@generalspectre​ // Hera Syndulla

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

You  deserve  that.  Through  the  war  there  was  nothing  he  thought  he  deserved  more  than  a  prison  cell.  As  Fulcrum  he  had  done  some  good.  That  he  could  acknowledge.  It  was  the  only  thing  that  kept  him  waking  up  for  almost  a  year,  the  only  true  purpose  that  kept  him  at  bay.  He  had  done  more  when  he  had  truly  defected,  become  a  full  fledged  member  of  the  Rebellion.  But  so  many  people  had  seen  the  error  of  their  ways  before  he  had,  refused  to  cross  a  line  that  made  them  that  terrible  person  he  had  known  he  was.  Sabine  had  left  the  Imperial  Academy  when  they  learned  what  their  weapons  were  being  used  for.  They  had  morals.  It  had  taken  him  far  longer.  

Still,  the  words  coming  from  The  Mandalorian  are  said  with  good  intentions  and  he  smiles  a  little,  tipping  his  head  in  thanks.  In  truth,  he  would  have  done  anything  that  Garazeb  had  asked  him  to  afterwards.  He  wasn’t  willing  to  throw  one  of  the  only  good  things  in  his  life  away.  Even  if  the  thought  of  going  to  Lira  San  would  have  turned  his  insides,  had  he  known  before  they  arrived.  He  supposed  that’s  why  it  remained  a  secret  to  no  one  but  him.  “  The  war  has  changed  us  all  so  much,  hasn’t  it  ??  “  he  questioned  vaguely,  turning  away  from  them.  All  of  their  friends  and  loved  ones  had  been  scarred,  some  more  than  others,  but  The  Empire.  Even  at  its  end  there  was  still  pain.  So  much  unknown.  “  do  Mandalorians  long  for  peace  like  many  do  ??  “  he  asked.  “  Because  I  think  you  deserve  it  too,  if  you  want  it.  “  

He  looked  down  as  she  continued,  not  able  to  speak  as  the  words  faded  between  them.  He  felt  a  little  like  he  was  betraying  Zeb  by  looking  into  Thrawn’s  movements,  that  he  was  pushing  away  the  home  that  they  had  made  together.  It  wasn’t  that,  never  that,  but  he  needed  to  do  something  after  Ezra’s  death.  He  couldn’t  watch  the  mourning  of  his  closest  friend  any  longer.  “  It  is  okay  to  be…..  Struggling.  “  he  finally  decided  was  the  word,  looking  back  at  her.  “  I  know  I  have  been,  as  Zeb  has.  “  he  admitted.  “  Lately  I’ve  felt  restless.  I  want  throw  myself  back  into  something,  though  I  didn’t  know  what.  “  Even  as  he  tells  Sabine  that  it’s  okay  to  be  hurting,  he’s  admitting  that  he’s  attempted  to  ignore  all  of  that  for  action.  It  was  a  typical  imperial  response.  Again,  his  decades  of  training  back  at  the  forefront  of  his  world.  “  Zeb  would  be  happy  to  see  you,  if  you  wished  to  come  visit.  “  he  finally  said.  

Heavy emotion clouded the air between them, and silence counted itself as a member of the conversation. Sabine’s lips upturned into a small, wistful smile. They hesitated while their friend spoke what he needed to, and nodded when he was done.

“...I think we all reach for peace, Kallus, but in different ways. Some people, not just my own, think the best way to order is through spilled blood. I used to think the same.”

She paused. They could feel the emotion radiating off him, as much as he tried to guard himself against it. She wasn’t nearly as intuitive as their Jedi friends, but she knew the guilt and shame he grappled with. She recognized the hollow gaze in his eyes when he talked about the toll of war.

“Thank you, for coming all the way out here, for finding me.” They considered his words, still weighted on the air. You deserve it, too. She let that settle within her and instead decided to address the other part of his assurances.” I know I’m not in any place to give advice, but....I understand the need to keep working, to bury yourself in it. Really, I do. But, I’ve been learning-- there’s a fine line between keeping the people you love safe and abandoning them altogether.” 

So much went unsaid between the two, and she hoped he felt the same understanding in the commas, the sentiment in between words.

“Kallus, if time and place permitted, I would love to visit you both on Lira San someday.” To see the home you’ve made together. “But, until then, how do you feel about getting a drink?”

