@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

@pilotheart​ // Zay Versio

Zay Versio was… at loss with what she was supposed to say, now. She had people flirt with her, before, but it was often on missions, and often strangers, and she had no remorse in telling them off. There, she knew she was messing things up. And did not like even the idea of it. “Uh, it’s probably my fault,” Zay said. “I’m barely on base, so maybe you didn’t have time to actually ask.” To be honest, that wasn’t even a suggestion. Zay was always out flying, partly because she loved it and felt better on a ship than on ground, and because it helped in avoiding to be on the same base than her parents. Until now. “Will you teach me some mando'a, one day? It always sounds pretty.” Wow, that was stupid. But she’d always been interested in learning it, having inherited her father’s curiosity. Sabine’s next question made her freeze, though. Zay wasn’t on Onderon to have fun, but there was so many people that she probably wouldn’t be noticed leaving. And half of them didn’t have their senses, just like her friend. “If you’re ready to get your feet crushed, because I’ve never learned.” This was a mistake… but then again, Sabine was visibly drunk, so they weren’t going to remember it.

.

Though the room was spinning and shifting around them (was it more to do with the high or the nerves?), there was one thing Sabine could count on remaining steady. Those eyes. Zay’s eyes reflected the light above and around in a brilliance, a gaze of whiskey filtering sunlight. Sabine’s breath caught in their throat, and the Mandalorian took her friend’s hand gently in their own. 

“Zay, I would tell you anything you wanted to know,” they found themself breathing as the two adjusted their weight, an awkward movement of hands on shoulders, hips. They were unsure, both toeing gently around each other. Still, it wasn’t about the music or timing or even the missteps. It was more than that.

“I don’t think I can dance either,” they blushed, pulling her friend as close as she dared. Sure, she had learned once upon a time (there was a rhythm to war just as a there was to dance), but now... The music spun itself between them, filling the pauses with a prompt of movement and rhythm. The two rocked, slowly, and a little out of time, but the gesture was just as sweet. “Not like this, I mean.” Inebriated. Shitfaced. Fuck, what was she doing? Zay probably thought they were only acting on liquor and high. Did she think Sabine wasn’t sincere? It hurt to wonder. They cursed the stutter that burdened her lips, cursed the alcohol and the drugs and the fluttering fear at the thought of her friend’s hand in her own.

“Zay, I-I know you think it’s. That it’s because I’m drunk, and that’s partly true, but I— I feel like this when I’m sober, too. Okay. Like, even though there’s a million stars out there, all I can look at,” she exhaled softly, two pairs of war-marked eyes meeting and glancing away, “is you.”

There it was. And nothing could take it back now (not that they would if they could). Because Zay was worth the risk.

“You find me tomorrow and I’ll tell you the same thing.” And it was true. It had been true for weeks, months now. All she could do was hope their friend felt the same.

@beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   GAZES  BEAR  DOWN  UPON  THE  PAIR,  and he wonders exactly how much better he would fare in his old,  heavily worn armor.   perhaps the attention wouldn’t have lessened with such an acquaintance at his side,  but here the unmarked chrome reflectes her colors in such a way,  it makes them a most obvious pair.  the stressor is felt on both fronts,  kept secret between the two as rolling anxiety feeds from each other in a cycle.   they move closely  ─  but not too close,  rendering a strange pack formation where there’s equal safety and danger in their numbers.   one protecting the other. 

the ‘t’ of his visor is kept leveled,  knowing that an air of aloofness and the history behind tinted transparisteel deterred stares.   ❝  a little bit.  ❞   the words are coupled with one shoulder’s shrug.   this was a place he only passed through,  leaving just a brief sighting for children to whisper amongst each other.   yet one sweep through the village is enough to know that there’s little for the agent to hide in;  an odd choice for someone of moderate renown.

