L  closed Starter  l  @finitefm

❛  can  i  come  with  you ?  ❜ ( from kallus )

Though the war was over, Sabine still found this base to be crowded on occasion; a hangar so close to the Core Worlds had its uses, after all. It was nice to see so many familiar faces, albeit a little overwhelming. But if they were going to leave for the mission, the time was now.

"You know I won't turn down that offer, Kallus." They passed his comlink back, frequency now in tune with the one at her hip. "Besides, I could always use the conversation. Hyperspace can be so boring, you know."

Forget the explosion – look at the colour!

@spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

Zeb pushed their way through the crowd of overdressed and obviously high partygoers. It would be funny – karabast, it was funny – but it would be funnier if it weren’t so surreal. He recognized plenty of faces in the crowd, but the last time he saw most of them they were back at Rebel headquarters wearing fatigues and anxious looks. If the war really was over, every one of them deserved a celebration; Zeb was the last person who’d deny them that. But Zeb was still having the damndest time shaking that ‘if.’ It had kept them away from the spiked desserts – if anyone decided to make trouble for the fledgling New Republic, they’d need their wits about them – but between Zeb’s general sense of displacement and their unexpectedly complicated conversation with Kallus, they found themself on the way to the bar. Zeb could handle a drink.

As he arrived at the bar, though, he came across someone who clearly could not. Or had chosen not to. Their slurred speech made his ears perk up. Karabast. Zeb intercepted a drink on its way into their hands and threw the bartender a dirty look.

“Right, I’ll say you’ve had enough. I’m cutting you off.”

​

“Wh-hoa! Zeb!” They let out a squeal reminiscent of a little kid (or a broken tea kettle), throwing her hands up in the air in excitement. “Ho-ly Kriff, it’s been so loooooong!” They started to stand from the barstool but stumbled, tripping over the metal and landing in a heap in his arms. She let out an elongated giggle. When was the last time that happened? She reached for the drink in her older brother’s hands, but they moved it away too quickly.

“c’mon, Zeb! I thought you were cool,” they pouted. “Wha-- What? Did yer stupid b-boyfriend put you up to this?” She tried to stand on her own but everything rocked around her. She leaned against Zeb begrudgingly. “Hmph. Dumb Kallus.” 

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

there was the slightest urge to ask why that was, if it had to do with the armor that the other wore or something that wore deeper. those pieces of empathy that had been such a marked part of her personality when she had been a child were rising up inside of her, despite how they had tried to bury them. they were out of practice with it, she supposed, the entire reason that they had even given the stranger a bit of help when there had been no real motivation or advantage to doing so, other than some sense of goodness driving them. 

“some people are just like that.” it’s an offer somewhere between, space for the other to talk about it if they so wished to, but not forcing it or asking quite so directly. that was just as much for her own sake as it was for theirs, she thought, but it didn’t matter. after today, what were the chances that they really ran into each other again? it was a large galaxy.

then again, if kestis was any evidence…

trilla shrugged, “it was no problem.” that much was true at least. they took the menu with little real interest. “so where will you go from here?”

Questions wedged themselves between the two, a hesitancy held by both parties. In the checkered silence, Sabine wondered if the other was ever the kind to stand out-- surely the lightsaber at their hip did.

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t have the intel I was looking for, but I knew it was a long shot when I landed, so I’m not too surprised.”

She picked at some stain on the table, a topography of other dining patrons, other conversations struck and bargains paid. Dim lights shone down around the bar, though most of the room was draped in comfortable shadow. Muffled music was spitting from broken speakers a few feet away. There, Sabine sat, painfully aware of everything, every sense filled to the brim.

“Might visit an old friend or two.” Somewhere she wouldn’t stand out. Somewhere Sabine knew they belonged. “And you? Are you staying here, or are you heading off-world?” There was a quick pause, a desire to run. Overruled. The Mandalorian took a sharp breath, reminding themself that there was no war to be found here. No enemy to run from. Yet.

“My ship has room for another passenger, if ever you want to let me repay the debt.”

She only half-expected Trilla to take up the offer, but it was the polite thing to do. Shit, without their help, Sabine might still be stranded a number of klicks away, walking the wrong direction. I wouldn’t be the first time, but every time, they wished it was the last.

@spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“I am cool,” Zeb snapped. “You know what’s not cool? Karking up your guts before it’s even hit kriffing midnight because you don’t know how to hold your liquor.” Karabast, he’s going to have to set a good example, isn’t he. With once last wistful glance at the mutlicolored and very potent-looking drink in their hand, Zeb slid it down the bar to the person on their other side and grumbled, “Knock yourself out, mate. You! Barkeep! Two waters, now.” Zeb’s gruff edge lingered as he turned back to Sabine. “Now hydration, that’s cool. You want to actually enjoy your drinks? Then pace yourself.”

Oh, for the love of Alderaan. ‘Hydration, that’s cool’ ?  Zeb had never felt so old in their kriffing life. But that’s what Sabine needed right now. Guilt twisted his stomach as they stumbled against him. Hadn’t Zeb’s lousy excuse for a parallel-timeline counterpart bothered to teach her to drink properly? Zeb set a steadying hand on Sabine’s shoulder, even as their last comment provoked a growl. “And for the last time, Kallus is not my boyfriend. ‘Sides, he’s in no state to be looking after anybody right now.”

