Latest Posts by call-me-spectre-five - Page 3

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ? how do they express that pride ?

// Sabine definitely takes gratification in the company they keep. After choosing to leave the Imperial Academy, she was ostracized from their family and spent some time wondering whether or not they deserved the isolation they received. Ketsu’s betrayal only strengthened this resolve and left them in doubt about their worthiness of friendship. This affected her ability to trust, and the first few months with the Spectres were a rough adjustment. Now, though, she loves them all fiercely. Sabine can’t believe that she got lucky enough to make the new family that they did, and they hold the Ghost crew in high respect and admiration. Though they’ll brag about their second family for hours and hours to any willing ear, she might not always vocalize that respect directly to the Spectres. Instead, she likes to focus on silent acts of love. If you find yourself with a new bottle of your favorite spirit of choice, find your blasters checked and polished, or if you feature in one of their artworks, just know-- Sabine truly loves you. // 

@spectreoflasan

❛  don’t waste the time i don’t have .  ❜

“Oh, but, general,” she countered in a dry whisper, toying with the hem of his collar, as though brushing off some loose dust. “I think you have plenty of time for me. I think you want to know exactly what I have to say, because you can’t stand the thought of someone holding information over your head. Besides, I know you have nowhere better to be than the lap of another Imperial or holonet reporter. Isn’t that right, Armitage?”

@generally-scheming

cptfulcrum​ // alexsandr kallus

Kallus  has  long  since  known  that  the  Ghost  crew  had  forgiven  him  for  the  atrocities  he’s  committed.  Even  as  he  struggled  to  understand  how  or  why,  he  would  be  grateful  to  his  final  days  for  friends  such  as  them.  Sabine  would  understand  the  significance  of  this  in  a  way  that  no  one  else  tasked  would.  They  would  understand  the  research  that  had  gone  into  this,  the  inner  turmoil  while  he  had  struggled  with  the  Imperial  idea  of  his  body.  Years  later  and  it  haunted  him,  the  guidelines  beat  into  their  soldiers.  “  Thank  you.  “  he  said  simply,  nodding  his  head  as  he  put  his  personal  code  into  the  datapad.  Then  he  handed  it  off  to  them,  the  picture  simple  and  not  able  to  be  understood  to  someone  that  didn’t  know  him.  The  Fulcrum  Symbol  featured,  with  fauna  native  to  Lira  San  in  another  image.  Finally,  a  third  image  of  some  flowers  native  to  Lasan.  He’s  no  artist,  but  has  a  vision.  He  knows  Sabine  is  the  one  to  execute  that  for  him.  “  This  is  quite  personal  to  me.  I  want  a  tattoo.  “  it’s  to  the  point,  lacks  the  emotion  he  has  surrounding  the  whole  idea,  and  his  insecurities  about  how  Zeb  would  feel  about  the  whole  thing.  “  If  it’s  amenable  for  you,  I’d  prefer  you  to  help  me  with  this.  “  

The image drew a sharp inhale from the Mandalorian. The concept was striking, a symbol equal parts sharp and soft, a contrast of edges and curves. It was as though the picture itself was blooming before her eyes; she could already see the colors springing to life, filling the spaces between lines. They thought of the equipment that sat just inside her ship and the weeks since it had been used. It was a practice she was well-versed in-- but this time was different. It was so much more than ink and skin.

“Kallus, I...” But what words could she speak to answer a request so heavy? Sabine understood, of course they understood, what this meant to him. They could imagine the struggle he’d faced just to ask so much of her, the nights he must have wrestled with the regulations the Empire had imposed on him since boyhood. The tattoos she had were-- like so many other things-- an act of rebellion against them. And now it was his turn. Wordlessly, she nodded, holding his tired gaze with their own. Their grip on his hand tightened. 

“When do you want to do this? I can have a few digital drafts made up withing a few hours, but I won’t rush you. Take it on your own time, and I’ll follow you.”

kryzeofmandalore​ // korkie kryze

   Having awoken on Mandalore, Korke wasn’t sure when he was, clearly time had passed as Mandalore had looked far worse than the last time he’d been there. Korkie wasted no time finding a ship that besides a few repairs was still flyable. Korkie now was planning on finding other Mandalorians, they would have to rebuild their world, and their people together. First things first, he had to find his Aunt Bo-Katan. She would know what to do. Much to Korkie’s relief many cantina workers did not want issues with someone in a full suit of Beskar and so were quick to give him the information he asked of them, although he imagined his being polite about his inquiries had added to to their compliance.  

Korkie had received word that there was a Mandalorian sighted at Coronet City on Corellia, and so Korkie quickly made his way there not wanting to lose the lead he now had. Arriving on the planet, it didn’t take long before Korkie finally found the Mandalorian he as looking for approaching them, he removed his helmet, smile on his face.  “It is so nice to finally see another Mandalorian, from what I understand we’ve become a rarer and rarer sight. I am Korkie Kryze of House Kryze, who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” 

@call-me-spectre-five​

Hesitation rolled over their skin like a wave of static. It was electric, the surprise. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned the day’s events to map themselves out, but it wasn’t by any means a negative. This newcomer seemed friendly enough, and there was something in his armor that she had seen before. The patterns, the linework, it was familiar. The hues were reminiscent of Bo-Katan Kryze’s followers. And at the admission of his name, the younger Mandalorian was granted some semblance of clarity. Following his gestures, she removed their helm, too, and offered an extended hand.

“Su cuy’gar! Forgive me, but...you’re Duchess Satine and Bo-Katan’s nephew, right? I think we’ve met before. I am Sabine of Clan Wren, House Vizsla.” A pregnant pause filled the air before they continued with a question long-anticipated (just one of many). It was one they’d held on to for years, waiting for the right pair of ears to receive. “Perhaps you knew my mother, Ursa?”

She hoped the figure before her harbored no ill will at her alliance shaped by birth. It’s not like there was much family left to be loyal to, anyways.

cravked​ // trilla suduri

there was a natural spark of curiosity that arose as a result of their statement. asking would have been inviting in more conversation, given the other room to ask perhaps more personal questions about herself, which was truthfully what trilla was trying to avoid. there was no reason for her to have anything against them, even if relatively minor judgments naturally slipped in here and there. but at least thus far, they have proved capable of deterring anything unwanted.

“what kind of information are you looking for? i might be able to point you in the right direction.” that was very unlikely. trilla hadn’t been on the planet long and did not intend to stay on it for much longer, only knew enough to keep herself blending in and without drawing undue attention. still, the curiosity was there, and there was no reason for sabine to know otherwise. lying was something that there were too good at.

the offer was unexpected, although trilla had already given them a ride to an extent. a few minutes to town wasn’t exactly equivocal to somewhere off world, especially in terms of time spent together. “i have a ship of my own,” she answered with a simple shrug of her left shoulder. “that’s not really an offer you should go around making.” the words are harsh by themself, a beat passing before they added, “given your apparent lack of direction.”