canting their head to the side,  they lead them to a couple vendors with pre-empire scraps to sell.   with a step forward they flick through dialects until common ground is found,  evident in how the seller lilts her head in recognition and leans forward.   between them a few probing questions flitter, a few credits discreetly traded  ( he scowls to himself for how little he can bribe with ),  until he finally turns to his kind with a breath.   ❝  there’s some rumor of a mechanic shop acting as a front,  toward the south.  ❞  plenty of supplies for makeshift weapons,  maybe some workers in on their dealings,  or it could be just that:  a rumor.   thoughts the other were filtering through too,  no doubt.   ❝  think it’s a lead ?  ❞

“I think it’s worth checking out before we run out of sunslight.” Or before someone tips off the bounty, they thought to themself. She could tell the other was thinking it, too. This kind of risk always posed itself, the concern of some low-life selling out someone they knew then warning them of impending capture. It had happened with the Ghost crew more than once, with friends and enemies alike. 

The walk carried a weight of silence. There was no hum of twin engines to separate them anymore, no rushing terrain to interrupt their stillness. It settled itself neatly over the pair (something Sabine suspected the other Mandalorian was quite used to). She could be, too, when the time arose. But, it was always easier for them to fill the void of quiet with sound. A song or a conversation soothed their nerves more than the absence of ever could. 

“Your beskar’gam and spear are...quite striking. For all the years it’s been since I re-forged my armor, there’s been little time it hasn’t seen color. Some days I could almost forget the grooves of pure metal. Mesh’la.” 

They put the comment out there, open for commentary, or just to be held by the two. If this warrior wanted to speak, the invitation was there. If not, that was just as well. Her companion seemed the type to enjoy silence, so their nonresponse would be just as accepted as conversation. Besides, the two were nearing the workshop, which now stood visible on the horizon through a shimmer of heat.

What We Lost Along the Way

| open starter |

Sabine stared up at the endless expanse of galaxies around her, watching as two little suns’ rays peeked their way over the horizon, honey interrupting the amethyst twinkling of stars above. This planet, for all of its dangers, was beautiful, that much was true. The hues above blended seamlessly, and all Sabine could do was stare in awe and silence up at the universe around them, a still wonder about the teeming nature of life filling the background of their mind.

Mud that had crusted over into dirt specked the underside of her boots, and they picked it away aimlessly. Their mind was somewhere else this sunsrise. Again, she nodded to herself in pensive silence. 

Don’t worry, Ezra. I haven’t forgotten you. 

And, it was as true as the air rushing through their lungs. Months had gone by since he had passed away, but they knew, somewhere inside, that he was watching over them even now. With that dopey grin and a quip on his tongue, he was there. It was a dull ache, a constant hum in their bones, that had kept her from giving up amid the stressors of war (like so many others had done before her). A heaviness pulled at their heart, a biting doubt that if only she had been a little faster— or had they been more communicative—

But it was no good to blame themself. Ezra was lost, and then he was found. And then he was lost again, but this time, with more permanence. It wasn’t her fault. Or, at least, that’s what their family had said. It’s not your fault. If only they could believe that.

So, they waited. They waited, and wondered if she should contact old friends for the first time in weeks. Those friends were not lost to time and space, just at a different point within it, after all. It had been lonely the last few weeks, chasing a lead of information that turned out, after all, to be nothing. Maybe it was time for them to reach out again, to return to community again. It was a task for another day (Sabine had stayed up all night repairing the speeder bike she borrowed and the weariness had finally caught up to them), but one that should come to pass nonetheless.

Sabine let their eyelids, heavy with the weight of all they still had to accomplish, flutter shut. Before passing into dreams, they remembered the way his crooked smile twisted up at the corner of his mouth. Sabine let themself grin, too. 

I will never forget you, vod’ika.

(Image Description under the cut)

(Image Description: A mountain range in the distance, enveloped in shadow. It is sunrise, and the sun’s orange rays blend into a sky of deep purple. Constellations of stars dot the sky en masse. A shooting star burns through the center of the image as a single, thin, white streak.)

