@pilotheart // Zay Versio

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

the raise of their brow did not go unnoticed, but trilla was not in any kind of position to elaborate. it had nothing to do with the quasi-relationship that trilla had with sabine, but instead, more to do with the fact that they just didn’t know what to say. they didn’t know what was going on between herself and cal, or how to deal with that stupid, warm feeling in their chest that he gave her.

“at least avoiding food and alcohol is easy,” she offered with a shrug of one shoulder. they had been hesitant to even drink water here, but thus far, it seemed to be fine. “oh?” a slight question of disbelief. “you don’t seem like the diplomatic type.”

A chuckle escaped her lips, though not without some degree of acidity. It wasn’t the remark about the diplomacy that bothered them (she could handle negotiations and political affairs if it really came down to it). It was the gravity of the situation, the pull of the artifacts just hours away from liberation. 

“Not that kind of business, I’m afraid.” Now, they pressed one hand to the glass, fingertips cold against the pane. Finally, her gaze focused on Trilla’s, meeting their eyes for just a moment before flitting away to the decorated sarcophagus. “If you know what I mean.” It was ambiguous, but Sabine was sure their friend would understand. (Somehow, she wasn’t worried that they would tell.)

This night was exactly what Sabine needed. After months of...well, everything that had happened, this feeling was nothing short of a fucking miracle. So, they figured, might as well ride the high while it was here. Let tomorrow’s problems belong to tomorrow; today was for good company. And speaking of...

They spotted the twi’lek out of the corner of her eye, a nervous parent standing away from the prying eyes and hot bodies of the crowd. The garden outside was quieter, and well-lit with strings of lights. A striking contrast to their dark jumper. The weightlessness of whatever she had consumed carried them over, prompted them to pull Hera into embrace.

“Heraaaaa! Haar’chak, buir, I can’t you actually came!” They giggled and downed another shot, offering one to the mentor in front of her. “You look stunning.”

@generalspectre​ 

@versios​ // Iden Versio

although most of her time on new republic business was spent with the comfort of inferno squad and those that she knew best, iden still kept in communication with several other members of the rebellion. she was good at what she did, after all, and the rebellion’s strength came from its ability to work together. she happened to be rather fond of sabine –– she thought that the young woman was fiercely capable of quite a bit, and had a rather creative brain when it came to looking for solutions. if she were going to be truly self-aware, then she would have realized part of the reason that she liked sabine so much was the fact that she reminded iden of herself when she had been younger. reckless, but only in the most brilliant way.

“good to see you too, wren,” she remarked with a wry smile in response to the holo-recording. she grabbed her transmitter to get the other on the line, waiting for her to pick up before she spoke again. “it’s good to hear from you again, wren. what part of the galaxy are you in these days?”

The steady hum of the transceiver broke into a crackle, and Sabine’s eyes fluttered open sleepily. They hadn’t meant to doze off in the cockpit (that was risky business), but it had kind of just happened. Luckily, her little R-series droid had kept the flight path relatively consistent, and she gave the droid a pat on its dome before adjusting the frequency to match that of the incoming transmission. Finally, out came the familiar voice of their friend. So it seemed she had received their message.

“Commander, I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” they joked in between yawns. How long had it been since she had eaten something? Or had a proper sleep cycle, for that matter? Ah, that was a problem for another rotation. She turned their attention back to coming up with an answer to the question they had been asked.

“You know me, I love nothing more than enjoying all of the luxuries the Outer Rim has to offer. I mean, it just  doesn’t really get any better than the endless sandy wastes of Savareen or Tattooine, does it?” They pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, then glanced over their shoulder into the next room. It wasn’t like her to be distracted, but it seemed to be more and more commonplace over the last few days. 

“Sorry, uh, just looking for the cat. Blue seems to always be getting into trouble these days.” Where could he be hiding this time? “But, er, how have things been on your end, Commander? Anything I can help with? I...I heard about Hosk.” 

