@spectrcsix​ // Ezra Bridger

@cravked​ // trilla suduri

hindsight was twenty-twenty, or so people said, and there were a handful of ways in which trilla saw that to be true now. she had been a bit obsessive as a child, about the idea of being the best, and looked to improve her skills in whatever way that she had. although arrogance had plagued her as an inquisitor, it hadn’t been entirely blown out of narcissistic proportions. every skill that cere had, she had taken the time to master. she had learned even more with the empire. they may have still carried the red-bladed lightsaber with them, concealed underneath their coat, but their greatest skill would always be their brain.

trilla was well aware of the mechanics of most speeders, capable of fixing quite a few things when with the right tool. still, she did not expect the stranger to hand her a soldier tool. she hesitated, staring at it as it was extended for a long moment and debating walking away. but she was supposed to be better. she wanted to be better. she took it, but did not hold back the annoyed sigh.

“does my name really make that much of a difference, if it’ll fix this piece of junk?” for someone who did not have much money to their name, she could still be an occasional snob. the empire had many downsides, but she’d never had to deal with anything other than state of the art equipment as an inquisitor. a beat passed, stepping closer so that she could examine the problem with the speeder herself. “trilla,” she threw out after a few moments of silence. “you might be able to get it running for a bit longer, but that engine is going to breakdown on you if you pick up any proper speed.”

Sabine let out a short chuckle.

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way,” they responded. “About two times today, and once yesterday, actually,” she smirked. 

This visitor, Trilla, had an odd way of thinking about things. They allowed themself to wonder-- what could cause a person to maintain that attitude, while still being generous enough to help a stranger unprompted? Or, if not acting out of kindness, then what did Trilla need from Sabine? What debt would be owed?

Taking in the silence, they reached in their bag for another tool so the two could multitask at once. They worked in busy stillness, occasionally passing each other a tool or handing off a bit of cable or scrap metal to tie loose ends together. While it certainly was not neat (in fact, it was a quite messy job-- but, hey, she wanted to get the bike back before it was good for nothing but scrap metal), it appeared doable. When the silence seemed to linger in the air too long, she started humming an old song under their breath. It was barely more than a mumble, but it was all they needed to fill the quiet.The melody rang familiar on their tongue, just as it once had in the great halls of Mandalorian warriors long since fallen. They were interrupted when, with a loud POP!, the bike belched out a wisp of dark smoke.

“Osi’kyr!” She gasped, an exclamation of surprise, followed by a small mutter of disgust and frustration. “Haar’chak. What am I going to do now?”

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. 

@cravked​ // trilla suduri

her eyes rolled after the stranger’s comment, not quite believing it –– not that there was anything necessarily inherently wrong with what they were saying, but the mere fact that trilla did not think it was remotely possible that she could remind someone of a younger brother. there was nothing about them in general that would particularly be like that, she thought. nothing endearing or whatever else people thought about siblings. she didn’t know particularly much about what traditional family dynamics looked like. 

“i wouldn’t know, i never knew my family,” trilla answered with a shrug of her shoulders. it had never mattered to her as a child because that was just the way things were in the jedi temple. there were other younglings, the masters, but nothing by blood.

gaze tilted over toward them, her gaze narrowing slightly and looking at her a bit closer. “what about me reminds you of him?” she doesn’t care, if it were the truth –– but she doesn’t entirely believe that they were being wholly honest with her, and that was what she was much more interested in.

The answer Trilla gave wasn’t entirely surprising. Terrible, yes, but not unexpected. For years, the Empire had choked the galaxy from the innermost cities of the Core Worlds all the way to the Outer Rim. The time was a ruthless one, full of orphans and hungry hands. But something about the quickness, the coolness, with which she answered the question dug into Sabine. Still, Trilla expected a response, and Sabine wasn’t one to deny her that after the personal question she, herself had just asked.