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?”

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?”

mandalorians lost // a selfpara in which sabine finds paz among the chaos

cw: mention of injuries/bleeding

There wasn’t much time left to lose. The Mandalorian’s one ally (could they even call Hux that?) since this whole mess had started was no doubt rooms away by now, and she had little hope they’d see him again. But that was okay. It had to be, because there was no other choice. Because now they knelt in front of another who bore the same beskar, a faceless stranger she couldn’t hope to recognize.

He was injured, that much she could tell. At first, they saw nothing worse than the regular scrapes and cuts she’d sustained themself. But he wasn’t moving. They reached toward his neck to feel for a pulse, but to her horror, Sabine’s hand came back slick with blood. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. She’d lost too much to watch him die, too. They had no clue who he was, but it couldn’t happen. They wouldn’t let it happen.

With a gentle touch, she removed the helm that was supposed to protect him from harm, supposed to help him carry on the legacy she’d nearly destroyed. Instead, they found a man (barely a decade older than herself), bleeding heavily on his right side. But, miracle of miracles, he was breathing. There was still a chance. Though, with this thought, something in the floor shook and careened, and they gritted their teeth in frustration. It wasn’t safe here. Tired though she was, Sabine grabbed the other Mandalorian and dragged him into a nearby corridor. They clung to the conviction of hope like a lifeline, like a snare.

Working quickly, they tore off pieces from the ruined train of her dress, folding fabric and holding it against the wound on his temple. What they wouldn’t fucking give for proper medical supplies right now. But, as her family had taught Sabine since birth, a Mandalorian made do. For moments, maybe hours (there was no accounting for the passage of time anymore), Sabine sat at this stranger’s side, pressing into the wound (even after it had slowed and stopped its bleeding) and praying to the unseen Ka’ra above. Thank the Force, or the Manda or whatever the fuck was keeping them alive, but the injury didn’t look deep enough to warrant serious attention. 

Just as they noticed a flutter in his eyelids Sabine heard the heavy footsteps of another approaching, and they had no way of telling if it was friend or foe. In a moment of clarity, the young Mandalorian knew what they had to do. Kneeling over his bloodied frame, Sabine muttered a quick prayer to their ancestors (a litany long used for children of Mandalore seeking a path to peace and safety). She left in his hands a long, jagged shard of glass they’d found among the ruins, and took into her own the remains of some twisted metal sculpture. There was no more she could do for this vod than lead the fire away from him. 

Some moments later, Paz Vizsla awoke for the first time in his life, fully vulnerable, his helmet lost among the burning rubble around him.

@spectrcsix​ // Ezra Bridger

closed starter for @call-me-spectre-five -

“please don’t hit me. or shoot me. or throw something at me!” ezra calls out as he approaches, gritting his teeth. he fully expects sabine to do at least one of those things after the choices he made - not that she thinks she wouldn’t have understood, but that doesn’t mean it was necessarily an easy decision for everyone to have accepted. he gets that. he does.

he stands by it, though, just like he knows kanan stood by his choice despite the cost.

he holds his hands up in an attempt to show he’s not here for a fight, his trademark guilty-embarrassed-bashful sort of smile on his face. not that ezra expects that to be enough to save his ass from sabine’s wrath, but he has to try. right? “would it help to know you’re like - the second person i’ve come to see? so pretty high on the list. that counts for something, right?

Sabine had heard rumors about Ezra since almost right after he disappeared. Where to search wild space, who knew anything, what to do in the face of her loss. After one lie too many, Sabine had closed themself off, prompting weeks of solitude and grief. She had promised herself then that she wouldn’t respond to another false informant, but this, this felt...different. They couldn’t explain it, only that it was a pull in her gut leading to the point of the rendezvous. And…they actually couldn’t believe the figure standing before her.

“Ezra?” They asked, voice weighty with emotion. No, this had to be a trick. It had been a long time (too long) and she couldn’t be lucky enough to win this one. If it was Ezra, what had she done to deserve him back? Why now? But he kept talking and moving and breathing and being so Ezra.