A heavy silence took its place on Sabine’s tongue then, until, with a deep sigh, they continued.

“If I’m being honest, commander, it’s not as easy as I imagined, this whole recovering-from-the-Empire thing.”

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Hux narrowed his eyes at this outrageous Mandalorian covered in bright purple from her dress to her hair. He did not dignify her insinuation with a reply.   (They couldn’t have proof ! Kastle’s reputation would be in tatters, and therefore useless to him.)   Hux’s nails dug into his palms as she continued her absurd pretense of flirtation. Midnight loomed, his agitation compounding as the seconds ticked away.

“I don’t like you,” he hissed, striding forward to confront them quietly. “A feeling which is obviously mutual, so let’s put an end to this farce. I would sooner walk directly into enemy fire than kiss you, Wren.” He flushed hearing the words out loud. “Mandalorian.”

.

This was something they were good at, something she prided herself in. Bending his composure under the weight of flattery and thinly-veiled threats. They had every reason no specific reason to harm him now (and especially not in a place so public), but it was fun to watch him squirm.

“That hurts, Hux. I happen to actually enjoy our chats.” And, that was partly true. Who else could they have this much fun toying with without it becoming something truly dangerous? “Oh, come on, Armitage. Would it kill you to at least play along? It’s not like it would be the end of the world.” 

With those words, the clock struck midnight. And all hell broke loose.

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

reading people had always something naturally to trilla, no doubt through their connection with the force. predicting people’s behaviors had been particularly honed by the empire: it had made them a good hunter. this was something personal for the mandalorian, bloody reminders of history painted all over the room. to them, she imagined, it probably felt like some kind of mockery.

“i see,” they remarked coolly, personally unbothered by it. it’s not as though it would have any affect on her, or anything that impacted her. she shrugged. “truthfully, i’d assumed you were one of those new republic types.” she’d only gotten in with her association with cal and his with the order, assumed something similar for them. “perhaps you’re more interesting than i gave you credit for.”

The smile was a little less sour than before as they savored another sip of the free beverage. Of course, Trilla wouldn’t be in danger of spilling their plans. Sabine had suspected from their first unusual encounter that they were of a similar mindset about the unsavory restrictions that laws could provide.

“I appreciate the New Republic for what it is and what it does, but I’ve always valued being able to work with a little more freedom than they can offer.” 

Meeting the gaze of their friend, Sabine motioned to place a hand on their arm, but hesitated, instead adjusting the fabric of her own dress.

“And, hey, I’m plenty interesting, Trilla. In fact, I’d offer to buy you a drink if I didn’t know you already had a special friend here and business to attend to. I’ll let you get back to them, but uh--” the smile turned upward into a smirk, “--don’t have too much fun.”

With a wink, Sabine turned to leave the room, artificial candlelight casting a dim purple reflection in the beskar that was soon to be returned home.

l  closed starter  l @naboospage 

Part of the healing was re-acquainting themself with the people they used to know. Sabine knew that she couldn’t spend forever on the outskirts of the galaxy, hunting down dead-ended information and criminal bounties alike. Grief had pushed her to seek space, but they knew now that the time for being alone was over. The last few weeks, she’d been gradually talking to more people from their past (Iden, Ahsoka, Kallus). Though some of the conversations were painful, she knew that being vulnerable is what her family would want her to do. Ezra and Tristan would want this for her. 

“Sache, my friend! This is Sabine.”

They spoke with more enthusiasm then they actually felt, hoping their facade wouldn’t be read through the blur of the holo-message. The two had been good friends, once upon a time, when the Rebellion had been in its most desperate need for agents of all kinds (and Sache had proved more capable than most).

“It’s been a while, but I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. I was hoping we could catch up sometime soon. When you have time, of course.”

They fiddled with the hem of their flight suit a moment before wrapping the message up with a pointed smile and a wink.

