Warscore​ // Bo-katan Kryze

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

It  was  times  like  this  where  Kallus  thought  about  how  young  Sabine  and  Ezra  had  been  when  the  war  had  started.  They  were  not  much  older  than  children,  yet  to  the  enemy  they  had  been  heinous  rebels.  No  remorse  for  even  an  orphan  like  Ezra,  who  had  learned  to  survive.  He  had  chased  them  like  dogs.  As  they  spoke  to  him  he  sighed.  He  knew  all  about  that.  The  Empire  had  instilled  so  many  beliefs  in  him  and  it  had  taken  two  times  as  much  work  for  him  to  realize  that  the  brainwashing  was  just  that.  He  was  a  cog  in  the  machine,  no  one  special.  There  was  so  much  he  could  actually  do.  It  was  liberating  when  he  had  finally  started  asking  questions,  gaining  an  awareness.  The  cloud  had  been  lifted.  It  sounded  similar  for  his  Mandalorian  friend.  “  You  are  right  of  course…..  Not  everyone  has  the  same  idea  of  peace.  “  his  peace  had  been  sitting  on  his  porch  with  Zeb,  actually  able  to  take  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  A  home  that  was  his.  What  was  his  peace  now?  

It  was  easy  for  him  to  notice  how  Sabine  was  able  to  turn  things  back  to  him  and  how  poorly  he  was  doing.  But  he  didn’t  want  to  think  about  that  now,  Zeb  back  on  Lira  San,  abandoned  by  Kallus  to  go  on  some  self  serving  mission  to  capture  Thrawn,  only  stopping  because  he  was  worried  about  his  friends.  His  jaw  clenched  and  he  looked  away  again.  He  couldn’t  explain  this,  not  to  anyone.  “  Zeb’s  been  fighting  a  long  time.  Longer  than  many  of  us.  I  don’t…..  I  can’t  pull  him  back  in.  He  deserves  peace  more  than  anyone  I  know.  “  his  tone  is  guarded  now  and  when  he  looks  back,  his  eyes  are  colder.  No  one  would  agree  with  him  more  than  the  Ghost  Crew,  but  he  needed  to  make  his  intentions  clear.  Kallus  knew  that  Zeb  could  and  would  make  his  own  choice  if  need  be,  but  he  didn’t  want  it  to  come  to  that  point.  

He  shouldn’t  be  so  tense  with  Sabine.  The  Ghost  Crew  had  changed  his  life,  gave  him  something  to  actually  make  it  worth  while.  What  would  he  be  without  them?  Still,  Garazeb  made  him  question  everything  to  begin  with,  called  him  friend  when  he  deserved  anything  but.  He  would  protect  the  Lasat  with  all  he  had.  “  A  drink  sounds  nice.  “  he  agreed,  eyeing  them.  “  I  don’t  mean  to  be….  Harsh.  I  just  don’t  want  to  pull  him  back  into  this.  Not  unless  he  really  wants  to.  I  just  want  him  to  be  happy,  Sabine.  You  must  understand  that.  “  He  pulled  his  jacket  closer  to  him,  “  Do  you  have  a  cantina  in  mind?  “  

Tension permeated the air as her friend tightened his jaw. Sabine noticed the turning in his eyes, the shift from comfort to pain. They realized in that instant that their advice may have been too critical, could have come off as blaming this man for caring too much. That’s the last thing she wanted to convey. She knew how much Kallus meant to Zeb. How much they both meant to each other.

“Kallus, I think I...might not have explained myself well.” They took a breath, chose their words with more caution this time, careful not to seem judgmental. “I’m not blaming you, my friend,” they said with hesitancy as they reached down to wipe a smudge of dirt off the pigment of her armor. It needed a repainting soon, they noted.

“I understand how much you care for Zeb. For-- Well, for all of us.” They held his gaze, hoping to show him how much she cared too. “I just worry, is all. Well, I. And, I know-- I know we’ve been through...similar experiences.” They gritted their teeth through a smile and nodded. “I really don’t blame you one bit, Kallus. I just want you to be careful. For Zeb.” For all of us. They wiped the corner of their eye quickly, ignoring the moisture that had formed there. They’d both been through so much. This war had cost them both so much.

“C’mon, the Twisted Mynock Cantina is just a couple of klicks from here. Besides, I’ve gotta return this speeder bike to some old smuggler by sundown.”

As the two walked to where their bikes were parked, Sabine reached up, slowly, and placed their hand on Kallus’s shoulder. They had more in common than either of them cared to admit.

“I could really use that drink right about now.” 

❛  what  are  you  talking  about ?  ❜ / from trilla

“I’m saying that there’s no way you can win a game of Sabacc against that Ithorian over there. I mean, I’ve never seen them lose a match. You beat ‘em, and I owe you a bottle of real Mon Cala champagne.”

They offered a cheeky smile, readying the credits she was confident would be owed.

@cravked

@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.”

“Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer.“

Fingers itched to grasp the vibroblade at her waist, but paused. Of all of their interactions, this was the closest Sabine had come to an actual threat of violence. To hatred-- pure and unadulterated.

“Trust, Armitage, that when you join the silence of my ancestors, no one will mourn you, let alone notice your departure. Despite all your efforts to be remembered, no one will feel joy or pain or heartbreak, because no one will have cared enough about your life to waste the energy.”

Anger read cleanly across their face, cool and unwavering. Motionless.

