Batarian quickly grew frustrated, seemingly dissatisfied with what hat he had written, and erased what he had previously written.

Khosin let out a sigh as he erased what seemed like the thousandth attempt at writing to his family. Ever since what had happened in Hegemony space, after his confrontation with colonel Sed’mevan, he hadn't spoken to his family, not that his family had made an attempt to keep contact. He had been disowned after all, a fact that still pained him to admit even if he had, to some extent, come to terms with it. “[i]Still, I owe them an explanation of what will happen to me….of where I’ll go, even if they don't want anything to do with me.[/i]” He thought sadly, shaking his head and closing down the omni-tool. He had been stuck for too long in writing that message, it'd do him no good to stay stuck through the whole party trying to write that message. 

In the end, even without his constant attempt to try and write a letter to his family, Khosin’s mood remained rather sour and melancholic, being one of the few individuals stuck in such a mindset. The fact that he was alone and that as a Batarian there weren't many attempts to approach him to socialize did nothing to help him, he missed his family and wished they'd be there, even if they wouldn't join him in Andromeda, and what few acquaintances he had managed to keep over the years were either unable to come, for one reason or another, or he had no idea where they were in the wider galaxy, and the cynical side of him told him that, with his luck, there'd be no way they would be in the wider party. 

That of course changed when he saw a drone conspicuously scanning him, his four eyes easily catching the drone despite its attempt to hide itself among other drones. It took him a second or two to recognize the drone as one that he had seen during his time on the Borealis. Shaking his head slightly a smile formed in Khosin’s face as he stood up and began following it towards its owner. 

[hr]
[center][h1]Eos; Prodromos, 600 years later[/h1][/center]
Khosin stared at his own reflection in the restroom of the barracks on Prodromos. The months stuck on the Nexus, and the stress that had permeated those same months, had done him no favors the Batarian thought as he stared at the image on the mirror, now noticeably thinner and more haggard than what he had looked even at his worst all those centuries ago back in the Milky Way. “[i]Then again, back in the Milky Way I never had to deal with the Scourge or with an armed revolt inside a space station stranded in an unknown Galaxy with little to no resources[/i].” He thought grimly to himself as he splashed his face with water. Yes, the Initative's first months, or more accurately all the months before the arrival of the Hyperion, had been one trial after another. First it was the encounter with the Starscourge and the toll of life it had taken on the station, hundreds of people dying in their cryo pods before even waking up, including the founder of the Initiative and her inner circle. Then it has been the issue of the mutiny, which promptly spiraled out of control into a rebellion proper. The thought of the exiles always soured Khosin's mood; he could understand their grievances, he had been in their position long ago and had felt the same bitterness. And yet by their actions they might have doomed the Initiative in its entirety, dooming themselves and everyone on the different arks that had been scattered around the cluster at that point.

Shaking his head, Khosin took a deep breath "[i]Best not to focus on them, we'll deal with the Exiles when we run into them again[/i]." He thought, anger and bitterness swelling in equal measure in his heart. He was about to head out of the outpost’s perimeter to go for a walk, and maybe to nail a few of the critters that encroached the outpost’s perimeter sporadically, so as to clear his head and calm himself down when he received a message to his omni-tool.

[color=orangered][B]FORM UP OUTSIDE: 10 MINUTES[/B][/color]

With a sigh, and one last splash of water to his face to clear his thoughts, Khosin made his way back to the barracks. Everyone, with the exception of their sole Krogan who was putting on his boots as best as he could tell, where already outside and at the muster point. Opening his locker Khosin pulled out his trusty Kishock rifle and placed it on the back of his armor, letting the mag holsters do their work, before before proceeding to do the same with his Mattock and AT-12 Raider shotgun. 

With his weapons secured to their respective mag holsters, and deciding to forego his helmet, Khosin made his way to the front if the barracks where he stood in line alongside the rest of Fireteam Echo. “Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh. Ex-Hegemony military, former security officer under Security Director Sloane Kelly. Reporting for duty as ordered, sir.”