Cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

📜 – kanan

Sabine: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Kanan: Really? Name one law Sabine: Don't kill people? Kanan: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

(bonus!)

Sabine: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Kanan: You're like 15 years old Sabine: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!

@sacreficied 

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.

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

Jango raised a brow at their name “Clan Wren? Any relation to Ursa?” He asked curiously. He hadn’t had many dealings with Clan Wren, but he knew of them. He could tell she was entirely sure who he was. He couldn’t deny that it amused him a little.

“Jango Fett. And I’d prefer talking over a fight anyway, so I have time.” He chuckled, reaching out and gripping Sabine’s hand in greeting.

“I assume you’re wanting to know how I ended up with the saber?” He asked, taking another sip of his drink.

_

The conversation was one surprise after another. Just when Sabine thought they had a grip on the history, the shared experience of the Mando’ade...an anomaly would hurl towards her from out of left field. Against their will, her calm demeanor was splintered with all of this new information.

“Yes, she’s my buir. You know her?”

Immediately, Sabine wanted to jump to defense. She’d not been a fanatic of Death Watch (as their mother had once been)-- wasn’t a supporter of the needless violence and discord-- but from what she’d heard, this man had done a fine job in his tirade against them. It was with caution that they proceeded, steeling their gaze as she took the drink the bartender placed before her.

“Jango. Pleasure. Please, I’d love to hear how you came by such a... symbolic weapon of our people.”

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.

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.

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

If nothing else, Hux had to credit the photographer for so clearly capturing a moment he did not remember himself. The walk from the gala to Alton’s yacht was extremely fuzzy, but he’d hoped that — even inebriated — he’d had the decorum to keep his kriffing hands to himself until they were out of sight. Yet that was unmistakably Armitage Hux in the image, pulling a man into a yacht by his necktie. And that man was unmistakably Alton Kastle with his hand on Hux’s ass.

Hux knew better than to reach for the datapad. That didn’t stop his fingers from twitching when they stowed it out of sight.   (She’d won this round.)   No one who saw that image would have any doubt of what happened on Alton’s yacht afterwards. He narrowed his eyes. Their gown wasn’t so sheer that he could count out hidden armor or weapons. With a gaze every bit as sharp as the dagger up his sleeve, his eyes traced the skin above their neckline for vulnerable arteries. But that was only fantasy — he was not so keen to die today that he would take on a Mandalorian in hand-to-hand combat without backup. Especially not after he’d read Sabine Wren’s file.

“Yet you brought your concerns to me first. How courteous.”  Hux knew as well as she did — she was ex-Imperial — that countless cutthroat officers would love to get their hands on any ammunition that could be used against him. Not to mention that connecting a New Republic reporter to a man who’d tortured Padme Amidala would kill Alton’s career.  “What is it you want from me that you could not get from them?”

_

His eyes turned upon the image, and they smirked at his shift in tone. Like a glacier breaking into the ocean, he grew ever colder with the passing seconds. No doubt he wanted to react with some measure of calculated anger or violence, but he kept his composure all the same. The Mandalorian had to admit, given the brevity of the situation, that it was almost impressive.

“Hey, I’m a nice person, Hux. You ought to know this by now.”

They sipped the wine he’d ordered, looking at him over the rim of the glass the whole time. She took a breath before responding, took the conversation on their own time.

“I want you to owe me a favor.” They exaggerated the words, left them with weight unseen. “I won’t come calling today, or tomorrow, but I will come calling. And when I do, I just want to know that you’re willing to help. Nothing difficult, nothing incriminating. Just good old-fashioned reciprocity, one friend to another.”

Sabine folded their hands together in the space between them, leaning forward and never wavering from his steely gaze.

“What do you say, general?”

@lcstpadawan​ // Cal Kestis

nothing substitutes good working parts at the end of the day, but there’s usually enough of that to be found in scraps if you know where to look. and cal did it for years, threw himself into it for so long he almost forgot who he was meant to be. between sabine and bd1, it should be easy enough to figure out a way to communicate with someone in the new republic to come and pick them up, he just needs to be patient, pick out the workable equipment from this mess.

“well then we should be fine.” he says with a smile as they get to work. he doesn’t know sabine but so far she’s been more than helpful, comfortable company to have on a mission - something he’s not necessarily used to, but he’s more than happy for it. he picks apart enough to get some workable equipment, melding some of it together himself and passing others over to sabine when he’s not sure where they could come in handy, chipping away until -

“huh? what’d you find?” he asks, pushing himself up to head over to her. there’s plenty to find here if you actually look for it so he’s not all that surprised. “something that’s gonna help us get home?”

.

Paint was more than familiar to Sabine, something that ran in their family’s history. It could animate narratives and express what words never could, capturing a single moment in time for as long as the paint stood dry. It was functional, a protective layer for any precious metal hidden beneath its touch. The Mandalorian prized themself in recognizing hues and guessing the origin of art supplies just by their appearance, their texture. The markings on this scrap heap, however, were nothing if not foreign to her.

“I’m not sure.” She studied the metal, the scratches on what seemed to once be the hull of a small transport, perhaps a bomber? Or stealth fighter? Whatever it was, it was confusing, an insignia hastily scrawled then abandoned.

"This transport...I’ve never seen any markings like this before. I-I don’t know where they’re from,” she mumbled, searching for any remains of the ship among the wreckage. Not twenty yards away, there it sat, torn to pieces and half-buried. How had the two missed that? Sabine hastily captured images on their datapad, then turned to her new acquaintance. 

“Cal, d’you think this subspace transceiver is salvageable?”