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

His pulse accelerated when they produced the datapad, its blank screen mocking him with unknown possibilities. But what could she possibly have? Hux had been meticulous about covering his tracks — he’d hired a slicer to remove any trace of him from the security footage at 500 Republica on the night he delivered the infamous Amidala tape. Then he’d gone a step further and airlocked the slicer to eliminate the risk that they would talk.   (Saved him a few credits, too.)   And he had of course searched Alton’s penthouse for bugs. Every time!  Granted, that night at the New Republic fundraiser when he had first met Alton, he had been… thoroughly inebriated   (not by his own design! Damn that Seventh Sister)   and had perhaps not been quite as cautious accompanying Alton back to his ship as was appropriate.   (Appropriate being not at all, but it was too late for that now.)  

But even as reason urged him to tread carefully, pride demanded he call her bluff. Hux returned their gaze with haughty, manufactured confidence.  “I would do nothing,”  Hux said firmly, as if saying it with sufficient authority would make it so,  “Because you have nothing. It does not exist.”  Cold sweat slicked his palms as he waited for her response.

_

His words rang with hollow intent in Sabine’s ears. Of course, he’d try to deny her accusation (no doubt a result of years of practice). She followed his glance once to the datapad and held it lithely in their fingertips, toying with the edge of the screen. He was trying to measure the truth in her words, trying to pry the evidence from them. Fine. She’d lean into the game. (No reward without risk, right?)

“Okay, Armitage. If that’s what you really think, who am I to stop you? After all--” they picked up the datapad, letting the grain of an image flash in his direction  for just a couple of moments before stowing it out of sight. “--I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d like to believe otherwise. Maybe I should take my concerns to them and be on my way.” 

They moved as if readying to leave, examining his face for any reaction. Stealth armor pressed into her skin beneath the dress, vibroblade at their thigh cool to the touch. Cowardly though Sabine thought he was, if there was any chance of a fight, she’d be ready. An inhale and an exhale marked her lungs, and excitement ran electric across the Mandalorian’s skin. The ball was in his court now, and Sabine couldn’t wait to see how he’d play.

pilotheart​ // Zay Versio

Well, that was smooth, uh? Zay wasn’t good at talking. Especially when she was worried, and her friend’s attitude was worrying her. It wasn’t a good new at all. Arriving in that time, Zay had decided she wasn’t going to get too attached to anyone - she couldn’t afford it when a relationship was based on a lie, right? But there she was. She had been lucky that Jyn understood it. She wasn’t sure that Sabine would, once the truth would go out. If it ever did. “No.” Zay shook her head. “You’re not that straightforward.” Not that Zay didn’t like it. Even if Sabine was drunk, or high, or whatever - and probably didn’t think it.

 “Oh,” was all they could find to say, a hollow ringing making its way through her ears. Was that real? Or the roar of a crowd and the hum of instrumentalists flickering in and out of her periphery? But try as they might, the Mandalorian couldn’t focus on that noise because they couldn’t take their eyes off of her friend. They listened with intent, face falling a little at Zay’s response. I must be a kriffing loser when I’m sober, huh?

“W-well, why not? I must be di’kutla for never having the gett’se to ask you on a proper date.” 

The music swelled up to a crescendo, filling her with a new sense of bravado. If they didn’t ask now, would they ever? Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach, but instead of pushing it away, they let it carry her forward, closer to the friend they found so enthralling. 

“Zay Farren, may I have this dance?”

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.

@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?”

@naboospage​ // Sache

Saché was home on Naboo when her commlink chimed. She had a few days off, and every time it happened she’d leave the base to go back on her homeworld. It felt good, to be able to go outside again. It was dark and the holoprojector was on. She was watching a Senate session, just like when the Old Republic was still going strong. A Senate session in which a dead Queen was giving a speech. Eyes frowned, Saché focused on the holo - trying to know whether this was the Padme she knew or not. She’d been doing it for three years. And still didn’t believe in the eventuality of her being back. When her comm chimed though, another friend reappeared in her life, chasing her thoughts away. The voice in the comm made her smile, filling her with relief - Sabine. If the Mandalorian contacted her, it meant they were feeling better. Saché knew it, having been in the same position twenty-six years ago when Padme died and the Republic fell. “Come home on Naboo,” Saché sent back with coordinates just in case. A day later Sabine was at her door, and she welcomed them with open arms, pulling them in a hug. “Sabine,” she greeted. “It’s good to see you, kid”

“Sache!” They accepted the hug, only a little startled about the contact. They had forgotten that her old friend was the hugging type, but it wasn’t a bad surprise by any means. When they broke away, Sabine surveyed her, checking for signs of worry and stress. The New Republic was still in its infancy, and they could only imagine the kind of anxiety that rebuilding government from the ashes of the Empire could evoke. It had to be a difficult job, but one she knew Sache well prepared for. Her main concern was that their friend would work too much, take too much upon her shoulders.