.

And here was the fork in the road, the other shoe dropped. Sabine bit the inside of their cheek, the question of whether or not to reveal true alliances a weight on her tongue. She wondered about the biases Trilla held about her-- of course, the armor and its heritage carried assumptions (and they weren’t always positive; more than one scar could attest to that). Sabine resolved that the truth may as well will out this one. If there was going to be a fight, the Mandalorian trusted their instinct. Knew her skills.

“I’ve been tracking the remains of old Imperial intelligence units-- hard to pin them down, but worth a great reward to the New Republic.” Okay, so it wasn’t the full truth. It wasn’t for bounty that she worked, but for something else. For redemption. No, it was loyalty to a shared vision created by the sacrifices they and so many others had made. For the Spectres. For Mandalore. But the admittance answered enough in its words alone.

Then, at the half-insult--

“Hey, you just caught me on an off day. I knew where I was going, I just got a shit bike rental. Happens to the best of us.” Again, the Mando suspected that the person sitting across from her didn’t seem like the type to ask for assistance, but hey, they’d been wrong before. And it never hurt to return politeness to strangers, especially if there was any chance she’d run into them in the galaxy again. “If that ever changes-- if you decide you want or need help-- I’d be grateful to fulfill the debt.”

Sabine awaited their reaction in its totality, watched the direction hands travelled and eyes wandered. The next move was Trilla’s to make. Sabine felt no need to reach for the blasters or hidden vibroblades yet, but that could easily change. 

generalspectre​ // hera syndulla

“  You  know,  it’s  starting  to  get  lonely  on  this  ship.  “  Hera  teases  as  they  stand,  arms  already  wrapping  around  the  colorful  armor  of  their  child.  While  neither  Hera  nor  Jacen  had  much  interest  in  him  becoming  a  jedi,  Luke  would  come  sometimes  and  work  on  control  with  her  son.  Small  things  to  help  him  get  by  in  the  galaxy.  This  was  one  of  those  times.  It  was  hard  to  trust  anyone  but  their  family  with  him,  but  they  knew  that  Jacen  would  be  in  good  hands.  “  But  I’m  proud  of  you.  What  you’re  doing  is  important.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​​

.

Their praise and embrace brought a smile to Sabine’s lips. The two shared a language outside of the spoken word. When you’ve been to hell and back with your family at your side, there are some things better expressed in the pauses between words, the silence before speech.

“Thank you, Hera. You know I’m always happy to see you.” They dropped their bags in the old cargo room, happy to see her artwork still adorning the walls of the Ghost. “If you ever want to get the little womp rat out of your lekku for a weekend, give me a call.” 

Looking closer, they noticed colorful scribbles on the wall beside her own. Huh. The kiddo wasn’t too old but his control of line, his use of color...it was already well-developed. The thought of her vod’ika taking after them at all made Sabine swell with pride.

“Jacen’s works, I assume?”

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   THE  CANTEEN  IS  EASILY  CAUGHT,  its coolness permeating past leather.   it’ll be another while before they drink from it,  at least until they can find another retreat from eyes,  though they raise it up with a slight shake to signal thanks.   they swallow down the lingering iron.

as anxiety passes through her,  nicks at her speech,  din lifts themself from against the ship’s side and approaches her with a languid stride.   there’s not much else to indicate that there shouldn’t be so much worry around questioning them   ─   though when they finally reach them,  a hand grips their upper arm as reassurance before falling back to their side.   the touch is as brief as a breath.   in truth,  they’re surprised she had waited this long to ask.   her patience is wholly appreciated,  of course,  but they do not open themself from within.   they could hide themself infinitely.   a being encased in shell upon shell,  they must be pried with anything but a knife.   ❝  yeah.   ❞   their tone is open,  paired with a nod.   wariness lies there,  too.  ❝  go ahead.  ❞  

in turn,  nerves do not bind them but an old weight pulls at their spine,  pooling at their feet and the ends of their fingers.   they’re not sure what to expect,  what vital differentiations will contrast the both of them.   one of their tenets already invites perplexed looks   ─   sometimes it leads others to cruelty,  like it was a challenge to break it for them.    ❝  i’d like to know more about yours,  too  ─    ❞   really,  they already know the response before it leaves them.   but if their companion sought permission for their history,  they will give the same courtesy.  ❝  ─   if you’re willing.  ❞

The trepidation, though never malignant, was always present. It was a dance Sabine had practiced with every sibling by creed, but none more so than this one. There was no resentment or exhaustion or shame in it-- this was just the cost of their relationship. And Sabine was more than content to measure their words, to weigh their steps, to share meals in separate rooms, to avoid painful questions-- if it meant spending time with her friend. For them, it was worth it. 

Their touch was as gentle as it was brief, and it returned her to the present. Sabine greeted his gentility with a waning smile from unmasked lips. Their answer was relief, another brick to the altar of trust built by them both. Of course, he knew her reply. Though nothing in the steel countenance conceded it, the fact made itself known. She would share with him whatever was asked. (They appreciated the formality nonetheless.)

“Yeah. Um. I think that would be...Yeah, I would like that.”

There was no telling where to start. Certain things were known, yes, but others? How were they to tread the trauma they’d experienced in the last few years alone? And how much of it did they really share? Amid the torrent of questions, a quiet reassurance chimed from the back of their mind: let’s start here. 

“Did you-- er, do you have a family?”

sabine wren

“i left to save everyone!”

chaotickylia​ // kylia horne

Kylia beams with a brilliant light. Happiness and warmth wrap around her body like a blanket in the cold. She’s filled with joy and she’s trying to remember the last time she had felt this way or this free, but she realizes that it doesn’t matter! She’s in the moment with her new friend and they seem to be rather comfortable with each other’s company and presence, and really, that was the moment that Kylia knew was important. “Thank you! Sabine is pretty too and so are you!” She draws a little in her vocals but she means every word of it. The rush if it was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Kylia tried to breathe it all in. She wanted her new friend to enjoy it too as they raced together, hands touching, a part of them connecting the other together. The feeling was still there. This lightness that starts from her toes and wafts all the way up to the tip of her head and she finds herself laughing with the other, a magical sensation and sound. At the words, Kylia looks up, once her feet stop moving and she sees the stars spinning with each other in time to the beat, finding herself leaning a little too far backwards, but not stopping as she falls to her back on the ground, laughing once again. “They look far more gorgeous from this angle! Look at them sway with each other, Sabine!”

.

