Spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrellios

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

Where  are  they  ??  Hera’s  heart  is  racing,  the  adrenaline  pumping  through  their  veins.  It’s  the  only  way  she’s  ignoring  the  pain  all  over  her  body,  the  fresh  burns  that  had  been  from  the  explosions  just  minutes  after  midnight.  Lekku  damaged,  tattoos  previously  there  now  scattered  with  marred  skin.  Had  it  been  minutes  ??  she  can’t  tell,  can’t  think  straight.  A  flash  of  purple  fabric  has  them  looking  closer,  voice  horse,  “  Sabine  ?!  “  Were  the  others  with  them?  

.

The voice rang clear and familiar even through the erupted chaos around them. They’d heard that voice in firefights and stealth operations alike, from late night confessions to hurried commands of battle. It sent a renewed wave of strength through her bones, pushed her forward, past the bodies and rubble. 

“Buir! Thank fuck you’re alive!” A pause, measuring the damage done to Hera’s lekku, no doubt a result of the flames. “Have you seen anyone else?” The question was vague, but she knew they’d understand. Both needed to know if their family was alive.

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.

mandalorians lost // a selfpara in which sabine finds paz among the chaos

cw: mention of injuries/bleeding

There wasn’t much time left to lose. The Mandalorian’s one ally (could they even call Hux that?) since this whole mess had started was no doubt rooms away by now, and she had little hope they’d see him again. But that was okay. It had to be, because there was no other choice. Because now they knelt in front of another who bore the same beskar, a faceless stranger she couldn’t hope to recognize.

He was injured, that much she could tell. At first, they saw nothing worse than the regular scrapes and cuts she’d sustained themself. But he wasn’t moving. They reached toward his neck to feel for a pulse, but to her horror, Sabine’s hand came back slick with blood. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. She’d lost too much to watch him die, too. They had no clue who he was, but it couldn’t happen. They wouldn’t let it happen.

With a gentle touch, she removed the helm that was supposed to protect him from harm, supposed to help him carry on the legacy she’d nearly destroyed. Instead, they found a man (barely a decade older than herself), bleeding heavily on his right side. But, miracle of miracles, he was breathing. There was still a chance. Though, with this thought, something in the floor shook and careened, and they gritted their teeth in frustration. It wasn’t safe here. Tired though she was, Sabine grabbed the other Mandalorian and dragged him into a nearby corridor. They clung to the conviction of hope like a lifeline, like a snare.

Working quickly, they tore off pieces from the ruined train of her dress, folding fabric and holding it against the wound on his temple. What they wouldn’t fucking give for proper medical supplies right now. But, as her family had taught Sabine since birth, a Mandalorian made do. For moments, maybe hours (there was no accounting for the passage of time anymore), Sabine sat at this stranger’s side, pressing into the wound (even after it had slowed and stopped its bleeding) and praying to the unseen Ka’ra above. Thank the Force, or the Manda or whatever the fuck was keeping them alive, but the injury didn’t look deep enough to warrant serious attention. 

Just as they noticed a flutter in his eyelids Sabine heard the heavy footsteps of another approaching, and they had no way of telling if it was friend or foe. In a moment of clarity, the young Mandalorian knew what they had to do. Kneeling over his bloodied frame, Sabine muttered a quick prayer to their ancestors (a litany long used for children of Mandalore seeking a path to peace and safety). She left in his hands a long, jagged shard of glass they’d found among the ruins, and took into her own the remains of some twisted metal sculpture. There was no more she could do for this vod than lead the fire away from him. 

Some moments later, Paz Vizsla awoke for the first time in his life, fully vulnerable, his helmet lost among the burning rubble around him.

📜 – kanan

Sabine: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Kanan: Really? Name one law Sabine: Don't kill people? Kanan: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

(bonus!)

Sabine: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Kanan: You're like 15 years old Sabine: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!

@sacreficied 

generally-scheming​ // armitage hux

“Buckethead?” Hux turned to the petty officer stationed nearby. “They do know that officers don’t wear…” A pilot glanced back at Hux from under a rounded helmet that flared dramatically at the base. Hux cleared his throat.

