@spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

❛  do  you  think  i’m  stupid ?  ❜ (From Alton)

“Not necessarily.” She spoke was clarity and precision, every word punctuated with a sharpened edge. They held no love for the man who had smeared her family’s names and painted them as traitors during the birth of the Rebellion.

“Quite the opposite, in fact. Someone who profits on the suffering of others needs to have some level of intelligence to survive as long as you have.”

Their voice remained steady. She would not give him the satisfaction of emotion.

“You’re cruel, and you’re cowardly, but you’re not stupid. If you really want to know what I think of you--” they smiled, though it was empty and devoid of emotion, “--just know, it’s not fear or anger. I pity you, Alton.”

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

Being basically stuck on planet wasn’t something that Jango was fond of. But until comms we’re restored, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. At least he was on a decent planet.

But he didn’t have much to do other than stay in his ship and Jango had been there for long enough. He’d seen a cantina on his last trip into town, so he’d headed back out, forgoing his helmet but making sure the darksaber was attached to his belt.

Settling down with his newly gotten drink at a table near the back, Jango watched the crowd. He wasn’t able to take any jobs, but it never hurt to be up to date on the local gossip.

@call-me-spectre-five

_

The familiar shine of beskar’gam caught their eye as he took a seat in the corner, eyes wandering between the crowd of patrons. As he passed, a glint of  metal drew her attention to--

Was that the fucking darksaber? 

After what happened on Mandalore, Sabine didn’t know if they’d ever see it again-- if it was even a possibility. But, no, they knew that hilt, knew the weight of the weapon it carried inside it. Little did she expect to see it here of all places, of all times. This planet was meant to be nothing more than a pit stop in her trip, but they knew from one glance that plans would now need to be rescheduled.

“Quite some weapon you’ve got there, burc’ya. Care if I join you for a drink, or are you waiting on business?”

They wanted to know everything this stranger was willing to tell.

@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.” 

for   @beskarbuir and @finitefm​  // din djarin and tarre vizsla

──   MANDALORE,  YOUR  SCENERY  IS  LIKE  FAMINE.   mandalore,  the most stagnated,  ravaged part of it,  is too lucid for him.   the landscape straddles between home and desolation,  thriving in that liminal space;  that is to say,  it welcomes him without communion.  but that is alright,  for his learnings were true.   this is a cursed planet,  far past death and onto lying in wait.   feverish and weak.   imperials looming over and gorging on the fruit of their lands,  gloating as its acidic juice drips into the corpse’s eyes.   mandalore bares it’s clenched teeth and hungers,  too.  for ichor,  for people,  for love.

din will not be the one to satiate it.   the love he offers is for his people beyond this soured heart,  reared in their ways in places far from here.   they are a nomadic people steeped in an idea.   they are more than mandalore alone.   still,  he stood close to his companion in these past days,  keeping an eye on their surroundings but mostly on them.  it almost seemed like she would choke on the prospect of coming here,  of walking into the maw of their once home.   since their arrival,  her grief was mute;  hemorrhage kept internal.   he hopes they know that if they dotter,  he will bear their weight. 

though there,  in the distance,  rises a haunting:  arriving in beskar adorned in gilded fractures, as if shattered and rebuilt.   his steps nearly stop there,  hand so willing to pull sabine back for her safety.   to din,  they are an unknown beauty and terror looming forth   ─   and though the feeling is transient,  he dallies the tiniest bit slower than sabine when she perseveres in the face of a phantom.   then,  she drops to her knee as if the very sight of them is sacrosanct,  bowing their head in reverence.   ‘ tarre vizsla ’ ,  they had said,  and all besides the clan name and shriek hawk garners no recognition. 

his next move is less calculated.   there is a bow of his head,  hand to the heart while the other still grips his spear like a walking stick.   a commingled greeting less pronounced as sabine’s,  but respectful to a title that eludes him.   ❝  su cuy’gar.  ❞  a fraction of an accent lilts his words,  obvious in comparison between him and them,  but there is no shame in it.   he lifts his head and glances to his companion,  then back,    ❝  as had we.  ❞   concern edges his voice,  ❝  how long have you been here ?  ❞   this is a dead land.  there will be no survival here.