Wow. It was like the stars were shining just for them, light seeping down into her bones. The pull of it was everything, a string tied from her chest to the sky, pulling them up, up, up! Oh, it was a tether, but it was also freeing! They watched their friend fall to the ground and mimicked the motion, laying beside her with a sort of breathless triumph. It was a few honey-sweet moments before they finally spoke a response into existence.

“It’s so...It’sss...like when the p-poets write about the galaxy as an ocean, or a...” the words escaped her tongue, and they knew they weren’t making sense, but there was some comfort in that. Not everything had to. “In my family, there’s a story about the stars, right? Th-the most noble mando’ade, the ones that have passed on, they still watch over us.” 

The thought made her sad, but not in a way that hurt. In a way that was reassuring, a reminder that they were feeling. That she was here.

“Er, Kylia. D’ya know what time it is? I gotta f-find a couple more people before the night is over. You can come with, if ya want, but ya don’t have to. You have somewhere safe to stay the night?”

generally-scheming​ // armitage hux

“You should be so lucky.” Hux bristled, his pitch creeping higher. The foreign words unsettled him. There was little he hated more than not knowing things. He turned to a communications officer seated at a nearby console, his voice crisp as an icicle. “What language is that? What does it mean?”

“Mando’a, sir.” The officer’s mouth twitched. Was that a laugh he was stifling?

“Look at me when I am talking to you, officer.” The officer’s amusement was highly inappropriate. “What did she say?”

“She said…” The comms officer’s face went pale as he met Hux’s gaze. Looking as if he were in real, physical pain, he squeaked out, “ ‘Cheers, sweetheart.’ ” He cleared his throat. “Sir.”

Silence descended on the bridge. These officers were well-trained; they knew better than to laugh audibly. But Hux could feel the held breaths, the shoulders shaking with the struggle to contain their amusement   (his shame).   His jaw clenched. He would maintain professionalism, even if these classless rebels did not. “Thank you, Officer Norton,” he said quietly. He pivoted to address the entire bridge, the very picture of control until he opened his mouth.

“Divert power from deflector shields to boosters! GET them IN RANGE and FIRE TURBOLASERS! NOW !!” Officers scrambled around him. Face burning, he lowered his voice to a stiff sneer as he spoke into the comms. “I hope you like it hot, Mandalorian. Shame that the rest of your planet didn’t.”

. 

A crew member indicated that the larger vessel was shifting power to thrusters, and she nodded without much concern. These ex-Imperials may have more firepower, but Sabine knew this ship, knew its people. The Rebels were faster and knew the less-traveled hyperspace lanes like home. They had to if they wanted to survive.

At the response on the com, Sabine smirked. So, it was that easy. Though the comment should have stung, the Mandalorian shrugged it off for now. This wasn’t the first time someone had said such things to them in the heat of battle. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Were it another bound by Creed, they might have panicked, have spiraled into anxiety or fear or guilt-- but to this hut’uun, all they heard were words, devoid of knowledge or feeling.

“Oh, low blow, general. You kiss your superiors with that mouth?”

She asked, but had little doubt about it. From what they heard, some Imps were willing to do just about anything for a promotion. It wasn’t her business, but it was amusing. They gave their attention back to the focus at hand: the jump to New Republic space just a few parsecs away was calculated, and the only thing left was to give the command.

“Oh, and translator? Why don’t you tell the general-- te’habi bevik gar’shebs! I’m sure you’d all be better for it!”

As she gave the signal for the jump, they smiled lightly under their palm. Secretly, they hoped to run into him again-- this was the most fun she’d had all week.

cptfulcrum​ // alexsandr kallus

“  I  have  a  request,  if  you’re  up  for  it.  “  His  face  is  neutral,  but  there’s  a  nervous  way  that  his  eyes  twitch  to  the  datapad  down  at  his  hands  that  would  show  to  someone  that  knows  him,  like  Sabine,  that  the  request  is  not  simply  work  related.  “  If  not,  I  am  hoping  you  can  point  me  in  the  right  direction  of  someone  who  can  help.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​​ 

.

With a youthful smirk that her mother would have chided at, Sabine rolled their eyes. “Kallus, how long have we been friends?” But instead of waiting for an answer, she proceeded with the same humor. “Years, di’kut. You’ve been a pain in my ass for years.” Then, noticing the anxiety he carried, the fluttering of eyelashes, fingertips-- she stilled, reaching to place their hand over his own. Hoping to provide some fraction of reassurance. Voice quieter and slower, they answered, eyes never wavering from his gaze. “Hey, you’re my friend. Of course I’m gonna help you. What can I do?”

generally-scheming​ // armitage hux

“Buckethead?” Hux turned to the petty officer stationed nearby. “They do know that officers don’t wear…” A pilot glanced back at Hux from under a rounded helmet that flared dramatically at the base. Hux cleared his throat.

“Bold talk, rebel scum. If you’re so confident, why don’t you come a bit closer?” He gazed out from the bridge of the light command cruiser he’d acquired for what was meant to be a stealth patrol. The rebel ship hailing them was just beyond range of their turbolasers.

“Oya, cyar’ika, at least buy me dinner before you start the sweet-talking, okay?” Sabine teased with an amusement that was only half nerves. Their Rebel ship was still out of range. She just needed time to calculate the hyperspace route. “The again, you’re not really my type. And, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess I’m not really yours, huh?”

The speaker had some sort of pride, they figured. Something to prove. Probably has a shit-ton of people under their ranks, but was still starving for blood, for a chance to be the best. Sabine had seen this type before. It was all too easy to piss them off, and it brought a genuine smile to their face.

“Listen, I’d love to stick around for that date, general,” she emphasized the title for effect (hopefully the other officers were listening). “But I think I’m gonna take a rain check.” Silently, they diverted power to the hyperdrive, but didn’t yet signal for the jump. She wanted to hear first if there were any parting remarks. Much as they hated what little remains of the Empire were left, she did enjoy this kind of banter. And who knows? Maybe they’d run into each other again.

for   @beskarbuir and @finitefm​  // din djarin and tarre vizsla

──   MANDALORE,  YOUR  SCENERY  IS  LIKE  FAMINE.   mandalore,  the most stagnated,  ravaged part of it,  is too lucid for him.   the landscape straddles between home and desolation,  thriving in that liminal space;  that is to say,  it welcomes him without communion.  but that is alright,  for his learnings were true.   this is a cursed planet,  far past death and onto lying in wait.   feverish and weak.   imperials looming over and gorging on the fruit of their lands,  gloating as its acidic juice drips into the corpse’s eyes.   mandalore bares it’s clenched teeth and hungers,  too.  for ichor,  for people,  for love.

din will not be the one to satiate it.   the love he offers is for his people beyond this soured heart,  reared in their ways in places far from here.   they are a nomadic people steeped in an idea.   they are more than mandalore alone.   still,  he stood close to his companion in these past days,  keeping an eye on their surroundings but mostly on them.  it almost seemed like she would choke on the prospect of coming here,  of walking into the maw of their once home.   since their arrival,  her grief was mute;  hemorrhage kept internal.   he hopes they know that if they dotter,  he will bear their weight. 

