Generalspectre​ // Hera Syndulla

kryzeofmandalore​ // korkie kryze

   Having awoken on Mandalore, Korke wasn’t sure when he was, clearly time had passed as Mandalore had looked far worse than the last time he’d been there. Korkie wasted no time finding a ship that besides a few repairs was still flyable. Korkie now was planning on finding other Mandalorians, they would have to rebuild their world, and their people together. First things first, he had to find his Aunt Bo-Katan. She would know what to do. Much to Korkie’s relief many cantina workers did not want issues with someone in a full suit of Beskar and so were quick to give him the information he asked of them, although he imagined his being polite about his inquiries had added to to their compliance.  

Korkie had received word that there was a Mandalorian sighted at Coronet City on Corellia, and so Korkie quickly made his way there not wanting to lose the lead he now had. Arriving on the planet, it didn’t take long before Korkie finally found the Mandalorian he as looking for approaching them, he removed his helmet, smile on his face.  “It is so nice to finally see another Mandalorian, from what I understand we’ve become a rarer and rarer sight. I am Korkie Kryze of House Kryze, who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” 

@call-me-spectre-five​

Hesitation rolled over their skin like a wave of static. It was electric, the surprise. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned the day’s events to map themselves out, but it wasn’t by any means a negative. This newcomer seemed friendly enough, and there was something in his armor that she had seen before. The patterns, the linework, it was familiar. The hues were reminiscent of Bo-Katan Kryze’s followers. And at the admission of his name, the younger Mandalorian was granted some semblance of clarity. Following his gestures, she removed their helm, too, and offered an extended hand.

“Su cuy’gar! Forgive me, but...you’re Duchess Satine and Bo-Katan’s nephew, right? I think we’ve met before. I am Sabine of Clan Wren, House Vizsla.” A pregnant pause filled the air before they continued with a question long-anticipated (just one of many). It was one they’d held on to for years, waiting for the right pair of ears to receive. “Perhaps you knew my mother, Ursa?”

She hoped the figure before her harbored no ill will at her alliance shaped by birth. It’s not like there was much family left to be loyal to, anyways.

sacreficied​ // Kanan Jarrus

so much had happened over the course of their lives together as ghost crew that had been unpredictable, so many things to be grateful for –– and yet, nothing struck him quite the same as listening the others speak about the time that he was dead. kanan imagined that the other jedi he had spoken to must have felt in a similar way, the apprehension tightly wound with gratitude. he would not look at a gift like this with lack of appreciation, though there were things about it that he questioned.

“it’s easy to get caught up in the things that we’ve lost. you weren’t around for it, but you know that i did for years.” the circumstances had been different, but after sixty-six, he’d never stopped to appreciate that he was alive, that he still had his wits about him. it had taken time to appreciate hera, too. “i’m… i’m doing well. seeing the order restored has given me hope that i didn’t know i needed. for ezra, and for jacen. i know that there will be some who don’t approve or understand of… all of this,” he gestured loosely with his hand at nothing in particular, meaning ghost crew as a whole. “but even with the order’s stance on attachment, i think it makes me a better jedi.”

.

Silence weighed between them as Sabine listened to their friend’s admittance of his past actions. He’d never spent much time talking about what had happened before he found Hera, and she didn’t blame him. She didn’t respond to his words, but nodded, just taking time to listen. Years of petty arguments and bickering made it easy to forget how alike the two could be. 

“You know I don’t know much about the Jedi beyond what you and Ezra have shared with me--” she started, combing through words and phrases with caution. “But, it’s almost funny, right? I mean, the core beliefs of the mando’ade are all about family and connection. And the Jedi are supposed to distance themselves from that kind of emotion, right?”

They hesitated, offering a small, sad smile (though she knew he couldn’t see it). They bumped her boot against his, trying to keep the energy from sinking.

“It may be kinda unorthodox, but I think it works. I think we all make each other better...And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Rebuilding the Jedi and committing to the people you care about. Who care about you. Against our better judgement,” she teased. 

“Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer.“

Fingers itched to grasp the vibroblade at her waist, but paused. Of all of their interactions, this was the closest Sabine had come to an actual threat of violence. To hatred-- pure and unadulterated.