the   reactions   tarre   has   faced   from   their   people   have   been   many,   in   this   time.   they   cannot   say   that   the   awe   is   their   least   favorite,   for   they   have   felt   the   brunt   outraged   violence   at   assumed   deception.   the   PAIN   that   lay   beneath   those   interactions   bests   the   creeping   discomfort   of   respect   for   a   mythos   larger   than   their   life.   they   were   mand’alor   in   their   time,   after   all   –   they   know   the   INTENSITY   of   mandalorian   devotion.   but   they   have   only   made   martyrs.   to   BE   one   ?   it   is   something   entirely   different.  

when   she   kneels,   they   are   surprised   by   the   instinct   to   kneel   as   well,   to   find   the   level   of   her   eyes   beneath   her   colorful   helmet   and   assure   her   that   deference   is   largely   unnecessary.   but   this   is   not   a   force   call,   only   human   LONGING,   and   they   have   spent   years   attempting   to   calm   their   gut   punches   of   emotion.   they   mirror   her   companion   instead,   a   hand   raised   to   their   heart.   these   two   are   sharply   different   in   more   than   their   armor.   their   knowledge   of   HISTORY,   they   can   assume,   yet   the   importance   lies   in   the   force.   she   is   fireworks.   he   is   something   more   unobtrusive.   they   find   both   intriguing   on   a   level   that   may   speak   only   to   their   own   desire   for   new   connection   with   their   people.

there   are   more   pressing   matters   than   any   slowly   sharpening   edge   of   desperation,   however.   their   voice   is   smooth   as   mandalore’s   hot   winds   as   they   reply,   ❛   i   am   them.   please,   RISE   –   i   am   no   mand’alor   in   this   time.   ❜   they   would   insist   that   ALL   mandalorians   are   clan   enough   to   do   away   with   such   formalities,   if   they   had   not   begun   to   grasp   that   these   descendants   of   theirs   are   not   nearly   so   united.   ❛   i   am   glad   to   find   others.   what   is   left   of   history   is   something   worth   revisiting,   i   believe.   ❜

the   bittersweetness   of   it   all   is   beginning   to   burn.   they   tuck   the   feeling   underneath   their   tongue   and   let   it   rest   there,   tangled   up   in   the   core   of   them.   ❛   only   briefly.   there   is   better   accommodation   not   too   far   from   here.   i   wanted   to   see   what   this   became.   ❜   their   words   come   freely,   yet   remain   careful   with   that   bittersweet,   that   knot   of   feeling.   their   head   tilts   slightly   as   they   look   back   to   the   ruins.   ❛   this   is   a   place   of   BLOOD.   it   is   good   that   it   is   no   home.   ❜   it   had   been   theirs,   once,   and   they   suppose   that   that   is   the   tragedy   of   it.   this   loss   will   not   leave   them.

So, it was them, Mand’alor be’ruyot. How or why the leader had returned during their peoples’ most desolate hour was far beyond her understanding. Despite years spent in the company of Jedi, this was perhaps the most impossible thing she’d ever witnessed. Tongue heavy, Sabine found that they had no words-- no amount of training could have ever prepared her for this. Still, at their ancestor’s command, she rose, glancing over at their brother-in-arms.

The younger Mandalorian knew that their companion was not as versed in the history of their people-- which was not something she faulted them for. It just was, a product of circumstance. They examined him-- a shared language of silence only the two knew, unreliant on the visages hidden beneath beskar. This was the nature of their friendship: an understanding that silence had its own place in the conversations they held. So much was shared with so little sound. Despite the unease and confusion that now plagued them both, Sabine understood.

Attention turned, shifting back to the words spoken by one who held so many stories from an age lifetimes before her own. Guilt seized their breath once again. This place was no home, not for anyone. Nor had it been for years, and there were few more to blame than she. Sabine felt their voice waver and crack in response to the bitterness of the haastal.

“No. It is not.” So many skeletons haunted this wasteland once called prosperous, once called beloved. “It belongs now only to the mercy of the Ka’ra above.”

Noticing how uncomfortable the formalities had made their ancestor, Sabine extended an unsteady arm, anticipation of the traditional salute for Mando’ade.

“I am Sabine of Clan Wren and House Vizsla.” There was a moment of pause, consideration. Her companion could share their name if he wanted. It was optional, as most words between the two were. “It is an honor to share your name. Gedet’ye, what may I call you if not ner Mand’alor?”

They couldn’t help but hope her friend wasn’t too lost right now. She gave them a glance as if to reassure him that she’d explain later.

