For   @beskarbuir and @finitefm​  // Din Djarin And Tarre Vizsla

galaxywon​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Sabine  had  been  Imperial,  even  though  their  time  had  ended  much  before  his  own.  They  knew  what  it  felt  like  to  be  forced  to  adhere  to  something  that  took    away  any  case  of  individuality.  But  she  didn’t  know  what  it  felt  like  to  believe  it  with  your  whole  being.  He  would  have  died  for  The  Empire,  almost  had  on  multiple  occasions.  He  thought  his  life  was  worth  something  with  them,  didn’t  know  true  value  until  he  had  been  challenged  to  question  things.  Being  an  Imperial  had  been  his  entire  life.  It  was  still  his  deepest  shame.  He  could  tell  by  the  way  they  analyzed  the  images  that  they  understood  what  it  meant.  “  I  fear  if  I  don’t  do  it  soon,  I  never  will.  “  he  admitted,  turning  away  from  them  to  try  to  hide  some  of  the  emotions  passing  through  his  face.  

“  I  can  sit  with  you  while  you  draw  if  you’d  like.  “  It  was  more  for  him  than  it  was  for  Sabine,  of  course.  He  wasn’t  sure  he  could  sit  around  and  wait  for  her  to  be  done.  “  I  have  some  mission  reports  I  could  fill  out.  “  He  knew  without  trying  that  he  wouldn’t  get  a  thing  done  while  he  was  waiting  for  them,  but  he  could  pretend.  “  Just…..  Don’t  tell  Garazeb  about  this.  Please.  “  

.

“ I understand.” She replied, though they both knew she couldn’t fully comprehend all he was feeling. Still, they felt the weight that sat on his shoulders. They understood its significance. None of the Spectres blamed Kallus for what he’d done, but Sabine knew that hearing something and believing it were two different things. Gods, did they know that...

“Please, make yourself at home,” she nodded, motioning to the cluttered interior of the ship. Sure, the cabin was a bit of a mess, but they got the feeling her friend wouldn’t mind. Well...maybe he’d mind a little, but the Ghost crew had always been so lovably chaotic. At their’s friend’s next request, though, her smile weakened, and they nodded solemnly.

“Speaking of Zeb,” they asked, already opening the digital art application on her datapad, “can I ask how you two are? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they added with a rush, careful to give him the chance to say no if he wanted. “I just know that with the whole time skip shit, everything’s been so...different.” A pause, as she rested stylus on screen. “Have you talked to them since?”

bly-5052​ // Bly

Bly flushed a little in pride, glancing down at their armor “Ah, thank you. I’ve had the designs since I left Kamino.” They told her, patting a hand over the design that matched the tattoos on their cheeks.

“Honestly? Not really. I just haven’t seen a Mandalorian outside the ones Prime had train us. Word was that no Mando’ade considered us one of them so I’ve kept my distance.” They admitted with a shrug, holding out their hand. “Commander Bly,” they introduced themselves before frowning and chuckling “I don’t know if I still hold my rank, but I don’t have a last name so I’ve just kept it.”

_

Their response to the compliment was endearing, and immediately Sabine smiled, eyes still tracing over their use of color and line on the worn armor. It was a familiar hue, one native to their forgotten family back on Krownest...

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bly. I’m Sabine.”

As she shook their hand, the Mandalorian thought on Bly’s words about belonging and identity. Though they hadn’t personally known any clones who’d held the title Mandalorian, she saw no reason why they couldn’t claim the heritage. After all, the children of Mandalore weren’t race, but creed.

“Tell you what, Bly. I could actually use some help fixing my ship, if you’ve got the time. I can’t offer you much in the way of credits, but I can cover a meal at the local cantina. It’s not the best in the parsec, but it’s hot. Plus, I’d enjoy the company, if you’re up for it.”

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

Being basically stuck on planet wasn’t something that Jango was fond of. But until comms we’re restored, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. At least he was on a decent planet.

But he didn’t have much to do other than stay in his ship and Jango had been there for long enough. He’d seen a cantina on his last trip into town, so he’d headed back out, forgoing his helmet but making sure the darksaber was attached to his belt.