“I w-would hold my liquor fine! If you would give it back to me!” They yelped as he pawed her reaching hand away. (Heh. Pawed). They shot the bartender a nasty glare and tried standing on her own. Feet felt like lead and head too thin, and the metal of the counter dug into their skin. 

“Zebbbbb, don’t you think I deserve a drink after the shit year I’ve had?! W-why not! Why not get fuck-king shitfaced?” She huffed. This had to be a joke. First all of the-- the shit! The shit with Ezra and Kanan and Mandalore, and-- and it hurt! It hurt and it was scary and it made her hands shake and her chest tight and!  And they just wanted it to mute, just for a moment! Moisture pooled at their eyes as Zeb spoke, as they responded. At his words, her face fell immediately, turning from anger and fear to...to something that ached deeper. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

“Wh-what do you mean he isn’t your boyfriend? Did. Did something happen?”

@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?”

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.

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

“  You’re  reckless  now.  “  Hera  reminded  them  with  an  affectionate  shove  of  their  arms  against  her  own.  It  was  something  they  all  shared.  The  twi’lek  had  told  herself  that  it  had  been  necessary.  Most  of  the  time  she  still  thought  it  was.  But  there  were  some  times,  like  looking  at  something  brilliant  that  their  son  had  done,  that  made  her  wonder  if  she  would  do  it  again  today,  leave  him  in  this  wide  galaxy  all  on  his  own.  They  followed  her  over  to  the  table,  sitting  opposite.  They  sighed.  It  was  easy  to  get  lost  in  all  the  things  she  had  done  wrong  as  a  parent.  Being  a  mom  was  hard.  Raising  a  force  sensitive  child  with  an  ability  that  they  did  not  have  was  even  harder.  

Kanan  made  it  easier,  but  that  didn’t  mean  it  didn’t  scare  them  still.  “  You’re  right,  as  always.  “  They  smiled,  reaching  to  grab  Sabine’s  hands.  “  It’s  a  mother’s  jobs  to  worry.  “  They  had  worried  about  the  Ghost  Crew  constantly.  Even  as  they  were  being  thrown  into  life  threatening  events  in  real  time.  “  My  father  respected  the  jedi,  worked  with  them  during  The  Clone  Wars.  But  no  one  could  warn  me  about  how  scary  it  is.  “  

At  the  mention  of  Chopper,  their  lips  quirked  up,  sitting  straighter  in  the  chair.  “  I’m  running  some  diagnostics.  When  the  Ghost  was  on  Sernpidal  he  got  banged  up.  Nothing  that  he  can’t  handle  though.  “  She  grinned.  “  Don’t  let  Chopper  hear  that  though.  Chaos  will  come  in  ten  fold.  Even  as  they  chatted,  it  seemed  like  more  was  going  on  than  they  were  saying.  It  worried  her.  Sabine  could  always  come  to  them.  They  hoped  that  they  knew  that  everything  would  be  dropped  in  a  second  for  any  member  of  the  crew.  

 “    What’s  on  your  mind,  Sabine  ?  “  

Of course, the compliments brought a smile to her face. They knew they were reckless, and they knew they were quick enough to catch a womp rat in its tracks. Still, to hear it from someone she held so much respect for...

“Vor’e, buir. And, hey. If you worry, it’s because you’re a good parent, Hera. Because you know that this galaxy is so big and dangerous, and you just want to keep him safe from that.”

That’s what she had wanted for their little brother, too. But the choices they’d made had hurt. They’d caused scars and bloodshed, and there was no erasing that. And the question, it pulled at their chest even more, a weight that tore through her lungs and into the pit of their stomach.

Sabine valued every relationship with the Spectres, but with Hera...She had always trusted them with feelings and thoughts that the others wren’t sure how to hold. Somehow, her parent always knew how to hear their child, knew how to make her feel held. And they were grateful for that, truly. It was with that trust that Sabine sighed and leaned forward, head resting on crossed arms. 

“You know I don’t want to bring the mood down, ‘specially now that we’re all together again, but...I keep thinking about my family. Well, my other family, on Mandalore.”

There it was, the guilt. The gnawing fear. Sabine knew that Hera understood about having another family (one bound by blood and not bond), but it always felt a little weird to bring them up to her. Still, they had to remind themself to trust the parent that sat before her. 

“I don’t know, I keep finding other Mandalorians out there and it’s just. I can’t help but wonder if they’re out there, too. And if they are, why they haven’t tried to...”

But she knew why. Sabine knew why they wouldn’t try. And she didn’t even blame them.

“When I do, y’know, I just feel this pressing guilt, like a weight on my shoulders. Like it’s my f-” 

The breath caught in their throat as eyes pricked up with moisture, too warm. Too uncomfortable. 

“Anyways. I’m sorry, Hera. I’m not trying to ruin our time together. I just really missed you. I missed this.”

📜

Zeb: I prevented a murder today. Sabine: Really? How’d you do that? Zeb: Self control.

@spectreoflasan

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.