@generalspectre​ // Hera Syndulla

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. 

❛  don’t waste the time i don’t have .  ❜

“Oh, but, general,” she countered in a dry whisper, toying with the hem of his collar, as though brushing off some loose dust. “I think you have plenty of time for me. I think you want to know exactly what I have to say, because you can’t stand the thought of someone holding information over your head. Besides, I know you have nowhere better to be than the lap of another Imperial or holonet reporter. Isn’t that right, Armitage?”

@generally-scheming

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   THE  REMARK,  A  BREACH  THROUGH  A  VEILED  HUSH,  was welcome yet unexpected.  he appreciates their comment,  how it didn’t come from a mouth of want.   there had been enough words from those seeking to shuck the beskar off his body,  making a flayed revenant out of him.   he thinks to ask about their armor in turn:   who painted it,  who forged it,  was it inherited;  things of the like.   they both know he will voice none of it,  but he still casts them a lilted glance in content. 

by the time they arrive,  the afternoon has deepened,  twin shadows trail their approach toward something a little more than a shed,  an initial shop that surely housed a downward descent  ( a staple of tatooine’s architecture ).   rounding the corner,  they near the garage opening,  with it’s gaping maw of oddities spilling forth.   towards the back seats a mechanic immersed in soldering,  though they instantly sensed the incoming presence.

 ❝  ah  —  now this is a surprise !  ❞  the worker pushes from their current project and rises to their feet,  bouncing with a certain energy.  nerves or just genuine shock at their entry,  din couldn’t tell.   a reflection of the alloy flickers across their eyes and a hand rises to shield from the brilliance,  wincing through a cordial smile all the while.    ❝  what can i do for you,  mandalorians ?   and make it quick !   the shop closes soon.  ❞   he questions that particular remark  —  there were a couple hours until dusk swallowed the land,  and the current season even staved the night’s reach.

din’s reply is curt,  as unrelenting as their steady walk into the workshop,  ❝  we’re not here for business.  ❞ 

the mechanic’s features falter,  darting through curiosity,  contempt,  concern,  then back to curiosity with open palms.    ❝  oh ?   then why would you two be here ?   i imagine you’d be quite busy with the  —  ❞   a north-bound wave of the hand,  back towards the village.   ❝   —  favors the locals asked of you.  ❞

his next approach is considered; either direct questioning or intimidating with an oppressive silence will set off this middleman  ( he assumes )  based on their snappy movements alone.   though a moment is taken to rethink this. perhaps the fellow mandalorian would like to initiate the conversation,  or instigate it.   an interest in witnessing her approach also goads him.   with his torso turning to his companion,  he looks at her  —  gestures made in silence to say,  ‘ will you do the honors ? ’

Sabine studies their counterpart’s features with a vested interest. Just because she cannot see their face does not mean the two don’t share another language, one comprised of the movement between breaths. It’s instinctual, a result of their shared heritage. His foot shifts the slightest degree backwards, and in turn she rocks forward, hand on blaster.

“So, here’s how this goes down. We all keep calm, and you tell us what we want to know--” Two pairs of veiled eyes met, and the Mandalorians tense, readying themselves for confrontation.

“--or--” they propose, now openly brandishing the firearm (one of a twin pair, just as their wielder).

“--you tell us what we want to know and you get a blaster bolt to the heart. Now, I may have a good temper, but I can’t vouch for my partner here.” A smile creeps into her voice, and they hope the humor is well-received. 

A flurry of steps, a dance of fingers on triggers and sand spitting from an attempted runaway. The pulse of energy, bright blue, trailing the space from metal tip to calloused leather, and the drop of a body. (Not dead. Only stunned.) With haste, they drag the body into the shadow of the workshop, then duck down a set of hidden stairs. The two work in an awkward sync, mirroring movements and hesitating with unease. Still, it works. With an ally at each other’s side (and a little bit of good fortune), the bounty was as good as theirs. 

“Kandosii, vod. Let’s go.”