@generalspectre​ // Hera Syndulla

It had been hard, with everyone spread out so far. They were sure that it was the same for all of their family. They would survive, as they always had, their crew. But it would take time. She had her family, had Kanan and Jacen, but her heart did feel that much more full with Sabine in her arms. Their head pressed against their hair, truly breathing for the first time in months. “ I’m so glad to see you. “ they murmured. It was just like Sabine to ask about the others before settling down. Jacen would be excited to see them, she knew that. “ Jacen’s going to be upset he missed you coming. “ she replied, stepping back just far enough so they could meet their eyes. “ He’s so big, you won’t believe it. Kanan’s good. He’ll be sad he missed you, if you’re leaving soon. “ she eyed them then, eyebrows raised as if they hoped the Mandalorian would challenge them. The pilot had no intentions of letting her child go any time soon. 

“Awe, Hera, I tried to make it before sunsdown to see him, but I had to stop for a refuel and got caught in some New Republic protocol or another. I can’t wait to see him when he wakes up, though.” They could only imagine how much the little guy had grown, had taken after his parents. He had been a welcome addition to the Spectre family, and Sabine loved to spoil him when they could afford to come visit.

“I would love to stay a few days, if you’d have me.” From behind them, their loth-cat nipped at her heels playfully. “And Blue, of course.”

They adjusted the pack on her shoulder and withdrew a circular bottle, filled to the brim with a pale pink translucence. 

“Also, I brought Rylothan Yurp, if you’re up for a drink.”

They smiled crookedly, one corner of her lips barely higher than the other. It was good to be home again.

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Hux opened his mouth to retort that it might kill her, but an explosive roar drowned him out. The shockwave hurled him to the ground. His ears ringing, broken glass cutting at his hands and knees, he scrambled to find the source of the attack. His eyes darted past smoke, rubble, and the bodies of guests and Hapan navy alike. Overhead, a tall grey humanoid brandished an — eel? It snapped into a rigid spear when thrown to earth, head sizzling bright with plasma. Hux seized Sabine’s arm.   (Just a little push! End them!)    But at a last second realization, he reluctantly pulled them towards cover. They both narrowly escaped the blast.

“That’s not us,”  he hissed. Who but the First Order would attack a New Republic gala? His only clue was the bizarre weaponry, and the Mandalorian beside Hux was perhaps the galaxy’s second-best living mind in weapons development.  “Have you ever seen these explosives? They’re not Imperial. CSA? An enemy of Hapan?”

.

The shift was immediate. Suddenly, Sabine was on the floor, blinking up at passing lines of flame and shadow. Of fucking course something would shit on her one actual chance to preserve the heritage of Mandalore. Beneath her leg was the familiar discomfort of shrapnel digging into skin, and then a pull-- and not a minute too soon. Meeting that familiar face brought an anger to her stomach (of course she was stuck with the one asshole in this gala who would leap at the chance to make their life a living hell). But as another explosion rattled the building, Sabine realized all too clear: it was cooperation or death.

“You sure the bastards you work for aren’t finally ready to dump your sorry ass?” She muttered between gritted teeth, the sharp iron of blood on her tongue. “No, I’ve never seen anything like this!” They yelled to be heard over the din of chaos that was erupting around them. “I don’t know who the fuck this is or who they’re targeting, but it looks like we’re gonna have to work together.” She surveyed the area, tossing him some long shard of wood like a dagger and grabbing one for themself.

“Happy fucking new year, sweetheart.”

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

although upon previous encounters, it had been lando’s instinct to continue to treat her like the young teen that he had initially met them as, he was aware on some level now that sabine was an adult. it was enough to prevent him from dissuading her from engaging in some of the more adult-like activities of the evening. if anything, it just happened to make it more amusing.

“well, about time you recognize me as your friend,” he remarked with a chuckle, throwing his arm around her shoulders with a squeeze. “you could pass on that attitude to some of your friends, you know,” he grinned.

“i can think of a few. the one that will be the most fun will require at least a few more companions and a deck of cards. think you could gather up some people?”

Oya, that reply was so stupid! Obviously, he was her friend! Who else would share this many drinks with the Mandalorian? Who else would know the best drinking games? Lando was no favorite among any of the Ghost Crew, but they did know how to have fun! Some other people had already tried to get her to stop consuming so much alcohol, but that was just because they didn’t want Sabine to enjoy the night. Probably thought they were still a little kid. Hmph. At least he knew better! So, at their instructions, she grabbed another dessert and made for the promenade across from the ever-shifting crowd.

“Oh, no problem! Be right back!” They shouted, already halfway across the gallery, waving back with a clueless guffaw.

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ? how do they express that pride ?

