❛ Can I Come With You ? ❜ From Din

sacreficied​ // Kanan Jarrus

so much had happened over the course of their lives together as ghost crew that had been unpredictable, so many things to be grateful for –– and yet, nothing struck him quite the same as listening the others speak about the time that he was dead. kanan imagined that the other jedi he had spoken to must have felt in a similar way, the apprehension tightly wound with gratitude. he would not look at a gift like this with lack of appreciation, though there were things about it that he questioned.

“it’s easy to get caught up in the things that we’ve lost. you weren’t around for it, but you know that i did for years.” the circumstances had been different, but after sixty-six, he’d never stopped to appreciate that he was alive, that he still had his wits about him. it had taken time to appreciate hera, too. “i’m… i’m doing well. seeing the order restored has given me hope that i didn’t know i needed. for ezra, and for jacen. i know that there will be some who don’t approve or understand of… all of this,” he gestured loosely with his hand at nothing in particular, meaning ghost crew as a whole. “but even with the order’s stance on attachment, i think it makes me a better jedi.”

.

Silence weighed between them as Sabine listened to their friend’s admittance of his past actions. He’d never spent much time talking about what had happened before he found Hera, and she didn’t blame him. She didn’t respond to his words, but nodded, just taking time to listen. Years of petty arguments and bickering made it easy to forget how alike the two could be. 

“You know I don’t know much about the Jedi beyond what you and Ezra have shared with me--” she started, combing through words and phrases with caution. “But, it’s almost funny, right? I mean, the core beliefs of the mando’ade are all about family and connection. And the Jedi are supposed to distance themselves from that kind of emotion, right?”

They hesitated, offering a small, sad smile (though she knew he couldn’t see it). They bumped her boot against his, trying to keep the energy from sinking.

“It may be kinda unorthodox, but I think it works. I think we all make each other better...And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Rebuilding the Jedi and committing to the people you care about. Who care about you. Against our better judgement,” she teased. 

Holonet Interview

     “What is your full name (middle name included)? Does it have meaning from your home planet?”

“Sabine Wren is my given name. Sabine is an ancient family name, tracing back to some great-great-grand-something ancestor that helped defend their clan from a mythosaur attack, as the legends go. And Wren because it’s my clan’s surname.” They paused, considering. “I don’t have a middle name. In my clan, we grow into those, kind of like nicknames. I-- I. Well, I didn’t get to that point with my family.”

     “Have you committed any crimes? How many, and what were the reasons behind some?”

“Ha!” They chuckled  from beneath the painted visor. “Have I committed any crimes? Believe it or not, I was in one of the first Rebel cells to fight back against the Empire. Phoenix Squadron caused any kind of trouble you can imagine. Larceny, arson, smuggling, and my personal favorite: destruction of Imperial property. It’s really an art form, if you ask me.”

     “Describe your hands (dirt under the nails, weather-worn, etc.).”

“Well, they’re just about what you’d expect from a Mandalorian. And a mechanic, at that.” She pulled off the leather gloves coated in a film of dust and oil. “See here? That scar’s from a probe droid that exploded a little too close for my comfort. Actually, I think there might still be a bit of shrapnel in there somewhere. But, yeah, cracked and scarred. Still good to repair a droid or fire a blaster, though.”

     “Would you run or fight in a battle? What are the causes?”

“Oh, fight, of course. My people aren’t well-known for running, are we? I try not to take life when I don’t have to, but if it’s between that and the slavery and oppression of a corrupt bureaucracy like the Empire? Fight, no question.”

     “What did your childhood home look like? Have you gone back as an adult?”

“Depends on which one you mean. I was raised on both Mandalore and Krownest, though I’ve only visited one in adulthood. After the Empire slaughtered my people...well, needless to say, I haven’t ventured back to Mandalore. And it’s been years since I’ve last seen the ice plains of Krownest. I’m not particularly eager to visit either any time soon.”

She shook their helm wearily, feeling uneasy about this entire interaction. 

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.