“He was...a quiet kid. Incredibly smart, but sometimes he’d go days without speaking.” Sabine allowed themself a smile, stumbling through past memories. “He grew out of it, mostly, but even when we were still learning the six tenets of the resol’nare, he would listen more than speak. When he did, though, you knew that what he had to say was important. The most I ever heard from him was...” They took a breath, remembering the cold greetings back on Krownest years ago. The planet’s icy temperature hadn’t been the only thing to bring a chill to her skin that day.

“Anyways, you seem to share that similar stillness. The looking before jumping. The taste for observation. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

They looked over at their walking partner to gauge her reaction. The two were both hesitant of each other, but Sabine wanted to show that she could be open to trust. It didn’t come freely (not by a long shot) but Trilla had been nothing but helpful so far. The Mandalorian might as well attempt the same courtesy.

“And, he had a real sense of humor, though he didn’t always realize it.” They grinned crookedly. “The little mir’sheb. So, I’m sure you can understand the resemblance there.”

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

It  was  times  like  this  where  Kallus  thought  about  how  young  Sabine  and  Ezra  had  been  when  the  war  had  started.  They  were  not  much  older  than  children,  yet  to  the  enemy  they  had  been  heinous  rebels.  No  remorse  for  even  an  orphan  like  Ezra,  who  had  learned  to  survive.  He  had  chased  them  like  dogs.  As  they  spoke  to  him  he  sighed.  He  knew  all  about  that.  The  Empire  had  instilled  so  many  beliefs  in  him  and  it  had  taken  two  times  as  much  work  for  him  to  realize  that  the  brainwashing  was  just  that.  He  was  a  cog  in  the  machine,  no  one  special.  There  was  so  much  he  could  actually  do.  It  was  liberating  when  he  had  finally  started  asking  questions,  gaining  an  awareness.  The  cloud  had  been  lifted.  It  sounded  similar  for  his  Mandalorian  friend.  “  You  are  right  of  course…..  Not  everyone  has  the  same  idea  of  peace.  “  his  peace  had  been  sitting  on  his  porch  with  Zeb,  actually  able  to  take  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  A  home  that  was  his.  What  was  his  peace  now?  

It  was  easy  for  him  to  notice  how  Sabine  was  able  to  turn  things  back  to  him  and  how  poorly  he  was  doing.  But  he  didn’t  want  to  think  about  that  now,  Zeb  back  on  Lira  San,  abandoned  by  Kallus  to  go  on  some  self  serving  mission  to  capture  Thrawn,  only  stopping  because  he  was  worried  about  his  friends.  His  jaw  clenched  and  he  looked  away  again.  He  couldn’t  explain  this,  not  to  anyone.  “  Zeb’s  been  fighting  a  long  time.  Longer  than  many  of  us.  I  don’t…..  I  can’t  pull  him  back  in.  He  deserves  peace  more  than  anyone  I  know.  “  his  tone  is  guarded  now  and  when  he  looks  back,  his  eyes  are  colder.  No  one  would  agree  with  him  more  than  the  Ghost  Crew,  but  he  needed  to  make  his  intentions  clear.  Kallus  knew  that  Zeb  could  and  would  make  his  own  choice  if  need  be,  but  he  didn’t  want  it  to  come  to  that  point.  

He  shouldn’t  be  so  tense  with  Sabine.  The  Ghost  Crew  had  changed  his  life,  gave  him  something  to  actually  make  it  worth  while.  What  would  he  be  without  them?  Still,  Garazeb  made  him  question  everything  to  begin  with,  called  him  friend  when  he  deserved  anything  but.  He  would  protect  the  Lasat  with  all  he  had.  “  A  drink  sounds  nice.  “  he  agreed,  eyeing  them.  “  I  don’t  mean  to  be….  Harsh.  I  just  don’t  want  to  pull  him  back  into  this.  Not  unless  he  really  wants  to.  I  just  want  him  to  be  happy,  Sabine.  You  must  understand  that.  “  He  pulled  his  jacket  closer  to  him,  “  Do  you  have  a  cantina  in  mind?  “  

Tension permeated the air as her friend tightened his jaw. Sabine noticed the turning in his eyes, the shift from comfort to pain. They realized in that instant that their advice may have been too critical, could have come off as blaming this man for caring too much. That’s the last thing she wanted to convey. She knew how much Kallus meant to Zeb. How much they both meant to each other.