though there,  in the distance,  rises a haunting:  arriving in beskar adorned in gilded fractures, as if shattered and rebuilt.   his steps nearly stop there,  hand so willing to pull sabine back for her safety.   to din,  they are an unknown beauty and terror looming forth   ─   and though the feeling is transient,  he dallies the tiniest bit slower than sabine when she perseveres in the face of a phantom.   then,  she drops to her knee as if the very sight of them is sacrosanct,  bowing their head in reverence.   ‘ tarre vizsla ’ ,  they had said,  and all besides the clan name and shriek hawk garners no recognition. 

his next move is less calculated.   there is a bow of his head,  hand to the heart while the other still grips his spear like a walking stick.   a commingled greeting less pronounced as sabine’s,  but respectful to a title that eludes him.   ❝  su cuy’gar.  ❞  a fraction of an accent lilts his words,  obvious in comparison between him and them,  but there is no shame in it.   he lifts his head and glances to his companion,  then back,    ❝  as had we.  ❞   concern edges his voice,  ❝  how long have you been here ?  ❞   this is a dead land.  there will be no survival here.

the   reactions   tarre   has   faced   from   their   people   have   been   many,   in   this   time.   they   cannot   say   that   the   awe   is   their   least   favorite,   for   they   have   felt   the   brunt   outraged   violence   at   assumed   deception.   the   PAIN   that   lay   beneath   those   interactions   bests   the   creeping   discomfort   of   respect   for   a   mythos   larger   than   their   life.   they   were   mand’alor   in   their   time,   after   all   –   they   know   the   INTENSITY   of   mandalorian   devotion.   but   they   have   only   made   martyrs.   to   BE   one   ?   it   is   something   entirely   different.  

when   she   kneels,   they   are   surprised   by   the   instinct   to   kneel   as   well,   to   find   the   level   of   her   eyes   beneath   her   colorful   helmet   and   assure   her   that   deference   is   largely   unnecessary.   but   this   is   not   a   force   call,   only   human   LONGING,   and   they   have   spent   years   attempting   to   calm   their   gut   punches   of   emotion.   they   mirror   her   companion   instead,   a   hand   raised   to   their   heart.   these   two   are   sharply   different   in   more   than   their   armor.   their   knowledge   of   HISTORY,   they   can   assume,   yet   the   importance   lies   in   the   force.   she   is   fireworks.   he   is   something   more   unobtrusive.   they   find   both   intriguing   on   a   level   that   may   speak   only   to   their   own   desire   for   new   connection   with   their   people.

there   are   more   pressing   matters   than   any   slowly   sharpening   edge   of   desperation,   however.   their   voice   is   smooth   as   mandalore’s   hot   winds   as   they   reply,   ❛   i   am   them.   please,   RISE   –   i   am   no   mand’alor   in   this   time.   ❜   they   would   insist   that   ALL   mandalorians   are   clan   enough   to   do   away   with   such   formalities,   if   they   had   not   begun   to   grasp   that   these   descendants   of   theirs   are   not   nearly   so   united.   ❛   i   am   glad   to   find   others.   what   is   left   of   history   is   something   worth   revisiting,   i   believe.   ❜

the   bittersweetness   of   it   all   is   beginning   to   burn.   they   tuck   the   feeling   underneath   their   tongue   and   let   it   rest   there,   tangled   up   in   the   core   of   them.   ❛   only   briefly.   there   is   better   accommodation   not   too   far   from   here.   i   wanted   to   see   what   this   became.   ❜   their   words   come   freely,   yet   remain   careful   with   that   bittersweet,   that   knot   of   feeling.   their   head   tilts   slightly   as   they   look   back   to   the   ruins.   ❛   this   is   a   place   of   BLOOD.   it   is   good   that   it   is   no   home.   ❜   it   had   been   theirs,   once,   and   they   suppose   that   that   is   the   tragedy   of   it.   this   loss   will   not   leave   them.

So, it was them, Mand’alor be’ruyot. How or why the leader had returned during their peoples’ most desolate hour was far beyond her understanding. Despite years spent in the company of Jedi, this was perhaps the most impossible thing she’d ever witnessed. Tongue heavy, Sabine found that they had no words-- no amount of training could have ever prepared her for this. Still, at their ancestor’s command, she rose, glancing over at their brother-in-arms.

The younger Mandalorian knew that their companion was not as versed in the history of their people-- which was not something she faulted them for. It just was, a product of circumstance. They examined him-- a shared language of silence only the two knew, unreliant on the visages hidden beneath beskar. This was the nature of their friendship: an understanding that silence had its own place in the conversations they held. So much was shared with so little sound. Despite the unease and confusion that now plagued them both, Sabine understood.

Attention turned, shifting back to the words spoken by one who held so many stories from an age lifetimes before her own. Guilt seized their breath once again. This place was no home, not for anyone. Nor had it been for years, and there were few more to blame than she. Sabine felt their voice waver and crack in response to the bitterness of the haastal.

“No. It is not.” So many skeletons haunted this wasteland once called prosperous, once called beloved. “It belongs now only to the mercy of the Ka’ra above.”

Noticing how uncomfortable the formalities had made their ancestor, Sabine extended an unsteady arm, anticipation of the traditional salute for Mando’ade.

“I am Sabine of Clan Wren and House Vizsla.” There was a moment of pause, consideration. Her companion could share their name if he wanted. It was optional, as most words between the two were. “It is an honor to share your name. Gedet’ye, what may I call you if not ner Mand’alor?”

They couldn’t help but hope her friend wasn’t too lost right now. She gave them a glance as if to reassure him that she’d explain later.

xspectre-1​ // kanan jarrus

it had taken kanan years to get here. to feel this comfortable with his emotions… with others. having children had never been the plan, even when sabine and ezra had joined. kanan had insisted they wouldn’t matter– they would be a crew, that was it. 

oh how wrong he had been. 

the family the six had created… it was the reason for their success. for their strength. 

but watching them grow– seeing them now. he couldn’t have guessed how it would have made him feel. how proud he had become. 

kanan smiled a bit, a small chuckle on the edge of his lips. they had always been okay in the end, hadn’t they? perhaps their collective number of loses keeping them from… much. 

but as sabine continued, the small smile fell, perhaps sad to divert so quickly. to face reality. what he had missed– what he had caused even. 

not that the words were expected. 

“what- no, i mean. no more than anyone,” he continued, hands returning to them, worried they might slip away. “i mean, that’s what the rebellion is, isn’t it?”

.