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​ 

❛  i wish it wasn’t true .  ❜ –– from trilla

“Yeah, um.” They gently kicked up some of the dirt that coated the ground, tracing a pattern of anxiety into the earth. “Me too. Maybe in a better galaxy somewhere, this wouldn’t have happened, but, uh. But we’ve gotta play with the cards we’re dealt, huh?” They asked, albeit halfheartedly. Still, if she had to pick someone to go through this with, Trilla wasn’t a bad choice.

@cravked 

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Kallus  knew,  just  as  much  as  the  rest  of  them,  how  easy  it  was  to  be  alone.  Solitary  had  been  his  comfort.  As  an  ISB  agent  they  were  conditioned  to  be  on  the  outside.  They  weren’t  in  the  same  chain  of  command  as  the  rest  of  the  Imperial  Navy.  They  were  internal  affairs,  never  trusted.  His  career  had  been  based  in  solitude.  He  hadn’t  realized  until  he  joined  the  Rebellion  that  maybe  he  did  prefer  the  company  of  others.  Others  like  the  Spectres,  like  Zeb  and  Hera  and  Sabine.  “  You  don’t  need  to  explain  yourself.  “  he  countered,  finally  relaxing  his  stance,  hands  moving  into  the  pockets  of  his  jacket.  “  But  do  not  feel  the  need  to  go  through  life  without  us.  We  are  here  for  you.  “  

His  eyes  studied  their  face,  watching  the  way  their  stance  relaxed  slowly.  Alexsandr  didn’t  want  Sabine  to  feel  the  need  to  assure  him  that  everything  was  okay,  but  he  understood  the  reasons  why.  It  was  easy  to  forget  that  they  had  been  at  the  Imperial  Academy.  It  was  a  lesson  ingrained  from  the  very  beginning,  to  not  let  emotions  cloud  ones  judgement.  It  was  something  he  had  taken  to  heart.  As  a  Mandalorian,  he  assumed  it  was  second  nature  to  them.  “  I  am  glad  then.  “  he  didn’t  believe  them,  but  he  also  wouldn’t  argue  now.  Not  when  he  had  just  come  back.  

“  We’ve  been  integrating  Lira  San  with  the  New  Republic.  Very  slowly.  Understandably,  many  are  apprehensive.  Some  survivors  from  Lasan  believe  that  another  attack  in  imminent.  “  he  spoke  mechanically,  not  allowing  his  own  guilt  from  the  event  to  break  through.  Sabine  knew  enough  about  his  past.  “  Garazeb  is  well,  if  that’s  what  you  are  wondering.  Though  he  misses  his  family.  “  he  met  their  eyes  again,  raising  his  brows.  “  If  it  can  be  believed,  we  have  found  as  close  to  a  retirement  as  possible  for  soldiers.  “  At  least  they  had,  before  Ezra  and  their  guilt.  Now  his  mission  for  Thrawn.  “  I  haven’t  heard  any  updates  on  you  as  of  late.  What  have  you  been  doing  ??  “  

Sabine examined Kallus’s face while he spoke, studying how he measured his words and weighed his expressions before speaking to them. There was more he wanted to say, she was sure, but they weren’t about to pry. His words echoed in their ears. We are here for you. 

Dank farrik, Sabine had been stupid. With their wandering about the galaxy with no contact, it was not surprising that Zeb had sent Kallus to check on her. The rest of the Ghost crew, they must be worried. That same feeling of shame boiled in the pit of their stomach, but they smiled to Kallus, nodding as he spoke about her old friend and his people. She knew how difficult it must be for Kallus to be on Lira San, how guilty he must feel. Still, they knew how hard he was trying-- and how much it meant to Zeb that he was there.

“I am...glad to hear you and Zeb are doing well.” She paused, wondering if they should voice their next thought. “You...deserve that, you know. A peaceful life away from the politics and danger of it all. You both do.”

When nothing was said to fill the silence between them, Sabine continued, finally answering the question she had been trying to avoid.