“Ezra! Fuck!” They dropped everything and leapt into him, nearly tackling him to the ground. He was taller than them now, but all she could do was throw her arms around his frame, pull him close. They exhaled into his side, feeling for the first time in months a genuine sense of hope. Kanan was back, and now, so was Ezra. Her family was back, and there was nothing else she needed in this moment. And then, despite his warnings, she gave him a light smack on the back of the head. Nothing that would hurt, but something reminiscent of times when they could show affection through sparring (both verbal and physical). “Copaani mirshmure’cye, vod’ika? Where the hell have you been?”

Words started to stick together and bottles seemed more empty than before. Something in the room had shifted, and everything seemed a few degrees too thin. The world was stretched, but at least it was still funny...right? 

“’scuse me--” The less-than-noble warrior asked of the blurred figure on their left. “but d’ya know--”

--where the closest fresher is? Or, that’s what she meant to ask. But, when the stranger turned to face her, what came out instead was a faint squeak and...

“kriff, you’re beautiful!”

Ah, fuck. Did she really just say that out loud? 

@hopejedi​

generalspectre​ // hera syndulla

“  You  know,  it’s  starting  to  get  lonely  on  this  ship.  “  Hera  teases  as  they  stand,  arms  already  wrapping  around  the  colorful  armor  of  their  child.  While  neither  Hera  nor  Jacen  had  much  interest  in  him  becoming  a  jedi,  Luke  would  come  sometimes  and  work  on  control  with  her  son.  Small  things  to  help  him  get  by  in  the  galaxy.  This  was  one  of  those  times.  It  was  hard  to  trust  anyone  but  their  family  with  him,  but  they  knew  that  Jacen  would  be  in  good  hands.  “  But  I’m  proud  of  you.  What  you’re  doing  is  important.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​​

.

Their praise and embrace brought a smile to Sabine’s lips. The two shared a language outside of the spoken word. When you’ve been to hell and back with your family at your side, there are some things better expressed in the pauses between words, the silence before speech.

“Thank you, Hera. You know I’m always happy to see you.” They dropped their bags in the old cargo room, happy to see her artwork still adorning the walls of the Ghost. “If you ever want to get the little womp rat out of your lekku for a weekend, give me a call.” 

Looking closer, they noticed colorful scribbles on the wall beside her own. Huh. The kiddo wasn’t too old but his control of line, his use of color...it was already well-developed. The thought of her vod’ika taking after them at all made Sabine swell with pride.

“Jacen’s works, I assume?”

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

Oh  thank  the  Force  Hera  thought,  pushing  through  the  pain  to  meet  Sabine,  hands  automatically  going  to  their  upper  arms,  examining  them  for  any  visible  signs  of  injury.  Outwardly  she  looked  okay,  but  that  meant  nothing  right  now.  “  No-no….    Not  since  the  explosions.  “  Kriff,  she  had  just  gotten  her  family  whole  again.  Their  stomach  was  in  knots.  “  We  need  to  find  them.  Chop  should  still  be  with  the  ship.  We  can  signal  for  a  pick  up  when  we’re  sure  everything  has  calmed  down.  “  There  was  that  small  relief  at  least.  Hera  hadn’t  trusted  her  droid  not  to  d  something  to  upset  the  very  unsteady  alliance  the  New  Republic  had  with  the  Hapans.  “  Do  you  know  what  happened  ?  “  

_

Fuck, the burns on Hera looked something awful. But they couldn’t focus on that now. Sabine hadn’t found anyone else, and apparently, neither had Hera. They pushed the repulsive thought of what could have happened to them to the back of her mind, focusing instead on the way forward.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. We make for the shipyard, then we find them.” If they could still be found.

In response to their question, she shook their head no, offering little comment as the two ducked for cover. It was all she could do from letting the dread of yet another lost family from choking them.