“Hope to hear from you soon, Sache. Safe travels.”

xspectre-1​ // Kanan Jarrus

as she warmed to his embrace he sighed some, holding her close. it had taken sometime for them to connect like this, but having her accept his comfort, having this relationship with her? he hadn’t realized how much he wanted sabine to feel like a part of his family until she finally had– he hadn’t expected to ever fill a father role– but how grateful he was of the opportunity. 

but unfortunately, that wasn’t at the front of his mind. it was hard to ignore the amount of confusion he was still feeling, despite his want to be able to be there for them. “it’s me sabine, it’s me, i’m here for you,” but he needed answers, and her response wasn’t the easiest to process. 

seven years. the thought of that loss of time– it hadn’t helped his jumbled mind. he blinked under his mask, having no words as they pulled his hand closer. until– “we won?” he questioned softly, as if not believing it. it was hard to– knowing how much they had lost. his hand met hers, squeezing it in his own, “kriff– we did?”

“Kanan, I-- I’m not sure how to ex-explain. I,” their breath caught in her throat, something in her lungs hitching and spiking. Pressure mounted in their chest and her hands trembled in anxiety. “Okay, uh,” her voice cracked. She didn’t have enough strength to do this...But the warmth of their father’s hand in her own was something to focus on. Something real.

“I-in my time, the Empire fell a few years ago, and...and something happened in the Force. I don’t--I don’t know how, exactly, but time got messed up. Some people were brought f-forward from the past, and some. Some back from the future. Some people that had died--” They shook their head violently, remembering every nightmare and flashback of--no! That wasn’t him! He was here. This wasn’t a dream. “Kanan, I thought you were... Hera, Zeb, Ezra, we...we thought you were gone.”

@beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   UNEASE  ABIDES  IN  THE  AIR,  so gently thawing but not dispelled,  and there is hesitation toward the outstretched palm.  however,  when the first word is shared between a common  (  yet scarce to many  )  tongue,  he finds himself already gripping theirs in a firm greeting.  he couldn’t help but echo their words,  ❝  su cuy’gar,  vod  …  as do i.  ❞   there is solace in their native salutation,  like water trickling a parched throat.  a beat passes as he stands and observes,  still puzzled by the other’s presence and speculating their origins.   decoration and individualization is frequent within their numbers,  though he hadn’t seen this particular motif.   nor do they follow the markings of bo-katan’s faction,  intricate in their cobalt hues.   the only solid conclusion that arrives is that they are not of the tribe,  not of nevarro  ─  and now only the unexpected is awaited. 

gaze keeps steady on the other’s visor.  ❝  you’re after the bounty,  right ?  ❞   an obvious question,  one intending to draw both a ‘yes’ and an elaboration,  if willing.   he wants to ask,  how long have you been here ?  though it borders on too personal.  do you follow the creed ?  the stories taught to me ?  i know you don’t,  but i had hoped  ─  even if i knew better,  i hoped.  lips purse,  and none of this is spoken.  it never is. 

instead,  he treads forwards with a truth.   ❝  i hadn’t heard of any other within the guild. not for a very long time.  ❞   he would of known,  or heard of remnants at the very least   ─   so why does one stand before him ?

The handshake is firm, and words returned in earnest. Sabine is...attuned to this person’s pain, can feel what hurt lingers in unspoken words. This is an ache she knows all too well. The ghosts of their people haunt every last Mandalorian that lives. While there is a flicker of hope, it sits heavy in the loss. 

There are questions, so many of them, pooling on their tongue, waiting to break the conversation. What clan do you belong to? Who were your people? How did you survive? Do you know anyone else in the faith? They push the inquiries aside, sure the person in front of them wants to ask, too. There is a time and place for that. Those things can be learned later. For now, there are introductions to be made and a bounty secured.