“Kallus, I think I...might not have explained myself well.” They took a breath, chose their words with more caution this time, careful not to seem judgmental. “I’m not blaming you, my friend,” they said with hesitancy as they reached down to wipe a smudge of dirt off the pigment of her armor. It needed a repainting soon, they noted.

“I understand how much you care for Zeb. For-- Well, for all of us.” They held his gaze, hoping to show him how much she cared too. “I just worry, is all. Well, I. And, I know-- I know we’ve been through...similar experiences.” They gritted their teeth through a smile and nodded. “I really don’t blame you one bit, Kallus. I just want you to be careful. For Zeb.” For all of us. They wiped the corner of their eye quickly, ignoring the moisture that had formed there. They’d both been through so much. This war had cost them both so much.

“C’mon, the Twisted Mynock Cantina is just a couple of klicks from here. Besides, I’ve gotta return this speeder bike to some old smuggler by sundown.”

As the two walked to where their bikes were parked, Sabine reached up, slowly, and placed their hand on Kallus’s shoulder. They had more in common than either of them cared to admit.

“I could really use that drink right about now.” 

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ? why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?

// Yep! Sabine definitely believes in some measure of luck (good and bad). After all, the Ghost Crew can’t have gotten out of all of those tight spots without a little extra help. They’re not completely sure that it comes from any one place; she’s wondered if it could be the Force or the council of fallen Mandalorian rulers known as the Ka’ra, but she’s really not sure. They’ve always tried to have an open mind when it comes to the varied religious history of Mandalore, and they remain content with understanding that not everything can be understood. What would be the fun if there wasn’t a little mystery in the galaxy? // 

@artfuldarthness

galaxywon​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Kallus  scanned  the  cluttered  vicinity,  but  found  no  issue  with  it.  He’d  been  in  much  tighter  situations  before,  both  as  an  Imperial  and  as  a  rebel.  Their  ship  seemed  homey,  lived  in,  more  clutter  than  he  had  ever  allowed  in  his  own  but  nothing  to  make  him  uncomfortable.  “  Thank  you.  “  he  nodded  politely,  back  set  straight  as  they  sat  down.  He  had  planned  to  be  as  quiet  as  possible,  melt  into  the  wall  if  he  was  able,  but  Sabine’s  words  cut  through  his  plans  almost  immediately.  He  cleared  his  throat,  careful  not  to  meet  their  eyes  as  reached  for  the  data  padd  in  his  pack.  “  We’ve  spoken,  “  he  started  off,  not  knowing  how  much  he  wanted  to  tell  Sabine,  or  how  much  Zeb  would.  They  were  from  this  time,  knew  that  he  and  Xeb  had  been  much  more  than  roommates.  He  could  speak  freely  about  it  in  these  walls  if  he  wanted  to.  

He  wasn’t  sure  he  could  without  feeling  sick.  “  We  met  at  a  party  a  while  back.  They  hadn’t  been  back  for  too  long.  “  he  explained.  “  I  was…..  Inebriated.  Not  of  my  own  doing,  of  course.  “  He  explained.  She  would  knew  what  he  was  talking  about.  The  talk  of  that  evening  would  go  on  for  quite  a  while  he  assumed.  “  It  didn’t  go  well.  I  didn’t……  I  couldn’t  tell  him.  I’m  not  going  to  change  his  whole  perception  of  reality.  It  would  be  selfish.  “  

.