@cravked​ // trilla suduri

the sudden quiet that came from her temporary companion was easy to notice, but trilla doesn’t immediately bother to break it with questioning what had suddenly changed her mood. she appreciated the quiet, found it to be more comfortable, even if she did not entirely hate having another person beside her like she might have claimed to. the little witty retort still came as expected after a bit, but something about her demeanor had shifted. perhaps the little mandalorian was more observant about her than the former inquisitor had previously given her credit for. oh well.

“just over an hour, if you walk quickly.” trilla clarified with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “but i’ve got my own speeder about that’s about ten minutes west that’ll get us there much faster.” she hadn’t walked out here on her own, after all, but made sure to keep her own vehicle out of sight, in case the other had been a bit more slippery and would have tried for something like stealing hers.

not waiting for her to give much of a response, trilla began to head east toward her speeder, not saying another word about it. it was not until she reached the vehicle that she spoke again, though she doesn’t look at her companion.

“so what was it that shut you up?”

The crackling of their footsteps was all that filled the silence for a few moments, and Sabine paused in contemplation. She didn’t want to tell the truth, to admit what it was that had changed their attitude. Even though the stranger had been kind this far, she still didn’t know much about what had brought them out here.

“You just, uh, reminded me of my little brother. For a minute there.” They stumbled over their words as their breath became a little more hollow in realization. It was a loaded statement, and not at all entirely untrue. The brother she had grown up with, Tristan, had had a similar sense of humor as Trilla, the same guarded expressions. 

Something caught in her throat, and they had to look away before Trilla could notice the stiffness in her breath. It still hurt, to think about the family she had lost. Not just a mother and father, but two younger brothers for whom she still felt responsible. It was a pain they knew would never entirely fade.

“What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

Investigation at Hosk

Location: Kalarba, the ruins of Hosk Station

From orbit, the planet seemed scarred. Every plants’ branches had snapped, and every leaf was coated in a film of ash. Rolling pits littered the surface where life had once teemed in abundance. Grey mist hung in the air, a bitter mixture of smoke and ash from the searing flames of debris. Some fires, still lit, pulsed hungrily around them like a gundark in desperate search of its prey. 

Iden had sent Sabine a brief manifesto detailing everything the Rebellion knew about the crash-- which was, unfortunately, not much. What had piqued their interest, however, was the apparent villain behind this new act of terrorism. Supposedly, those who had witnessed the damage firsthand seemed to have reason to suspect Imperials-- or, at least, their technologies. The simple thought of this was enough to make Sabine’s stomach churn in unease. If it was true, if that broken system of oppression had returned to take the lives of so many people...well, it wouldn’t help them sleep at night.

When she had read the name written on Iden’s message and quickly realized it was unfamiliar to her, the mission seemed suddenly less solemn.They liked to stay relatively connected within the social network of the Rebellion (though it was always possible to miss a few people along the way). Sabine knew next to nothing about this person-- and that’s exactly what compelled her to greet his arrival with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Cal Kestis, I assume? Nice to meet you. The name’s Sabine Wren.”

@lcstpadawan​ // cal kestis

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

Hera  had  been  able  to  rely  on  Sabine  when  their  life  had  been,  even  if  they  didn’t  want  to  admit  it,  in  ruins.  They  were  an  amazing  role  model  for  Jacen,  someone  he  could  both  rely  on  for  guidance  and  adore  due  to  their  fun  and  loving  nature.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  rely  any  of  that  to  the  Mandalorian,  even  after  years  of  being  together.  Affection  hadn’t  come  naturally  to  her.  Even  though  she  wished  it  did  sometimes.  “  I  don’t  know.  He’s  got  Ezra’s  trouble  making  tendencies.  “  she  smiled  affectionately,  going  to  stand  next  to  her,  watching  the  emotions  crossing  her  face  as  she  saw  the  designs  that  had  accumulated  since  her  last  visit.  “  He  wants  to  be  just  like  you.  “  they  informed,  her  arm  wrapping  around  their  shoulders,  chuckling.  “  If  he  asks  use  to  borrow  your  jetpack,  say  no.  “  

They  fixed  a  pointed  glare  towards  Sabine,  though  there  was  no  actual  anger  in  it.  It  had  been  one  of  her  hopes,  for  their  son  to  grow  up  with  values  of  all  of  their  family.  She  saw  small  pieces  them  all  in  him.  “  He’s  been  talking  with  Luke  Skywalker,  trying  to  control  some  of  his  abilities.  “  If  only  Ezra  had  been  there  to  teach  him.  He  would  be  remarkable  at  it,  just  like  Kanan  was  once  he  got  his  head  into  it.  She  was  against  sending  him  to  the  Jedi  Temple,  and  thankfully  Luke  had  respected  their  choice.  Family  mattered  much  more  than  becoming  a  fighting  for  the  New  Republic.  

.

Sabine ran their fingers across the art, old and new, and gave the faintest smile. Hearing her parent talk about Ezra...it brought something of ache to the forefront of their chest, and she knew Hera shared the sentiment. With it, though, was joy (and, even still, a little hope).

“Shit, if he wants to be like me and Ezra, no wonder you’ve got your hands full. But, uh, I don’t know about the jet-pack. I’m sure I was much more reckless at his age.” 

They took a seat at the well-worn Dejarik table and rubbed her hand across their neck, taking a moment to reflect on the other’s musings. 

“Can’t say I know much more about the Jedi than whatever Kanan and Ezra were up to during our time as a crew, but I trust your judgement. I don’t know anything about Skywalker other than the legends, but I know Kanan. If you’re right about Jacen taking after Ezra, he’ll turn out alright.” 

She met the tired eyes of her buir and held their gaze for a moment. They didn’t know how to convey the emotions that were conflicting inside her. Sadness mingled with nostalgia and guilt. It was almost familiar, this cocktail of feelings. Instead, they decided to ask about the unusual silence.

“Speaking of trouble-makers, where’s Chopper? I miss that old war criminal.”