Zeb.01 - Blog Posts

spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“Right. Better patch up anybody who made it through this kriffing mess.”  Zeb nodded at Sabine’s suggestion. Together they tracked down a cluster of survivors who’d gathered on the fringes of the area that had been scorched nauseatingly clean. There were a few wounded who could be helped by the first aid supplies they’d had on board, but Zeb saw immediately that Lothal was going to need a lot more than they had with them: more medical supplies, more food, more more. 

Though they could tell their reassurance had made some difference, and hells knew Sabine could keep it together when they had to, Zeb sensed the situation was still weighing on them as they worked. He muttered something vague about searching for other survivors to the huddled group around him and stepped aside to speak with her.  “Uh, we should probably round up anybody else who hasn’t made it over here, but….”  They faltered. He’d had more than a few anguished questions about who are these vong and why did they do this to us, questions he had no answers for.  “Karabast. People keep asking me what the hells happened, and who’s gonna protect them now if they come back. … I don’t know what to tell them. How, uh, how you holding up?”

_

The two worked in tandem, a steady silence of unease and anxiety. She could practically feel it in the air around them, in the breaths of each being that now adopted the same pain Zeb and Sabine had known all too well: the pain of losing a home. At least bandaging burns gave her hands something to do other than tremble. 

“Yeah, we should, er...” When her sibling’s demeanor dropped, so did the Mandalorian’s. “Fuck, Zeb, that’s--” Their words wavered. What was there to say? Of course these people were right to be scared- to want answers- but it’s not like she or Zeb knew any more than they did. 

“I’m living, y’know? I’m alive, and I’ve got my family,” (some of them) “which is more than most of these folks can say right now. You?”

spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

Smouldering ruins had gotten to be too familiar a sight to Zeb these days.   (Hapes. Invisec. Sernpidal. Lasan. Always Lasan.)   He’d numbed himself to this kind of devastation years ago—nothing could ever compare to seeing your homeworld reduced to a lifeless, burned-out shell. But Lothal had been as good as home, too, for a time. Seeing it like this again—worse even than what the Empire had inflicted on it—made him that much more grateful that his family had escaped the devastation this time.

“Yeah,”  they agreed, placing a steadying hand on Sabine’s shoulder.  “Good thing they’ve got us, right?”  Zeb didn’t let too much levity into their voice—wouldn’t be right—just enough to let her know that things could get to be okay again, even if they weren’t now.  “Same place as always. With the survivors. Always seem to be a few hard-headed nerf-herders who are just too damn stubborn to die.”   (Like us.)   He squeezed their shoulder gently.  “So, let’s find ‘em. Get ‘em some shelter, some of these rations… then we’ll see about this comms business.”

_

Sabine felt the familiar weight of her ori’vod’s hand on their shoulder, the words of assurance giving her something steady to focus on. The thought of how many friends they’d lost the last few years...it made her stomach churn. Looking in their green eye, Sabine knew Zeb could feel it, too. The sickness of losing a planet, of losing a people...gods, the losses never seemed to stop. But, they had to try, right? That’s what it was all about, what their rebel family had convinced the young Mandalorian of in times like this.

“Yeah, you’re, uh. You’re right, Zeb. Lothal has always pulled through. This time isn’t any different.”

But it was-- the last few weeks, Sabine couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. First Hapes, now this...and similar attacks across the galaxy, if word-of-mouth could be trusted. It was terrifying, even to someone who was raised in the creed of war.

“We, uh. Should we start with stabilizing the injured?”

The sight of the planet ran cold in her blood. For a moment, as the ship dropped from hyperspace, all they could see was Mandalore. The ash, the scars of a scorched planet. Streets overrun with fire, buildings reduced to ash. It was all too familiar. Guilt surged in their blood like it had done then, her breath caught in panic and fear. Without thinking, Sabine clutched onto Zeb, their fur thick underneath her touch. 

“It’s so much worse than I thought.”

If the Mandalorian had held any doubt that Lothal needed their help, it was gone now. There was a half-glance shared, and a moment of understanding passed between the two. There was work to be done, and no time to hesitate.

“Where do we even begin?”

@spectreoflasan​