Seeing his smile again...it was like a sunbath after a year of winters, a remnant from a time when her family-- not just one, but both-- had been whole. Years ago, they couldn’t have considered this a possibility. Couldn’t have imagined she’d be standing here on the shining plains of Lothal (a place that held so much shared history for the Spectres). Yet, there she was: in the arms of their parent, now returned to them at last. It was a gentle reminder: in the here and now, the Mandalorian was truly safe. And that was enough.

They almost had to concede a chuckle at his disbelief. She’d seen him perform feats they’d never be able to dream of, had seen him walk through blaster fire alone and blind-- yet return home unscathed. And still he tried to play humble.

“I know it’s hard to believe, right? Who would have thought a knucklehead like you could ever be a war hero?”

She looked up at the mask that adorned his face, the eyes of the jai’galaar still in tact. It had been years since they had painted them on, but for him, it was only a matter of weeks. Months, maybe. Despite the time, she remembered well enough. Those first few nights after Malachor, in the cabin of the Ghost (when words were seldom spoken, but the pain and grief were a shared). Shared by those that loved each other most--

“Dank farrik, Kanan! Have you met with anyone else? Zeb, Hera?”

Therein was hidden the silent question only she knew was being asked of him: did Kanan know about Jacen? Did he know he was a father not only by bond, but also by blood? By the Ka’ra, he needed to know they were safe. He needed to see them healthy, and alive. 

location: mandalore

characters: tarre vizsla, sabine wren, din djarin

finitefm // tarre vizsla

cracks   of   golden   beskar   GLEAMED   under   the   harsh   light   as   they   watched   the   contrasting   pair   of   mandalorians   make   their   way   through   the   ruins   of   the   square.   one,   purely   unadorned   silver   –   the   other,   the   most   eyecatching   burst   of   color   that   they   had   ever   before   seen.   that   alone   would   have   been   enough   to   draw   their   attention   without   the   force   screaming   like   a   JAI’GALAAR   in   their   ears,   a   resounding   call   of   fate   pulling   them   forwards.

the   silhouette   that   had   graced   a   thousand   mandalorian   memorials   stepped   out   of   the   rubble,   a   hand   raised   in   calm   greeting.   they   had   no   darksaber   to   raise,   but   a   blade   lay   sheathed   on   their   hip.   the   shriekhawk   symbol   rested   like   a   crown   on   the   front   of   their   helmet,   their   dark   cape   swaying   behind   them.   they   looked   as   if   they   had   stepped   out   of   a   LEGEND   to   take   physical   form,   and   maybe   they   had   :   tarre   vizsla,   far   from   their   time,   mand’alor   that   was   and   shall   be.

they   stood   where   once   had   been   a   CITY   ,   now   left   for   the   sand   to   reclaim   as   so   many   pieces   of   mandalorian   history   had   been,   preserved   only   in   holos.   it   was   undomed,   no   longer   suitable   for   life,   but   it   had   been   a   home   to   them.   they   had   laid   their   early   plans   here,   had   raised   their   call   for   vengeance   –   the   site   of   the   old   vizsla   compound,   the   old   vizsla   MASSACRE.   they   had   eventually   left   it   abandoned   during   their   lifetime,   privately   named   the   ground   unholy.   battles   had   raged   there.   history   was   made   there.   the   first   true   test   of   their   darksaber.   it   was   a   place   of   memory,   and   it   burned.

but   the   unflinching   metal   of   their   helmet   revealed   nothing   of   the   ache   beneath   their   boots   as   they   came   to   a   stop   in   front   of   the   pair.   ❛   su   cuy’gar,   ❜   they   greeted,   head   tilted   with   curiosity.   ❛   i   had   thought   this   place   FORGOTTEN.   ❜   they   knew   nothing   of   any   remembrance   by   house   vizsla   before   the   purge.   they   had   barely   begun   to   grasp   the   spread   of   their   name.   they   were   simply   glad   to   find   that   they   were   not   ALONE.

.

The pain was overwhelming. Even without an inclination to the Force, the grief filled their bones, pulled the breath from her lungs. The last few days had been...harsh, to say the least. Never had Sabine been more grateful for the friend at their side, for a companion bound by shared creed and skill. A few nights they had traveled, rising by the light of the sun and eating in what privacy and seclusion could be found among the ruins. Guilt filled her every step, shame flooded their senses as she weighed the cost of their actions in the days of the Empire. But that’s what this was about, right? Making peace with the past?

The passage held its own form of healing, like the sting of bacta spray on an open suture. Finally, they were approaching familiar territory, the ruins of their childhood quite literally brought to her feet. Yet, by the light of the suspended star above, a figure stood, dark armor casting shadows across the wasteland. As they drew nearer, the figure rendered itself familiar, a sculpture given life. One memory flashed vivid, a pilgrimage to visit a famed statue with family in tow. The countless times they’d held this visage in sight-- osi’kyr, was this real?

How was this possible? Sure, Sabine didn’t understand much about the Force, but this? This seemed too haamyc to be true. But, who else had this armor? The stature? Shit, how was she supposed to respond? If they were right, then this was none other than--

“Tarre Vizsla? By the Ka’ra...”

Paralyzed with shock, they fell on one knee, head bowed in respect. Hundreds of times she had seen their image, had read their teachings, but this was something else entirely. And, if they were wrong, at least she had her vod to cover her six.

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

there was the slightest urge to ask why that was, if it had to do with the armor that the other wore or something that wore deeper. those pieces of empathy that had been such a marked part of her personality when she had been a child were rising up inside of her, despite how they had tried to bury them. they were out of practice with it, she supposed, the entire reason that they had even given the stranger a bit of help when there had been no real motivation or advantage to doing so, other than some sense of goodness driving them. 

“some people are just like that.” it’s an offer somewhere between, space for the other to talk about it if they so wished to, but not forcing it or asking quite so directly. that was just as much for her own sake as it was for theirs, she thought, but it didn’t matter. after today, what were the chances that they really ran into each other again? it was a large galaxy.

then again, if kestis was any evidence…

trilla shrugged, “it was no problem.” that much was true at least. they took the menu with little real interest. “so where will you go from here?”

Questions wedged themselves between the two, a hesitancy held by both parties. In the checkered silence, Sabine wondered if the other was ever the kind to stand out-- surely the lightsaber at their hip did.

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t have the intel I was looking for, but I knew it was a long shot when I landed, so I’m not too surprised.”

She picked at some stain on the table, a topography of other dining patrons, other conversations struck and bargains paid. Dim lights shone down around the bar, though most of the room was draped in comfortable shadow. Muffled music was spitting from broken speakers a few feet away. There, Sabine sat, painfully aware of everything, every sense filled to the brim.