“Trust, Armitage, that when you join the silence of my ancestors, no one will mourn you, let alone notice your departure. Despite all your efforts to be remembered, no one will feel joy or pain or heartbreak, because no one will have cared enough about your life to waste the energy.”

Anger read cleanly across their face, cool and unwavering. Motionless.

“At least I have a family, even if they are ghosts. Can you really say the same?”

@generally-scheming

❛  can  i  come  with  you ?  ❜ ( from kallus )

Though the war was over, Sabine still found this base to be crowded on occasion; a hangar so close to the Core Worlds had its uses, after all. It was nice to see so many familiar faces, albeit a little overwhelming. But if they were going to leave for the mission, the time was now.

"You know I won't turn down that offer, Kallus." They passed his comlink back, frequency now in tune with the one at her hip. "Besides, I could always use the conversation. Hyperspace can be so boring, you know."

gcdlys​ // Ursa Wren

Sabine’s stillness slowed her slightly, gaze careful as she stopped a foot or so away from them. Clear shock, teary eyes, so much older - Ursa knew that the time she had missed must have held nothing good for her, for her family. A protective feeling rose up in her chest, fiercely defensive. Whatever had happened, she was here now. And she would not leave so quickly.

“Of course, ad’ika.” It was not an endearment she often used, reserved for when she thought her children needed most comfort. (And frankly, she had usually let Alrich handle the comforting. He was far better at it than she ever had been.) Her free hand flexed at her side, half reaching out to them and half reserved. “I’m alright, Sabine.”

It didn’t make sense. Mandalore, Krownest, they were in ruins. The only reason she hadn’t died in the Purge was because she’d been on the other end of the galaxy with another family. They’d long ago left hope for Clan Wren behind because it hurt too much. It hurt now, seeing the parent they’d given up on standing before her.

“Mom, I spent so much time running when I. I should have... I should have looked for you, and Dad, and Tristan’ika. I’m so sorry, I should have looked harder, should have--”

She couldn’t stop the words from tripping over their tongue, the tears from staining the careful paint of their mother’s armor as she accepted the outstretched arm, pulled themself into Ursa’s arms.

“D’you, er? Have you-- I mean.” A gasp of air between the tears, guilt consuming every fibre in her body.  “Have you found anyone else? Tristan, or Father?”

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?

cptfulcrum​ // alexsandr kallus

Kallus  has  long  since  known  that  the  Ghost  crew  had  forgiven  him  for  the  atrocities  he’s  committed.  Even  as  he  struggled  to  understand  how  or  why,  he  would  be  grateful  to  his  final  days  for  friends  such  as  them.  Sabine  would  understand  the  significance  of  this  in  a  way  that  no  one  else  tasked  would.  They  would  understand  the  research  that  had  gone  into  this,  the  inner  turmoil  while  he  had  struggled  with  the  Imperial  idea  of  his  body.  Years  later  and  it  haunted  him,  the  guidelines  beat  into  their  soldiers.  “  Thank  you.  “  he  said  simply,  nodding  his  head  as  he  put  his  personal  code  into  the  datapad.  Then  he  handed  it  off  to  them,  the  picture  simple  and  not  able  to  be  understood  to  someone  that  didn’t  know  him.  The  Fulcrum  Symbol  featured,  with  fauna  native  to  Lira  San  in  another  image.  Finally,  a  third  image  of  some  flowers  native  to  Lasan.  He’s  no  artist,  but  has  a  vision.  He  knows  Sabine  is  the  one  to  execute  that  for  him.  “  This  is  quite  personal  to  me.  I  want  a  tattoo.  “  it’s  to  the  point,  lacks  the  emotion  he  has  surrounding  the  whole  idea,  and  his  insecurities  about  how  Zeb  would  feel  about  the  whole  thing.  “  If  it’s  amenable  for  you,  I’d  prefer  you  to  help  me  with  this.  “  

The image drew a sharp inhale from the Mandalorian. The concept was striking, a symbol equal parts sharp and soft, a contrast of edges and curves. It was as though the picture itself was blooming before her eyes; she could already see the colors springing to life, filling the spaces between lines. They thought of the equipment that sat just inside her ship and the weeks since it had been used. It was a practice she was well-versed in-- but this time was different. It was so much more than ink and skin.