“Bold talk, rebel scum. If you’re so confident, why don’t you come a bit closer?” He gazed out from the bridge of the light command cruiser he’d acquired for what was meant to be a stealth patrol. The rebel ship hailing them was just beyond range of their turbolasers.

“Oya, cyar’ika, at least buy me dinner before you start the sweet-talking, okay?” Sabine teased with an amusement that was only half nerves. Their Rebel ship was still out of range. She just needed time to calculate the hyperspace route. “The again, you’re not really my type. And, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess I’m not really yours, huh?”

The speaker had some sort of pride, they figured. Something to prove. Probably has a shit-ton of people under their ranks, but was still starving for blood, for a chance to be the best. Sabine had seen this type before. It was all too easy to piss them off, and it brought a genuine smile to their face.

“Listen, I’d love to stick around for that date, general,” she emphasized the title for effect (hopefully the other officers were listening). “But I think I’m gonna take a rain check.” Silently, they diverted power to the hyperdrive, but didn’t yet signal for the jump. She wanted to hear first if there were any parting remarks. Much as they hated what little remains of the Empire were left, she did enjoy this kind of banter. And who knows? Maybe they’d run into each other again.

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kandosii, vod. Let’s go.”

cptfulcrum​ // alexsandr kallus

“  I  have  a  request,  if  you’re  up  for  it.  “  His  face  is  neutral,  but  there’s  a  nervous  way  that  his  eyes  twitch  to  the  datapad  down  at  his  hands  that  would  show  to  someone  that  knows  him,  like  Sabine,  that  the  request  is  not  simply  work  related.  “  If  not,  I  am  hoping  you  can  point  me  in  the  right  direction  of  someone  who  can  help.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​​ 

.

With a youthful smirk that her mother would have chided at, Sabine rolled their eyes. “Kallus, how long have we been friends?” But instead of waiting for an answer, she proceeded with the same humor. “Years, di’kut. You’ve been a pain in my ass for years.” Then, noticing the anxiety he carried, the fluttering of eyelashes, fingertips-- she stilled, reaching to place their hand over his own. Hoping to provide some fraction of reassurance. Voice quieter and slower, they answered, eyes never wavering from his gaze. “Hey, you’re my friend. Of course I’m gonna help you. What can I do?”

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

As  much  as  this  would  have  shocked  his  former  self,  Kallus  genuinely  cared  about  each  of  the  Spectres.  He  knew  his  friendship  with  Zeb  helped  with  that.  He  cared  about  the  Lasat,  so  of  course  he  would  care  for  Zeb’s  family.  It  wasn’t  all  that  however.  They  hadn’t  treated  him  horribly  after  his  defection,  something  that  he  still  thought  he  deserved.  They  were  dedicated  rebels,  accomplished  strategists,  caring  people.  He  was  lucky  to  have  friends  like  them,  especially  now,  when  everything  felt  like  it  was  falling  apart.  He  knew  that  Sabine  could  relate  to  that.  They  all  could  now.  

He  was  being  protective.  It  wasn’t  necessary,  not  with  Sabine.  They  cared  for  Zeb  as  much  as  he  did  if  not  more.  It  was  an  interesting  relationship,  theirs  was.  Maybe  it  was  because  he’s  never  had  anything  like  that  before.  “  I’m  sorry.  “  he  expels  a  breath,  focusing  in  on  the  way  they  chipped  the  dirt  off  of  their  armor.  “  I  know  you  mean  well.  Zeb  is  lucky  to  have  such  caring  friends.  I  just….  “  he  trailed  off,  running  a  hand  through  his  beard.  Having  friends  was  sometimes  much  harder  than  not  having  them.  “  We  were  happy  on  Lira  San.  “  he  admitted,  quieter  than  before.  “  We  were  happy.  “  It  felt  like  so  long  ago,  before  they  had  heard  of  Ezra’s  death  and  before  he  had  decided  to  leave.  It  felt  like  a  long  time  ago,  but  it  hadn’t  been  a  great  length  of  time.