They listened while lines bloomed on the screen beneath her fingertips. They could feel his mounting anxiety, could tell the subject was a sensitive one. It marked him like a line of sutures, and she wasn’t looking to deepen the cut. Uneasy humor nestled on their tongue at the mention of the fundraiser.

“Oh fuck, that party? Yeah, I think we all had our fair share of embarrassment.”

But, he continued, and emotions settled, like a fine sediment sinking to the bottom of a riverbed. Strokes became longer, less even, as they reflected upon the silence in between words. Measured the pauses that gave depth to the hurt.

“Fuck. I’m. I’m sorry, Alexsandr. I know how much he means to you. But, for what it’s worth,” they spoke, this time meeting his tired gaze. “I don’t think you’re selfish. Love is...it’s weird, and complicated. Sometimes it fucking sucks.” They offered a smile, though one marked with an untraceable sadness. How long had it been since the Mandalorian had been in love? Real, true love? Still, this wasn’t about her.

“Look, maybe you can find your way back to where you were, maybe you can’t, but. But, please, Alex.” they leaned forward even from across the cabin, reaching for him in a way no physical touch could ever convey.  “I’m here for you. Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” Family is more than blood. With that admission, the Mandalorian leaned back and picked up the pace of the stylus between their fingers. This tattoo, it seemed, might be a distraction from them both. Family is more than blood, but what if you were the one holding the knife?

@naboospage​ // Sache

Naboo was a unique world, and its capital was just as unique in its own way. Saché loved Theed, even if she missed the city’s natural look from her childhood. It had been shaped by the Trade Federation and the Empire, now looking like a whole new city compared to what it used to be. Even with that Saché knew the streets by heart and she led Sabine through places that Saché thought the Mandalorian would love to see. There was a lot of ways to go from the spaceport to the house Yané purchased all these years ago. Saché loved nothing more than changing her path every now and then. She also loved watching how guests reacted to it, finding out that her ideas where the right ones. “We have plenty of space for you, don’t worry!” Sabine’s reactions were definitely rewarding, Saché walked silently to let them enjoy some peaceful time for once. “We’re good,” Saché said fondly. “She knows me better than anyone, so we rarely argue. And when we do it’s more a discussion than a real argument.” Saché knew how lucky she was. They’d been so young when they first met, and their relationship could have been crushed easily by the time they spent apart when Saché was too busy at the assembly. But they held on, being friends first and lovers second. It was still the same four decades later. “Did you find anyone interesting while I wasn’t there?” Her voice was teasing, and she winked. Sabine didn’t have to answer if they weren’t comfortable with it, and Saché wanted them to know it.

.

Sabine’s eyes were drawn to the architecture they passed, gaze raising to meet the tops of businesses and homesteads alike. It all looked so delicate, detailed, and intricate. The artists that crafted such marvels deserved praise. It almost reminded them of the towering frescoes of Mandalore. For a place so storied in bloodshed and war, you wouldn’t think it a place as layered with art as any other planet; but, it was there, if only you knew where to look...

Even as they awed, the Mandalorian found themself listening intently to her friend, smiling at the happiness her friend seemed to share with Yane. It was a love well-deserved, after all the women had been through.

“That’s so great to hear, Sache. You’ve always been a fantastic team.”

Her question did tug a bit at their gut, though. Oh, there was someone the Mandalorian had their eyes on, but whether or not she was looking back was the question. Wistfulness passed over Sabine’s face for just a moment before flickering into a smile. They were unsure whether to brush it off with a joke or to be honest. Maybe her friend could help? There was a weird twist in the gut as they responded.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. There’s one person, but.” She exhaled, carding a hand through her hair. “It’s hard to tell if she likes me back. And I don’t know how to tell her...I mean, I don’t know how you and Yane did it,” they laughed, then exhaled heavily. It was weird to talk about, but they knew Sache was a good listener, knew she cared.

// sabine’s look for the life day event //

not featured: bold purple eyeliner, white painted nails

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.

@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?”