“Might visit an old friend or two.” Somewhere she wouldn’t stand out. Somewhere Sabine knew they belonged. “And you? Are you staying here, or are you heading off-world?” There was a quick pause, a desire to run. Overruled. The Mandalorian took a sharp breath, reminding themself that there was no war to be found here. No enemy to run from. Yet.

“My ship has room for another passenger, if ever you want to let me repay the debt.”

She only half-expected Trilla to take up the offer, but it was the polite thing to do. Shit, without their help, Sabine might still be stranded a number of klicks away, walking the wrong direction. I wouldn’t be the first time, but every time, they wished it was the last.

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

although upon previous encounters, it had been lando’s instinct to continue to treat her like the young teen that he had initially met them as, he was aware on some level now that sabine was an adult. it was enough to prevent him from dissuading her from engaging in some of the more adult-like activities of the evening. if anything, it just happened to make it more amusing.

“well, about time you recognize me as your friend,” he remarked with a chuckle, throwing his arm around her shoulders with a squeeze. “you could pass on that attitude to some of your friends, you know,” he grinned.

“i can think of a few. the one that will be the most fun will require at least a few more companions and a deck of cards. think you could gather up some people?”

Oya, that reply was so stupid! Obviously, he was her friend! Who else would share this many drinks with the Mandalorian? Who else would know the best drinking games? Lando was no favorite among any of the Ghost Crew, but they did know how to have fun! Some other people had already tried to get her to stop consuming so much alcohol, but that was just because they didn’t want Sabine to enjoy the night. Probably thought they were still a little kid. Hmph. At least he knew better! So, at their instructions, she grabbed another dessert and made for the promenade across from the ever-shifting crowd.

“Oh, no problem! Be right back!” They shouted, already halfway across the gallery, waving back with a clueless guffaw.

chaotickylia​ // Kylia Horne

Laughter fills the air around them. Crackling to life and adding electricity to the air and she finds the colors to be so vibrant. Colors? Since when was she able to see colors and the electricity in the air? She draws a breath, taking the other’s hand, getting up to her feet with a small laugh that leaves her once more. The colors swim around her, wrapping her up and filling her like a bubble ready to burst. She’s curious of this feeling. The way the air tastes as it moves with them. “Let’s do it!” Kylia laughs again, keeping their hands together as fear settles in the back of her mind of being separated from her newly found friend. She wants to stay with her. Doesn’t want to be alone. That fear wraps around her more like a monster in the dark, lurking in the shadows. “I’m Kylia!” She echoes the greeting as she follows behind them, her head spinning with the crows of people they’re passing. “Who are we looking for again?”

.

They ran, unsure of the path before her, but confident that it was the right way. The air was practically teeming with excitement, with life, and she wondered how anyone could be sad in a place as magical as this. Their newfound friend trailed her paces, and the Mandalorian was grateful for the company! 

“Kylia! That name is so pretty. A pretty name for my pretty friend!”

Another round of laughter boiled up from their toes, passed through chest and neck and mouth. It was uncontrollable, the laughter, but she didn’t mind! How could they, when they were surrounded by all these new friends? There was a question hanging in the air, but Sabine couldn’t focus on the answer. Of course she drew a blank; there was a race to finish! Maybe if they went a little faster, they could reach the clouds--

The two found themselves at last at a near-empty balcony, lit only by the patchwork of constellations above. Sabine doubled over, too tired to laugh. This was exhilarating! Was this freedom? 

“Ha! Look at the stars, Kylia. They’re dancing.”

❛  can  i  come  with  you ?  ❜ ( from kallus )

Though the war was over, Sabine still found this base to be crowded on occasion; a hangar so close to the Core Worlds had its uses, after all. It was nice to see so many familiar faces, albeit a little overwhelming. But if they were going to leave for the mission, the time was now.

"You know I won't turn down that offer, Kallus." They passed his comlink back, frequency now in tune with the one at her hip. "Besides, I could always use the conversation. Hyperspace can be so boring, you know."

“It’s got a wonderful attack mechanism.”

They raised a brow, feigning the confidence needed of a Rebellion leader. Ears and eyes were on her, always. Time to put on a show.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we have the wits to outmaneuver whatever you bucketheads throw our way, huh?” Sabine took in a few readings on the console, adjusting the ship’s thrusters for takeoff. “You sure you want to do this, Imp? I don’t want you to start a firefight you can’t finish.”

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   HERE  IS  WHERE  THEY  MAY  FINALLY  BREATHE  IN  AGAIN,  when a culmination of violence frays to a resolution.   messy,  still,  and it’s another finished job for the two.   conflict is their heritage,  but it is a sister to calmness,  and it is built into the architecture of their bones.   the bounty is carbon-frozen,  weapons are secured,  and they lean on the side of their gunship with some tension finally leaving their shoulders.   however,  their breath hitches once as a fresh wound is sanitized and bound.   a cut upon an aging bruise on top of a fading scar.   it’ll take more for them to fall apart at the seams,  even if the galaxy begs for a butchering.

their companions stands a few paces away,  and they’re content in their familiar presence.   another part of them allows hesitance to linger in case of a change in mind,  in case of betrayal;  the rest of them chastises themself for the instinct.   sabine has stuck with them this far   ─   and her gait holds a loneliness akin to their own.   she may occupy a space in their solitude,  if she wishes. 

though at the turn of her heel, ❝   ─   sabine,  wait,  ❞  spoken so suddenly,  as a glove is pried off his right hand.  ❝  keep looking away.  please.  ❞  a long stare follows,  just enough to see her comply and turn her cheek.   the flesh of their left palm presses into the helmet’s rim,  the weight of it keeping some resistance until cool air brushes the lower half of his face.   the swelling of his bandaged nose bridge is touched gingerly before it travels to his cheek,  jaw,  then lips.  there,  it lingers over a cauterizing split and pulls away.   the dried coagulate slips beneath his fingernail.   gravity pulls their helmet down again with gentle guidance.   they’re healing,  and that’s the best they can ask for. 

❝  you can look again.  ❞  spoken softer this time,  when their bare hand is sheathed once more. ❝  thanks.  ❞

    ─   @call-me-spectre-five

(cw light medical injuries)

The job had been arduous, taxing on body and mind. Neither had escaped unscathed, but their friend had taken an especially traumatic blow to the head. At their companion’s bid, she turned away, quick to respect their adherence to privacy, to remaining faceless and nameless. She does not fully understand his interpretation of the Creed, but they don’t discredit it, either. Years ago on their home planet, a lesson was taught to the foundlings: Mandalore is a people, and no one warrior may understand their texts and tales in the same way. This was a view Sabine had adopted for their own, and it held true; as long as this brother-in-arms was not using violence to influence the beliefs of others, they saw no harm in his actions.

“I apologize. I…I should have been more careful.”