“  I  just  want  him  to  continue  to  be  happy.  “  Kallus  confided,  sucking  in  another  breath.  It  was  only  tactful  to  ignore  the  tears  that  Sabine  was  letting  out,  just  as  she  was  ignoring  the  ones  threatening  to  fall  from  his  eyes.  He  hadn’t  truly  cried  in  a  long  time.  He  started  towards  his  back,  quietly.  He  thought  about  Sabine’s  words.  They  were  both  Imperial  defectors,  though  she  was  much  better  than  he.  It  took  him  almost  two  decades  to  figure  out  what  they  had  before  they  even  graduated  the  Academy.  “  I  wouldn’t  go  comparing  yourself  to  the  likes  of  me.  “  he  said,  hoping  his  tone  sounded  as  light  as  he  wanted  it  to.  His  eyes  met  theirs  and  he  nodded.  That  was  one  thing  they  could  agree  on  at  least.  “  Would  it  be  quite  childish  of  me  to  suggest  a  race?  “  he  grinned,  already  mounting  his  speeder,  hoping  that  maybe  they  could  ignore  the  despair  they  both  felt  for  just  a  bit.  

As  he  rode  through  the  desert  his  hair  whipped  around  him.  He  should  have  tied  it  up  before  starting  this  journey.  It  had  grown  much  longer.  The  Empire  would  never  have  stood  for  that.  It  made  him  grin  to  himself  at  the  thought.  The  more  he  changed,  the  more  he  rebelled  against  what  the  Empire  instilled  in  him,  the  more  he  felt  like  he  was  finally  becoming  who  he  meant  to  be.  

“It would only be childish if you lost!” Sabine shouted as they mounted the speeder bike, already racing over the terrain with a wide smile. The wind did nothing for the silent tears hidden beneath her visor. Fuck. She hated crying, but found herself doing it so much lately...Instead, they redirected attention to the passing foliage, the colors that blended and swirled around her. 

Kallus was no stranger to a speeder, it was obvious, but she was sure she had more practical experience. He might have studied at the Academy, but Sabine had been riding since they were a child, since the occupation of the Empire on Mandalore. How he saw in that nest of hair, they couldn’t imagine, but somehow he actually caught an edge on her, turned a corner with more agility and speed than they thought possible.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

They took a risk, cutting through the underbrush, hoping it would help close the gap, but--

“Second place? Dank farrik, Kallus. I’ve got to hand it to you, you know your way around a speeder bike, old man.” They taunted with a sly upturn of the lip. “C’mon, first round’s on me.”

sacreficied​ // Kanan Jarrus

a huff of laughter pushed out of his nose and he nodded his head in agreement. no, something being hard had never discouraged them all from doing something –– it had only made them get a little more creative with how they had approached it. but he would give the others credit for that before himself, easily viewing them all as vastly superior to his own. he had his own strengths, that was just one that he saw being more advanced in the others.

“oh, absolutely,” kanan agreed with a deep chuckle escaping, giving a nod of his head as his arms folded across his broad chest. they would have all been lost without hera, not just him –– something that he was painfully aware of. “we’d all be lost without them.”

a beat passes, something heavier clearly laying on his mind from the crease between his brow. “if i had to choose between, i know the choice i’d make. i just hope i never have to make that choice.”

Their smile turned somber once again with his dire words of sacrifice and loss. He doesn’t have to tell her the choice he’d make because they’d already lived it. The aftermath of his decision to protect Hera, to protect all of the crew that Sabine called aliit--  it weighed on them both. Weighed on all of the Spectre crew, really, but it sat in between them in the here and now.

“Yeah, me, too.” The tone-shift was heavy and awkward to navigate, something she didn’t really want to adopt right now. With everything that had happened in the last few years, loss was always on the forefront of their mind-- often partnered with guilt. “Still, uh, we’ve always been lucky enough to have each other.” Almost always. “What’s on your mind, Kanan?”

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.