Settling down with his newly gotten drink at a table near the back, Jango watched the crowd. He wasn’t able to take any jobs, but it never hurt to be up to date on the local gossip.

@call-me-spectre-five

_

The familiar shine of beskar’gam caught their eye as he took a seat in the corner, eyes wandering between the crowd of patrons. As he passed, a glint of  metal drew her attention to--

Was that the fucking darksaber? 

After what happened on Mandalore, Sabine didn’t know if they’d ever see it again-- if it was even a possibility. But, no, they knew that hilt, knew the weight of the weapon it carried inside it. Little did she expect to see it here of all places, of all times. This planet was meant to be nothing more than a pit stop in her trip, but they knew from one glance that plans would now need to be rescheduled.

“Quite some weapon you’ve got there, burc’ya. Care if I join you for a drink, or are you waiting on business?”

They wanted to know everything this stranger was willing to tell.

@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?”

@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?” 

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

most of the spectres didn’t happen to be particularly fond of him, given the way that he had met them all at the beginning –– perhaps not one of his most flawless plan executions, even if it had worked out just fine, as far as he was concerned. still, it did not stop him from lighting up with a wide grin when he recognized one of the youngest, wondering around the halls of the temple, appearing to enjoy theirself. at least she didn’t seem quite as displeased as kanan had been, all things considered.

“always a pleasure to see you again,” lando beamed at them. “of course. then again, I’d argue most little new republic socializers are my scene –– but yes, I put a rather generous donation together for tonight, courtesy of the mining corporation.” no sense in missing out an opportunity to brag, particularly if they still ad a certain impression about him.

It’s been a few since she last saw Lando. Uh, months? Years? Eh, it wasn’t much of a difference anyways. Here they were now, so the two might as well catch up over a drink. Or five!

“Yeah, how is the mining corp..corpor-- the guild? Or is guild a different thing?”

They felt something hot and bitter flash its way up her throat, then swallowed it back down with a look of confusion. Huh. Wonder if anyone had mixed this many alcohols from this many planets before?

“Lamdo, did you hear,” they slurred out in a loud imitation of a whisper, “that someone mixed up the ingredients in the desserts?” They offered him a delicate-looking pastry from a nearby table. “You like to gamble, right?” She muffled a grin for mock seriosity. Serios-- seriousness? Yeah, that was the one.

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.

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

skywalkerxlegacy​ // Luke Skywalker

The  human  talking  to  Mando  was  not  someone  that  Luke  was  familiar  with.  His  head  is  cloudy,  his  thought  in  a  haze.  One  hand  holds  the  brownie  in  his  hand  and  the  other  holds  a  glass  of  some  bubbly  liquid.  He  doesn’t  think  it’s  champagne,  as  it  looked  nothing  like  the  glass  he’d  had  with  Leia  earlier.  It’s  colored  and  he  takes  a  sip.  It’s  surprisingly  smooth  down  his  throat.  “  Who  are  you?  “  he  questioned,  looking  at  the  colored  hair.  His  brows  are  raised.  He  wouldn’t  normally  be  so  blunt,  but  he’s  curious  about  who  his  friend  is  spending  time  with.  It  shouldn’t  matter,  really,  but  it  does.  “  I’m  Luke.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​ 

Kriff, she was so glad that their friends had dragged her to this ridiculous party. It seemed so uptight and stuffy at the time, but now? Now she was surrounded by drinks and having the time of her life! It was only a few minutes after eating one of the brightly-colored desserts on display that Sabine noticed the man she had only heard rumors about, approaching them with a pointed gaze. A giggle escaped her lips at the question-- of course she knew who he was!

“‘m Sabine! Sabine Wren. Pleasure to--” hiccup “-- to meet you, Luke.” 

They caught a server droid passing by and grabbed two drinks off the tray, offering one to the man in front of her. 

“I fucking love your...” they paused, trying to form the words on her tongue (it felt so loose. that was weird, right?) “I love your outfit!”

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.”