“Kallus, I...” But what words could she speak to answer a request so heavy? Sabine understood, of course they understood, what this meant to him. They could imagine the struggle he’d faced just to ask so much of her, the nights he must have wrestled with the regulations the Empire had imposed on him since boyhood. The tattoos she had were-- like so many other things-- an act of rebellion against them. And now it was his turn. Wordlessly, she nodded, holding his tired gaze with their own. Their grip on his hand tightened. 

“When do you want to do this? I can have a few digital drafts made up withing a few hours, but I won’t rush you. Take it on your own time, and I’ll follow you.”

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.”

gcdlys​ // Ursa Wren

“Sabine!” Ursa calls, pulling off her helmet as she strides forwards. Vizsla hadn’t lead her astray. Her daughter’s armor was unmistakable. She can’t stop the relief that creeps into her voice - part of her family is alive and well, her worst fears for now abated. Clan Wren survives. (More importantly, her daughter does, her firstborn baby, and Ursa’s more glad for that than words could say.) “It is…good to see you.” That can’t begin to describe it. Certain she’ll fail, she doesn’t bother to try.

For Sabine Wren! @call-me-spectre-five​

That voice is unmistakable. It’d been years since she heard its timbre and tone, years since their name rolled off the tongue so easily. From behind them is a shout, and with it is a tide of emotion Sabine hadn’t let themself feel for weeks at a time.

“Buir?”

Shock weighed her feet to the ground, unable to move except to drink in the figure before them. The hands that had taught her how to hold a blaster, had shown them how to forge the armor of their people. Eyes that had watched Sabine as they taught Tristan how to spar, (eyes that had cast judgement on her decision to leave). Shining beskar’gam, patterns so familiar it hurt. Here she was, Ursa Wren, but Sabine couldn’t bring themself to believe it. Still frozen in shock, the young Mandalorian felt tears well in her eyes as they looked upon their mother, back from the grave.

“Is it-- I...It’s really you?”

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   HEAVY  BOOTS  DIP  INTO  HOT  SAND,  and the suns remain relentless.   it bears down on metal,  as it bares down on all things,  but he pays no mind  ─  there are more haunted places to befall,  and here,  there is a bounty to be made.   confluence of calculation and muscle memory,  the hunt begins with relative ease.   a few questions,  a bribe,  and he moves onwards. kilometers pass by,  though he slows at the sight of a shared silhouette,  brows knitting beneath the shadow of his visor.   even if recent affairs allowed for crossed paths,  encountering vestiges of his home,  his culture,  his people,  remained a rarity.   curiosity surges through him when the closing distance clarifies the mandalorian.   their numbers are minuscule and yet he still finds surprise in their variation;  the other’s armor stands stark against the ecru,  painted iridescent by the desert.

the conclusion comes quickly:  they’re here for the same goal.   while both following the same cardinal direction is slim reason to assume such things,  this is barren land and the payment is hefty.   tatooine is filled with hungry hands.   people take what they can get.   hesitation cannot be found in his approach,  yet he stops the borrowed speeder a few meters short to keep distance ( he’s been mistaken before ).   lips press to a line as he dismounts,  bracing for the revelation of a separate sect he had never heard before.  ❝  i haven’t seen another of our kind around here. ❞

     ─   @call-me-spectre-five

The job was an easy one, something she had completed hundreds of times before. Track a target, acquire them, and turn them over for payment. It was a practice they were well-versed in; any time credits dipped below the price of food and fuel, they had no qualms taking bounty on some runaway criminal unlucky enough to warrant capture. It was a refreshing break from the excitement of the Rebellion, and a good excuse to brush up on her hand-to-hand combat. Not for the first time, they settled on a desert planet defined by little more than twin suns and endless wastes of sand.

Information was easy enough to obtain if you knew where to listen. Word passes quickly from tongue to tongue in a starving galaxy, so she wouldn’t be fazed if another had come to claim the score. What they were surprised about was the sight of another clad in the beskar of their people.

Kriff.

Her eyes widened behind painted metal at the sight of the stranger. It had been an...uncomfortably long time since they had seen another Mandalorian, and the figure admitted to just as much. There was a shared uncertainty between them, but that was more than fair. To be wary was to survive.

“Neither have I.”

Sabine extender her arm, vambraces forward, in anticipation of a returned handshake. Trust had to be carefully built and not just given away, after all.

“Su cuy’gar, vod. I am...glad to know our people still survive.”