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

“I know of her. I never met her though. From what I knew, she was an admirable woman.” Jango said, though he was pretty sure she had been aligned with Death Watch.

He hummed and smiled a little “I came across the Mando’ade who had it, he didn’t want it. Which was odd, he certainly had everything needed to be a good Mand’alor.” Jango said, shaking his head a little.

“I held the title once, when I was barely an adult. Shame kept me from coming back and taking it back up. But this…second chance I’ve been given, it was high time I reclaimed it.” He said. He didn’t know how much history Sabine knew, or if the Haat Mando’ade was even mentioned in their history with Death Watch and the New Mandalorian’s victories.

_

They nodded slowly, taking in the response with sobriety. So, he didn’t know her buir, or where she was. Maybe it was for the better, considering his distaste for Death Watch. Then again, Sabine would take any information they could get...

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I had that chance when I was younger, too. But I knew it didn’t belong with me. Maybe he felt the same way.”

The next part of the story, she knew parts of, gleaned from the information they’d heard in their youth, coupled with stories of war from the few mandos and clones left alive to remember.

“Yes, I know a little about that. I admit, I’m surprised to see both you and the saber here in this place and time. It’s been a tumultuous few years since I saw it last...Glad to know it rests in the hands of our people still,” they replied, mulling on the mixed feelings welling in her gut.

@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.” 

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

Jango sighed and pulled his helmet off before he noticed the Mando coming his way. If they had spotted the darksaber, he wasn’t about to fight in a crowded bar, so he hoped they were reasonable. 

He sipped at his drink as he watched the other approach and raised a brow at her, gesturing to the empty seat across from himself “Not business. But I suppose that depends on if you’re looking for a drink or a fight, burc’ya.” he said with a chuckle.

He hadn’t been challenged yet, but he was sure it wouldn’t be long. He’d do all he could to retain the saber and his pride. He’d even finally repainted Jaster’s symbol on his pauldron. 

_

The reveal of the warrior’s face was disorienting, to say the least. She’d seen that countenance a few times before, had shared meals and battlefield and laughter with someone who held the same lines of worry and laughter. Was this man a clone? But, then, why did he have the armor of a Mandalorian? For now, they resolved, all she could do was listen.

“Oh, I think you misunderstand me, friend. I don’t-- Er, I really don’t want that saber. I’m no leader, trust me. I’m just interested in how it’s traded hands since I last held it.”

They motioned for the bartender to bring another of whatever he was drinking, taking the seat across from him with a smile and an extended hand.

“I‘m Sabine. Sabine Wren. And I’d love a good story if you have the time.”

gcdlys​ // Ursa Wren

Sabine’s stillness slowed her slightly, gaze careful as she stopped a foot or so away from them. Clear shock, teary eyes, so much older - Ursa knew that the time she had missed must have held nothing good for her, for her family. A protective feeling rose up in her chest, fiercely defensive. Whatever had happened, she was here now. And she would not leave so quickly.

“Of course, ad’ika.” It was not an endearment she often used, reserved for when she thought her children needed most comfort. (And frankly, she had usually let Alrich handle the comforting. He was far better at it than she ever had been.) Her free hand flexed at her side, half reaching out to them and half reserved. “I’m alright, Sabine.”

It didn’t make sense. Mandalore, Krownest, they were in ruins. The only reason she hadn’t died in the Purge was because she’d been on the other end of the galaxy with another family. They’d long ago left hope for Clan Wren behind because it hurt too much. It hurt now, seeing the parent they’d given up on standing before her.

“Mom, I spent so much time running when I. I should have... I should have looked for you, and Dad, and Tristan’ika. I’m so sorry, I should have looked harder, should have--”

She couldn’t stop the words from tripping over their tongue, the tears from staining the careful paint of their mother’s armor as she accepted the outstretched arm, pulled themself into Ursa’s arms.

“D’you, er? Have you-- I mean.” A gasp of air between the tears, guilt consuming every fibre in her body.  “Have you found anyone else? Tristan, or Father?”

@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?”

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.

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