“It’s good to see you too! And Naboo.” Kriff, this planet was gorgeous. The rolling plains that delved into lakes, the green pastures filled with living, growing things. Flowers so small and delicate, yet towers and castles so grand. “I had almost forgotten how beautiful your home was. Tell me, do you ever find a break from work to just...admire it all?” They hoped not to sound judgmental or inquisitive, but just curious. 

❛ who am i to you ? ❜ from bo katan

The answer weighed heavy on her tongue. Once, they could have spoken truthfully, and with ease. But now? This Bo-Katan was different, younger. Unpredictable.

“You’re my friend and ally, Bo. I honor your commitment to Mandalore, and I trust that you’d honor our friendship if ever one of us needed help.”

They only hoped her words would not come back to cut them in time.

👌 …someone my muse has only met once, but will never forget.

@fearlessenator

Sabine looked quietly down at her shoes, struggling with the memory that presented itself first.

“There was a mission on Lothal once. It was supposed to be easy, just stealing a crate of ammunition from Imps...only, it didn’t turn out that way. Something went wrong, and some civilians got caught in the crossfire.” They paused, catching their breath uneasily in their throat. “There was a kid, not more than 5 or 6 years old. They got hit by Imperial fire. I—I saw them die.”

And Sabine couldn’t help but think that they were, in some part, responsible.

“But hey, those are the kids we’re fighting for, right? To keep that from happening ever again.”

@naboospage​ // Sache

There was a mirror in Sache’s office, and she spent some time looking at it while waiting for Sabine to come. She had to look different than what the Mandalorian remembered - she’d seen the holos showing the Saché of this timeline. All her features where almost unrecognisable- for her at least. The difference had to show in her holo message, too.

This was going to hurt, and not just her. Saché was pretty sure that once Sabine would learn the truth, they’d run away and never talk to her again. Which was understandable. She wouldn’t want to talk with a friend that didn’t remember any of her.

Once out of the office and facing Sabine, she tried her best to look strong and welcoming. The other’s confusion didn’t surprise her, but made her feel guilty and sad.

“Come in, I’ll make some tea,” Saché said as EP closed the door behind them. On another day she’d let the droid do the tea and serve them, but she needed to keep her hands busy. “Don’t apologise Sabine, I’ve been avoiding everyone since the war ended. I suppose you’ve heard of the Emperor’s Rift?” She didn’t wait for an answer, sat down while the water was boiling. “From my perspective, the Clone Wars ended three years ago. I greeted you like that because we haven’t met yet.”

Then she waited for a reaction. And for the water to boil. And for an excuse to leave, but she wasn’t going to run away from this. She had been avoiding everything for too long.

Tea would barely be enough to calm Sabine’s nerves, but it was better than nothing. They paid mind to the twisting arches of steam and the pressure of heat in her hands instead of the torrent of emotion boring holes into her brain. This Sache, she looked so different than they remembered. And now she knew why.

A note of guilt rang through the Mandalorian’s chest. If they had only reached out sooner, maybe neither person would be feeling this anxiety and hurt. And it did hurt. She thought she would have been used to it by now, the shifting of timelines and relationships, the loss of friends and family, but they never were. It was a fresh sting each time, a pain they would never be comfortable feeling. Still, she could feel the same emotions radiating from the person in front of them. Yes, the friendship would have to be rebuilt (and it probably wouldn’t look the same as one forged through the camaraderie of shared cause), but it was the least they could do to reassure Sache it wasn’t her fault.

“Well, then, it’s.” The words felt heavy and sticky on the roof of her mouth, something they had struggled with all of her life (despite her reputation for having a silver tongue). “It’s nice to meet you, Sache. Thank you for inviting me here. And for the tea.”

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.