“The bounty, yes. One of the only reasons I’d visit this sandhole, I think,” they joke, and hope it is received well. Of all the weapons in her arsenal, perhaps the most used is humor. “I guess the reason you haven’t heard from the Guild is because I don’t really do my dealings with them.” Sabine weighs what they want to say, careful of where the other Mandalorian’s allegiances lie. “I mean, I follow the code, when I do decide to take a job. But I’m not strictly a hunter by profession. Just something to keep the ship flying and stomach full, you know?”

They pause, watching their acquaintance's body language for any signs of aggression. They notice that this warrior’s armor is pure, practically untarnished by paint and wear. She allows herself to wonder where they got it, and how recently. Was it new, or did they just take meticulous care of it?

“But, I gather this is your profession. Look, I don’t mean to step on any toes-- I can go if you’d like-- but perhaps we could work the job together?”

“i wouldn’t call myself lucky.”

The roar of blaster fire muffled his words, passed from one hidden visage to another. Sabine countered with a round of shots and ducked behind an empty freight car.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing!”

An explosion rocked their six, and she had to shout just to be heard.

“Haar’chak, what did we get ourselves into?”

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Hux scowled, recollecting her irritating and unprofessional banter during their last battle. It had been a week before the petty officers stopped giggling when they thought he wasn’t looking. His eyes darted around the bistro like a cornered animal. They had positioned themself between him and the exit, and Hux was not fool enough to start a knife fight with a Mandalorian.   (Not even one who had foregone beskar for a shimmering gown. At least it met the establishment’s dress code.)   The only move was to stay, figure out how much she really knew, and deny everything.

“No.”  Hux raised a hand to halt the waiter.  “The Merlot from Tal'onidir wineries will do. Two glasses of the most recent vintage.”  As they retreated, Hux turned his gaze back on the Mandalorian rebel.  “The last vintage, that is, before the vineyard burned. But you know all about that. The Empire would never have brought Mandalore so easily to its knees without your contributions, would they, Wren?”

Hux’s expression soured as the name rolled off his tongue. That syllable came preloaded with animosity for a different target; it felt wrong. He refocused on hiding his mounting anxiety. In conversation as on the battlefield, the best defense was a good offense.  “All this wild speculation about my love life, as if I have that kind of time. Does someone have a crush? What ever would your family think? I suppose we’ll never know.”

.

His eyes flitted around the room, no doubt searching for exits. But she knew he wouldn’t act so quickly if he didn’t have to. Hux wasn’t the kind to cause a scene if it could be avoided. They could tell he was starting to get defensive. Good. The anger could easily be mistaken for attack, but Sabine could read him better than that. When he snapped, it was out of pure self-preservation. In this way, Sabine disregarded the comment about the wine, shrugging it off with a wave of her hand. They’d done their research and come prepared. She had time for mourning and regret later, but for a man like this? He didn’t deserve any of her emotions. Instead, eyebrows raised in a practiced flirt, an attempt to sow discontent from the growing tension. They reflected on the informants she’d taken weeks to track down, the spies she’d had to weigh truth and lies from. One specific canary came to the forefront of their mind, and she rephrased their words with a gentle lilt.

“Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it, Armitage? And from what I hear, you have quite the taste for destruction, yourself. I mean, I can’t help but notice how familiar my surname is to you. Just a letter away, really. You have history with not one Ren, but two, am I right?”

The server returned with the requested bottle, and she nodded thanks as the glasses filled. Though their stomach churned at the idea of savoring something created by the people she’d helped destroy, Sabine didn’t let that sway her attitude. This persona, this mask, it was carefully curated just for him. (And wouldn’t that just flatter him to know?) There was no time to falter.

“Perhaps they wouldn’t be too pleased. But, then, dear old dad wouldn’t be too proud of your wine and dine with a Mandalorian, would he?”

Sabine smirked into their glass, before raising it in a mock toast.

“To forbidden romances.” They whispered, just loud enough for the general to hear. Perhaps that old adage still held some measure of truth. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. And even if it wasn’t right, oh, was it fun.