
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from France
seen from Egypt
seen from Ireland
seen from Ukraine
seen from China
seen from Yemen

seen from Belarus
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Spain

seen from Singapore
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
"Fuck," he groaned, rolling over onto his back. He knew he was on the ground, and he knew he was injured, but that's all he could figure out. His senses were seriously impaired to the point that he couldn't really hear anything but muffled sounds of an area with a fair amount of people in it, and when he opened his eyes, everything was a blur. How he got here, where his was, or even what day it was had been completely lost to him.
As he curled into a weak fetal position, his palm felt as though it had caught fire, forcing him to growl in pain. Still, he let his eyes remain shut as he used his other hand to feel the spot where the burning seemed to come from, only to regret doing that seconds later. Something--or someone--had used something on his palm that had literally burned right through his thick turian flesh, leaving the skin raw and blistered.
"Fucking--" Another groan.
The least he could do was hope that there was someone he could contact via omni-tool message, not that he had any friends to speak of, and maybe they could lend him a hand. When he pulled up his contacts, however, he was presented with something strange.
[NO CONTACTS]
At first, he thought it was his impaired vision, not an actual message telling him his omni-tool was blank. He glanced at it again, only to receive the same message. No contacts.
Instead of moving from where he was, he stayed, taking in deep breaths as he tried to discern where he was. It smelled like...Omega. The station had been his home in years past, so it made sense for him to be here, though he can't recall how he got on the ground or what part of Omega he was in. Something was very, very, very wrong, and he wasn't in the right state of mind to figure it out. For now, he stayed put, waiting for his senses to return to back to normal.
[If you were following Kanner before, please read]
Kanner has had something happen to him, as I had started to outline in drabbles that have now been erased, and he has lost his memory for the last 5 years. That's right. Anyone who interacted with him, he no longer remembers. He has no contacts, no friends, no resources, and nowhere to live at this time. You are more than welcome to speak to him like your character knows (him only if he did know them), he will just be very confused and not believe them. His personality is mostly the same, so there's that.
He'll be up to his usual shenanigans shortly.
Headcanon
Thirteen has never had a relationship that lasted beyond one night, and is fairly convinced that that's how it's always going to be for him. If there was a woman that wanted to pursue an actual relationship with him, he'd most likely show hesitation, as again he views himself as unstable.
Headcanon
Even though he's repressed the entire accident that nearly killed him as a teen, he's realized that he must have been in a vehicle crash, since he gets extremely anxious when he has to ride in a skycar for more than five minutes. Ships don't bother him in the least, but shuttles and skycars do. He's never admitted this to anyone.
Headcanon
Thirteen is able to understand a few phrases in several alien languages due to the multiple foster homes he lived in as a child. He can't speak any other languages, but he understands, "Excuse me," and "What time is it?" in five other alien tongues.
Headcanon
Thirteen smokes in times of stress, but considers himself a social smoker otherwise. He prefers to roll them himself if he has the chance.
WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU ARE IN A BAD MOOD?
Cigarettes.