The sting of the sutures and bacta spray wasn’t anything compared to the hurt she felt for this travel companion, for their panic and fear. Closing the stitch on her forearm, they were reminded of the guilt. The shame and responsibility she bore for the extinction of their people…gods, it put more weight on her shoulders than any beskar ever could.

At his admission, they turn, the familiar countenance of steel meeting her gaze. She tosses them a smile and a canteen of water. He can drink when he’s ready. She’s glad to be in their presence, to share the transport ship with such fine company. Though much remains unspoken between the two, there is some layer of trust woven into the silence. It makes the questions she wants to ask that much more difficult; they don’t want to drive him away with the pressure of speech. If and when they wanted to talk, Sabine would be there to listen, but it wasn’t a foundation of their friendship.

“Vod, I-” Tongue touched the roof of mouth, and they felt the words heavy as lead. “You don’t have to say yes, okay? You can say no. But, uh,” Shit, they felt so stupid. This goddamned struggle with speech, it always resurfaced when she was anxious. “Can I ask you a few questions about your clan? About your faith?”

Manda, they hoped it wasn’t a step over his line of trust. (She didn’t know how thin it ran.)

❛ who am i to you ? ❜ from bo katan

The answer weighed heavy on her tongue. Once, they could have spoken truthfully, and with ease. But now? This Bo-Katan was different, younger. Unpredictable.

“You’re my friend and ally, Bo. I honor your commitment to Mandalore, and I trust that you’d honor our friendship if ever one of us needed help.”

They only hoped her words would not come back to cut them in time.

❛  do  you  think  i’m  stupid ?  ❜ (From Alton)

“Not necessarily.” She spoke was clarity and precision, every word punctuated with a sharpened edge. They held no love for the man who had smeared her family’s names and painted them as traitors during the birth of the Rebellion.

“Quite the opposite, in fact. Someone who profits on the suffering of others needs to have some level of intelligence to survive as long as you have.”

Their voice remained steady. She would not give him the satisfaction of emotion.

“You’re cruel, and you’re cowardly, but you’re not stupid. If you really want to know what I think of you--” they smiled, though it was empty and devoid of emotion, “--just know, it’s not fear or anger. I pity you, Alton.”

❛ can i come with you ? ❜ from din

Sabine enjoys this friend’s company as much she enjoys spending time with any of the Spectres (as much as she had enjoyed spending time with Tristan and Ezra). To hear him ask for her companionship with such gentility...The question brought a grin to their unmasked face.

“Of course. The more the merrier.”

spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“Karabast, Sabine, I….” Zeb raised their glass, heaved a sigh, and set it down. Seeing Sabine cry was excruciating. They got each other, Zeb and Sabine, but it had always remained unspoken – their true vulnerability hidden behind walls that both knew damn well the other could see right through, but they’d allowed each other the pretense of those safeguards, of… strength? Was that really what it was? But the impulse Zeb felt to lighten the gravity of this moment with some stupid joke or deflection… that wasn’t what Sabine needed. It wasn’t strength, that’s for sure. “I… I’m sorry. I hate hearing you had such a bad year. I wish I’d been there.” Had they been? Zeb had no idea what Sabine had been through in the last year, but it didn’t take a hyperspace scientist to tell it had been shit.

Sabine’s last question – their lapse into Mando’a – it hit Zeb right in the gut, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Sounds like the Empire got both our families.” Zeb’s hand clenched around their glass until it began to shake. They forced themself to relax before they broke any more glassware tonight.   ‘What happened on Lasan, it’s over for me,’   Zeb had said to Kallus once, and he had meant it. Recognizing their own ache in Sabine’s voice, though, it ripped the scab off and left them as raw as ever. So… Zeb said the only thing that had gotten them through it in the first place. It wasn’t like Sabine hadn’t seen them bleed before. “Maybe they can come back, maybe they can’t. Maybe they will. I don’t know. Wish I did. But I do know that right now, we have each other, and that counts for something. Voddy…” Karabast, he had to get this right. “Vod’ika.”

Her sibling’s words were a calm wave, something to grip onto among the onslaught of emotions she was facing. Manda, did they really feel that way? There was a twist in their stomach as her older sibling’s voice contorted in pain. In honesty. Even through the swimming vision and the burn in her throat, she knew what he was trying to say. It was familiar, the way they quietly shared each other’s struggles, the silent language of siblinghood. The grief and assurances were nonverbal more often than not, but just as prominently spoken. This time, though...Zeb surprised her. Their attempt at her first language-- it pushed her out of the chair and into his embrace. Before either could register the movement, Sabine threw their arms around his wide frame, buried her face in their fur.

“Ni k-kar’tayl gar darasuum, ori’vod.” It was familiar, the embrace. It was safe. “I missed you, big brother. I mean, I really missed you.” 

The Mandalorian let go, but held his piercing green gaze. And she gave as much of a grin as she could muster.

“I missed you, and your shit Mando’a.” 

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

that wasn’t quite the reaction that they expected out of them when he clapped her on the back, but it doesn’t stop the short chortle that escaped from his lips in response. sometimes, he forgot that they weren’t quite the kid that he had known them to be so many years ago –– that all of that was so far in the past, really. lando still viewed them that way, even if her current state of intoxication indicated some form of young adulthood. if anything, getting like that in an event like this was the classic sign of her age. he didn’t blame them, he’d never shied away from such a thing.

“oh, i’m sure you like to think that,” lando laughed easily in response. gambling had always been a problem for him, even if he didn’t admit to how serious it had been at some points in his life. he didn’t want it to be a problem, so he didn’t treat it like one.

it didn’t matter what the exact result was, he would have been content with either. “i’m not afraid of a little high. i’m quite content with it, actually, given i’d usually have to pay for this kind of thing.”

A wonderful luminescence filtered through the bubbles in their drink, and she lifted the glass up to the light to see it better. Someone jostled past, and a few delicate drops passed from cocktail glass to skin, blouse, lips. Another time, they could have been angry at the carefully crafted fabric so easily ruined, but not tonight. Worries could wait another rotation.

“H-here’s to a night of freedom, my friend!”

Sabine’s smile felt too warm and too wide, but she didn’t care! How could they, when everything was finally going so well?

“Clari-- Calrissian,” they stumbled, “you seem like someone who knows how to. How to bring a party wherever they go, huh? Tell me, know any good drinking games?”

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

the tension was written all over the stranger. trilla had been arrogant as an inquisitor, considered herself to be extremely talented at everything that they put their mind too –– there had been a degree of truth behind it, too. in the years that they had served, they had been regarded with a high degree. she’d been an extremely deadly tracker because of her ability to read and predict the behavior of other sentient beings, accompanied by her natural precognitive abilities that relied on the force. still, they would have had to be blind to miss the stranger’s sudden tension. even then, she wasn’t sure that she could have been oblivious. the lack of real response only solidified that.

didn’t quite sound like much of a bounty, but trilla’s interest in the matter did not run that deep, so long as it had nothing to do with them. “i can’t imagine a place like this has much information.” except this kind of place was also perfect for hiding, laying low, something that they already happened to know rather well, given it was something to do with the fact of why she was there in the first place. but she’d already given the stranger more honesty than she was owed, and did not feel obligated to share more.