“I guess you haven’t heard from me because I haven’t really been in the action. I’m still with the Rebellion, just not in the heart of the fight. At least, not right now. I’ve been...” They hesitated, knowing that whatever she said would be repeated to her old friend. “I mean, you know how slow it is, trying to chase dead leads on information for the Rebellion. It’s an unreliable business. But, I’m glad you’re settled down now. Your days of action over, right?”

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.

❝ you got some talent , kiddo ! ❞ ( iden )

@versios

“Well, I’m glad someone sees it that way,” Sabine smirked, looking at their finished painting with pride. The hull of the ship gleamed with fresh colors and patterns, none too stealthy, but perfectly her own.“Because believe it or not, the Empire wasn’t too thrilled with my creativity one upon a time. What I called a masterpiece, they called vandalism.” She upturned her lips into a quick grin full of mischief and delight. “But hey, what can I say? Art is subjective.”

@xspectre-1​ // Kanan Jarrus

closed starter // @call-me-spectre-five​ // sabine wren

finding himself on lothal wasn’t the surprise, flashes of memories would have brought him there regardless. the surprise was rooted in something far more confusing. things were different from what kanan last remembered, he couldn’t place it but– well, he was certainly lost here. 

not that it was much of a concern to the blind knight. his focus was on hera– knowing she had been captured, knowing she had been captured and that he wasn’t on that lothal– the distress associated was perhaps somewhat overwhelming. 

but with, admittedly directionless, wandering, he had been surprised to sense– sabine??

it was enough to pull his attention, and enough of a feeling to drag the jedi aimlessly in a new direction, further from the city but perhaps closer to an answer. 

as he neared, he could feel she had noticed him– not that the force was needed for as much, their relationship based in more than that– “sabine?” he questioned, a hand reaching to feel at her head as if it wasn’t the young mandalorian he was acutely familiar with, “what’s– what’s happening?”

The rotations had been unforgiving of late. Lothal’s single sun burned bright, with little precipitation to relieve the plains near Capital City. It had been a short stay, but long enough for silent reflection. Ezra’s tower had been restored after Imperial presence was wiped out, and the Mandalorian often found themself returning for a few days at a time, watching over the small planet from above. It was secluded, out of the way, and by all means, a perfect resting spot for someone who wanted to be alone. But today, as a dark cloud rolled over the city, Sabine spotted something-- someone-- walking the field toward her makeshift encampment. 

Could that be--?

The turbolift couldn’t take her to ground level fast enough, but when it did, she could do little but gasp in surprise. Removing their helmet in a hurry, Sabine met his hand with her own, then raised it a few inches to their cheek, where tears were starting to blossom in her eyes.

“Kanan?”

It had been years, but here he was, the man who had for so long acted like a buir to them. Here he was, back where it had all changed, but this time, she had found him.

“I-it’s me, Sabine.” They longed to reassure him that everything was okay, that he was okay, but neither would have believed it. She wanted to wrap their arms around him in an embrace, to never let go, but stopped in an attempt to avoid overwhelming the already flummoxed man. “I’m here, Kanan. You’re on Lothal. What do you remember?” 

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

Where  are  they  ??  Hera’s  heart  is  racing,  the  adrenaline  pumping  through  their  veins.  It’s  the  only  way  she’s  ignoring  the  pain  all  over  her  body,  the  fresh  burns  that  had  been  from  the  explosions  just  minutes  after  midnight.  Lekku  damaged,  tattoos  previously  there  now  scattered  with  marred  skin.  Had  it  been  minutes  ??  she  can’t  tell,  can’t  think  straight.  A  flash  of  purple  fabric  has  them  looking  closer,  voice  horse,  “  Sabine  ?!  “  Were  the  others  with  them?  

.

The voice rang clear and familiar even through the erupted chaos around them. They’d heard that voice in firefights and stealth operations alike, from late night confessions to hurried commands of battle. It sent a renewed wave of strength through her bones, pushed her forward, past the bodies and rubble. 

“Buir! Thank fuck you’re alive!” A pause, measuring the damage done to Hera’s lekku, no doubt a result of the flames. “Have you seen anyone else?” The question was vague, but she knew they’d understand. Both needed to know if their family was alive.