“At least I have a family, even if they are ghosts. Can you really say the same?”

@generally-scheming

Forget the explosion – look at the colour!

l  closed starter  l  @inspiringgreatness​

Sabine’s fingers trembled with the ship’s communication system, struggling to find the right frequency for their old friend. The last thing she wanted to do was bother such an important and busy figure with something as trivial as this, but they didn’t know who else to turn to. Finally, the hum of static softened into a dull purr, and she sat down with a sigh. The light on the holo camera blinked blue to let them know it had begun recording.

“H-hey. Hey, Ahsoka. It’s Sabine.”

Idiot. As if she couldn’t already tell. 

“Look, I really don’t want to bother you, and you don’t have to answer this message. But, I--” they sighed, hugging her knees to their chest.

“I just didn’t really know who else to talk to, I guess? I mean, I just don’t feel ready to talk to Hera or Kanan, or...well, anyone, about it.” 

(Or about anything, really.)

“ Look, I’ve just been thinking about Ezra a lot lately, and, I don’t know, I thought maybe you had too, and, maybe we could talk about it together? O-or not. That’s okay, too.”

Sabine paused, breath catching in her throat and stomach swelling with regret. Ahsoka didn’t need to be concerned with this. She was a Jedi once, and she had probably dealt with scenarios worse than this in the Clone Wars. What was Sabine even doing?

“On second thought, I’m sorry. I-I don’t mean to. To, uh. To take up your time.  you’re probably really busy. I really hope you’re doing well. Stay safe.”

Sabine hastily reached forward and switched the channel off then stifled the racking sob clawing its way up her throat. 

spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrellios

“Karabast, Sabine – you deserve a drink, not ten! Not unless you also want to deserve the rancor of a hangover you’re gonna have tomorrow morning. What’s this about a shit year? Slow down, I– last week was Endor for me, I– oh, kriff.” Were those tears? Panic set Zeb’s fur on end. He had seen Sabine furious, had seen her blast entire Imperial bases to shrapnel with glee, but Sabine crying? That was scary. Zeb pulled them into a hug and patted their shoulder delicately. “There, now, it’s… you’re okay, you’re fine, now, okay, just, c’mon. Alright? You can… it’s fine, have another drink, I, we’ll just, we’ll have our waters first, okay? Just take it easy, now.”

Zeb guided her away towards a chair by the window. At least here they could get a little air. Gently, they pressed a glass of water into Sabine’s hand, their eyes wide with concern. Zeb flinched at her last question, made all the more painful by the way her face reflected the same deep concern back at him. “Kriff, what are you talking about, Sabine, I– you must really be in the sauce. Nothing happened, I–” Well. Zeb might have believed that an hour ago, but not anymore. “I don’t know. Forget about Ka– …about me. You’ve got enough on your mind as it is. Talk to me.”

They threw her arms around the Lasat, and she saw the room pass by under her feet but couldn’t feel it, not really. Something cold closed around their fingers and they sat, immediately slumping forward onto the table. She looked up into her friend’s eyes and pouted, memories of family flashing by too slowly, a steady drip of molasses in the mind. A sigh pushed itself out of their lips, and they sat up, chin resting on cupped hands.

“Zeb, this year has been so...fuck. I just. ‘M tired, Zeb.” They racked through the timeline in their brain, but it felt absent and muddled. “Af-ter Kanan d-” their voice cracked, and she took a sip of the water in her hand. It wasn’t real anymore. “And now he’s back. And Ezra, too. But I keep...I keep thinking, Zeb!” The knot in her chest tightened, and those familiar tears crossed her eyes, cheeks, lips. They hated it, the crying. They hated it! “And I’m glad, Zeb, I am,” though it didn’t sound like it, “but where’s my other family? Ner aliit!” Their native tongue slipped out as she slouched forward again. What was she doing? “Ner buire, ner vod’ika.” They finally spit out the question that had been lingering on their mind for days now. “If one family can come back, why can’t the other?”

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.)

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?”

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

death was a mercy. that was the only reason that trilla was not bothered by the ancient lightsabers that were on display alongside the mandalorian armor, and other artifacts. anger radiated off of the person beside her, impossible to miss. it was the kind of thing that had been contagious at one point, but they did not struggle to keep their cool now. their gaze looked her up and down for a moment, pulling in a deep breath through their nose.

“thousands of years ago, the mandalorians colonized and the jedi slaughtered a part of their people. of course they want to put it on display now, to show how far they’ve come in spite of that.” trilla had never hd a problem with pointing out the fault of the jedi, that certainly wasn’t going to change now, even as they found theirself drifting closer and closer to the light. she gave a shrug of her shoulders at the apology. “your anger doesn’t bother me.”

.

The history of war, Sabine knew well. No winners came from war, only pain and death. War was a game of loss, for all parties involved. The trick was figuring out how to deal with it. A trick they still didn’t know how to pull off. Her people had done terrible things, she had done terrible things, but that didn’t stop the resentment from swelling in their gut.

“It’s hard to ignore the brutality of it all. My people, we... There’s pieces of Mandalorian history that I’m not proud of, pieces I would never condone, of course. But to invite us here only to take away our weapons, our sacred armor, and then parade a claim of peace? It’s...” They needed to change the subject, needed distraction from the fire coursing through her body. “But, anyways. You, uh. You look nice, Trilla.”