“you can ask.” there was a beat of awkward silence after their words, as though she did not intend on answering sabine. “i prefer to have a bit of privacy. there aren’t usually a lot of talkative people around these parts,” she gestured to the remainder of the cantina. “you stick out in a multitude of ways.”

The response was just about what Sabine expected. A quiet life was hard to come by, especially when the Empire was still in control. Even now that most ex-Imperials and their sympathizers no longer held power, it was still difficult. There had been more than one occasion where they had to fight to escape the prison of recognition. The Mandalorian didn’t concern themself with trying to figure out what ghosts Trilla was running from; she had enough of her own.

But something about their last comment gnawed at Sabine, dug under their skin. Maybe she didn’t mean much by it, but then again, maybe she did. It felt pointed, a jab at how few of her kind were truly left. Each implication hung in the air between them, and it stung a bit more than she was comfortable with.

“Yeah.” They sighed. “I do. I guess it’s always been like that.”

Their mind wandered then, and they thought about the armor, the vibrant paint it carried in sand dunes and ice wastes alike. That metal that was now so precious to others. How they would have no one to pass it on to according to the Creed...

“I guess I never said thanks. For the help with the bike, and the ride.” She bit her lower lip as they passed the menu card to the stranger. They didn’t feel much like eating right now.

@pilotheart​ // Zay Versio

This conversation wasn’t something Zay was going to get used to. It was hard for her to keep control of her emotions as Sabine spoke, trying not to smile because of how happy she was — or because, to be honest, the Mandalorian was funny when drunk. She really wished she had a recording device to keep all that stutter with her. And that dancing. At least they both looked stupid. Zay was just as uptight as her mother, and her not knowing how to dance, or just let go, was a direct side effect of it. Others might tell don’t overthink in that kind of moments, but that wasn’t something Zay was able to do right now. “I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile, already a million questions planned. It could wait, though. Zay decided to keep her mouth shut when Sabine talked about their dancing — she’d rather just nod than comment and hurt them. Because if they were actually conscious of what they just told her, Zay needed to tell them the truth. It was going to hurt. And she didn’t want Sabine to get hurt by anything, ever, especially not by her. “You better be really sure about that because I like you, too,” Zay blurted out, not really believing that these words came out so easily. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” She was sorry about plenty other things, though. But happy Sabine knew at least that now.

Something lept in the pit of the Mandalorian’s gut (and for once it wasn’t the liquor). Manda, Zay liked them back? The confirmation made her want to climb the banisters, to shout from the roof until her throat went sore! They wanted to leap, to-- they didn’t know! Who needed the high when she had her friend’s hand in their own? Had the confirmation that I like you too?!

“Hey.” Sabine sobered as much as she could, just for a moment. They squeezed their friend’s hand once, a pulse they hoped could convey what words could not. “I promise, Zay. I won’t lie to you. I may be. A lot of things--” A soldier. An artist. A killer. A criminal. “--but I won’t lie to you.” 

Then, Sabine did something they never could have imagined they’d have the nerve to do. Sure, it might have been the drink or the drug, but it was also something else entirely, a new electricity brimming from toes to fingertips. In the middle of that crowd, amid the flickering light and the swell of the music, Sabine leaned forward and planted a small kiss on Zay’s cheek, then brushed her hair back so her eyes could shine more clearly in the waning light. They let go of her hand, then stepped back a half pace.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

warscore​ // bo-katan kryze

the figure that stood before bo was familiar, although she had not seen her in many years. she didn’t look much like her mother, that was certain, with dyed hair and brightly-colored armor, where ursa had prefered much simpler things in both regards. it felt as if bo was supposed to know them, as if they had met before, almost, with the other mandalorian’s expression. and they had met, of course, but the confident adult who stood before them had been a child then, not old enough to hold a blaster or fight. but here sabine was, fully grown and with tales of battle and rebellion that preceded her - from satine, from the rebellion, from most who had met them. 

“sabine wren.” she greeted, pulling off her helmet in one fluid motion, a faint smile accompanying the greeting. “it’s been a while.”

.

This wasn’t the Bo that Sabine knew. Something in her countenance was different. She moved with less hesitancy, spoke with a tone lighter and less burdened by war. Their armor was cleaner, paint fresher. This Bo was young. Even younger than her, maybe. 

“Bo-Katan.” They flashed a hesitant grin, unease filling their stomach. What time were they from? What did they remember about Sabine, about Mandalore? Did she know about the Purge? Who else had she found in this new time? “Yeah, it sure has. Su cuy’gar, burc’ya. Glad to see you again.” 

Their words were a little forced, emotions on edge. In another time, they were friends, and Sabine knew where Bo stood on some more important matters of politics and religion. But this older younger Bo, Sabine didn’t know. Did she? Still, they extended an arm in the customary greeting.

“When are you coming from, Bo?”

chaotickylia​ // Kylia Horne

The other’s round of laughter had been contagious and it hadn’t mattered to Kylia what they were laughing about, but she was giggling just as much. Her gaze shifting from the other beside her, a hand haphazardly catching the other’s arm before the pillar could before she started to giggle once again. “Do you think we’d reach the sky from the top?” Her voice is full of happiness and elation. Curiosity and almost a tone of commitment. She was tempted to start climbing to find out. She always wanted to touch the stars. “Blessings from us both!” Another round of laughter with her new-found friend as she collapses to the ground on her knees with the other, gaze shifting to look from the pillar, around them, then finally on the other. The colors were so vibrant, so full of life. So alive. Almost as if they were moving on their own. “I….I think so! We should give them another blessing! Do you think they’re here with us too?” Excitement travels through her and she squeezes the other’s arm a little just then. “We should find them!”

.

Limbs jostled on top of each other as the Mandalorian pushed herself back up onto her feet. It was weird-- they could almost feel every joint as it slid back into place. Exhales were so short. They...they were out of breath! How long had it been since she lost her breath of laughter and not pain? 

“I think we c-could! I think we should!”

A hand extended downwards, and they helped the new friend onto her feet. The two rocked from laughter; it was hard not to! The smiles pooled all around them and into them; the giggling was just a side effect! An infectious feeling from head to toes, warmth all throughout!

“C’mon!” She stumbled forward, pulling the other by her hand. “‘m Sabine, by the way!” They shouted behind them, dodging through the crowd with visions of stars swimming in her eyes.