// Sabine definitely takes gratification in the company they keep. After choosing to leave the Imperial Academy, she was ostracized from their family and spent some time wondering whether or not they deserved the isolation they received. Ketsu’s betrayal only strengthened this resolve and left them in doubt about their worthiness of friendship. This affected her ability to trust, and the first few months with the Spectres were a rough adjustment. Now, though, she loves them all fiercely. Sabine can’t believe that she got lucky enough to make the new family that they did, and they hold the Ghost crew in high respect and admiration. Though they’ll brag about their second family for hours and hours to any willing ear, she might not always vocalize that respect directly to the Spectres. Instead, she likes to focus on silent acts of love. If you find yourself with a new bottle of your favorite spirit of choice, find your blasters checked and polished, or if you feature in one of their artworks, just know-- Sabine truly loves you. // 

@spectreoflasan

spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“Karabast, Sabine, I….” Zeb raised their glass, heaved a sigh, and set it down. Seeing Sabine cry was excruciating. They got each other, Zeb and Sabine, but it had always remained unspoken – their true vulnerability hidden behind walls that both knew damn well the other could see right through, but they’d allowed each other the pretense of those safeguards, of… strength? Was that really what it was? But the impulse Zeb felt to lighten the gravity of this moment with some stupid joke or deflection… that wasn’t what Sabine needed. It wasn’t strength, that’s for sure. “I… I’m sorry. I hate hearing you had such a bad year. I wish I’d been there.” Had they been? Zeb had no idea what Sabine had been through in the last year, but it didn’t take a hyperspace scientist to tell it had been shit.

Sabine’s last question – their lapse into Mando’a – it hit Zeb right in the gut, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Sounds like the Empire got both our families.” Zeb’s hand clenched around their glass until it began to shake. They forced themself to relax before they broke any more glassware tonight.   ‘What happened on Lasan, it’s over for me,’   Zeb had said to Kallus once, and he had meant it. Recognizing their own ache in Sabine’s voice, though, it ripped the scab off and left them as raw as ever. So… Zeb said the only thing that had gotten them through it in the first place. It wasn’t like Sabine hadn’t seen them bleed before. “Maybe they can come back, maybe they can’t. Maybe they will. I don’t know. Wish I did. But I do know that right now, we have each other, and that counts for something. Voddy…” Karabast, he had to get this right. “Vod’ika.”

Her sibling’s words were a calm wave, something to grip onto among the onslaught of emotions she was facing. Manda, did they really feel that way? There was a twist in their stomach as her older sibling’s voice contorted in pain. In honesty. Even through the swimming vision and the burn in her throat, she knew what he was trying to say. It was familiar, the way they quietly shared each other’s struggles, the silent language of siblinghood. The grief and assurances were nonverbal more often than not, but just as prominently spoken. This time, though...Zeb surprised her. Their attempt at her first language-- it pushed her out of the chair and into his embrace. Before either could register the movement, Sabine threw their arms around his wide frame, buried her face in their fur.

“Ni k-kar’tayl gar darasuum, ori’vod.” It was familiar, the embrace. It was safe. “I missed you, big brother. I mean, I really missed you.” 

The Mandalorian let go, but held his piercing green gaze. And she gave as much of a grin as she could muster.

“I missed you, and your shit Mando’a.” 

mvchinery​ // Depa Billaba

admittedly, depa wasn’t at her most clearheaded, distracted by scanning the shelves behind her, looking for a specific file that should have been right around here, somewhere. she hadn’t always been the biggest fan of spending hours in the library as a youngling, but she knew the value of some good research, wanted to catch herself up on both some things she had missed & some ancient history.

she took a step back as they stumbled into each other, wincing apologetically. “it’s quite alright, it’s my fault — “ she leaned down to help them pick everything up, then tilted her head slightly at her question. “i don’t think so, no ? i’m depa billaba.” perhaps that would jog their memory, though she did not know them.

The woman had a kind demeanor, handing the Mandalorian back the few items she’d been careless enough to let drop. When question met its answer, their dawning realization was met with a gasp.

“Depa? Kanan’s master?” 

The handful of stories they’d heard on nights huddled around dying embers, nights full of laughter and guilt and regret and love-- the little she knew of Kanan’s past before meeting Hera...it’d been etched with admiration for the person that stood before Sabine now. Quickly, they shuffled the research materials into her bag, extending a now-free hand in greeting.

“Osi’kyr, it’s wonderful to meet you! I’m Sabine. Sabine Wren.”