BANITA  SANDHU  //  Have You Met  SABINE  WREN  Yet?  SHE/THEY  is Now A  30  Year Old  DEMIWOMAN 

@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.

sacreficied​ // Kanan Jarrus

“thank the force for that,” kanan agreed with an easy smile. it was overwhelming, the kind of pride that jacen brought him. it was also difficult to balance his drive and desire to protect both him and hera along with his commitment to the force, the rebuilding jedi order. it was a precarious balance, one that he was hesitant to speak to any of the older, more experienced masters about. ahsoka would understand, he was certain of that much, but she was not the only approval that he would have liked to have.

a deep breath pulled in through his nose, nodding his head. “it’s good to be back. i never thought i’d live to see a day like this. i mean, i guess i didn’t, but…” beyond his own sacrifice, the beginning of a new republic and new jedi order was monumental. “we’re lucky nonetheless.”

.

Two stood in quite repose as she listened to Kanan’s words soft-spoken. They nodded at his notion of gratitude. A few years ago, there was no way she could have hoped for any of this. There was a time when the pain felt like it would never subside, and it had driven them away from the people that cared about her most. 

“We are. When I-- when we lost you, Kanan, and then Ezra...well, everyone took it pretty hard. Then when the Empire came for Mandalore? Fuck, I thought I’d lost everything. I lost sight of the fact that I still had Hera, Zeb, Kallus, Jacen, and Chopper. And now,” they sighed, uncomfortable with the wellspring of emotions in her chest. “You’re here. Ezra’s here. And that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

She settled back into silence, realizing that this was a lot to put on him. That wasn’t the intent, and they hoped Kanan knew he didn’t have to carry her grief and guilt.

“But, uh. That’s enough about me. How are you holding up?”

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Kallus  wouldn’t  pull  his  own  weapon  on  them,  just  a  small  blaster,  something  that  he  felt  more  comforted  when  he  had  on  his  hip.  Just  another  Imperial  regulation  that  he  had  never  quite  slipped  out  of.  He  didn’t  carry  on  Lira  San.  But  now  that  he  had  slowly  been  working  outside  of  the  planet,  he  felt  the  need  to.  Especially  now  that  he  had  actively  started  tracking  Grand  Admiral  Thrawn.  But  he  knew  the  Mandalorian  understood  the  need  for  a  weapon.  He  watched  closely,  waiting  for  a  moment  where  Sabine’s  dominant  arm  would  aim  to  fire.  Thankfully,  it  never  happened.  His  shoulders  relaxed  slightly,  though  their  question  had  him  pause.  

His  own  justification  was  that  Zeb  was  worried  about  Sabine  but  trusted  her  too  much  to  actually  do  anything  about  his  worry.  He  didn’t  want  to  admit  that  he  was  worried  too,  worried  about  all  of  the  Spectres.  The  loss  of  Ezra  had  hit  them  all  hard,  just  after  getting  him  back.  “  Like  I  said,  we  were  concerned.  “  he  replied,  stepping  closer  now  that  their  weapon  was  holstered.  “  I  was  in  the  area.  Zeb  was  not.  “  the  area  was  a  very  vague  statement,  vague  enough  that  he  didn’t  have  to  explain  that  he  wasn’t  on  Lira  San  and  that’s  why  it  was  easier  for  him  than  her  fellow  Spectre.  “  I  thought  it  would  assuage  his  worries  if  he  knew  I  saw  you.  “  it  would  lessen  his  own,  certainly.  

Sabine  could,  without  a  doubt,  take  care  of  any  situation  that  arrived.  But  this  wasn’t  something  able  to  be  handled.  It  was  the  death  of  someone  very  close  to  them  all.  It  wasn’t  as  simple  as  planting  a  bomb  or  shooting  a  blaster.  He  wished  it  was.  “  You  should  come  visit.  I  know  Zeb  misses  you.  “  

She stood still, rooted to the spot by the mention of her friend’s name. It was a punch to the gut, an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Sabine had left Zeb (and so many others) in the dark for weeks, months now. They didn’t mean to cause any pain. She just needed time, distance away from everyone. It had always been easier to figure things out alone.

When situations started to tense and sour at home, Sabine had joined the Imperial Academy. When she realized just what they were using her for, they had defected into the Rebellion. Even after the Ghost crew had given them a home, a real family, she had left. And, here she was, running again.

At last they shifted their weight uneasily, heavy with guilt and shame.

“Thank you. I-I should have reached out sooner, I just...” needed to do this on my own, she wanted to say. But instead, they let the words hang in the air, taking up the uneasy space between the two. 

“I’m fine, Kallus. I appreciate you coming out here and all, but really, I’m good.” She stepped forward, stance relaxed now that they knew they were in the presence of a friend, not an enemy. Instead of expressing the emotions gnawing at her inside, they attempted to make light of the conversation.

“What are you and Zeb up to these days, anyways?”

@cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

even if she no longer felt any kind of loyalty to the empire, or any dependency on the dark side of the force like she had for so long, it would have been a foolish mistake to label trilla as a nice, friendly person. there was still empathy that blossomed inside of her chest, a desire to help people that she did not like to admit existed, but she was all rough edges on the exterior, intense stares and snappy comments that weren’t necessarily underlain with some kind of care. many pieces of who she had been in the past had been recovered in the last two years of isolation and healing, but there were some aspects of her people skills that still needed work.

navigating their way back to the city is no particular challenge for her. although trilla was not particularly familiar with the area, her senses were especially sharp with the use of the living force around her, sensing problems long before they could arise and correcting appropriately. there’s not much of a nicer place to stop in front of, given where they were. but it was water and food, and a chance for the other to get some assistance better for their own long-term goals.

“no.” it wasn’t an interesting answer by any means as trilla stepped inside of the cantina, glancing back to make sure that they were still following. “i don’t like crowds,” she offered as some half-assed explanation, the truth infinitely more complicated than anything that she was willing to explain to a stranger. but despite the lack of interest that she’d displayed before, she did have some questions for them, waiting until they had seated in an otherwise empty corner. “so what’s someone with armor like that doing stuck in the middle of nowhere?” she knew their reputation, at least. “bounty gone wrong?”

At the mention of their armor, she froze. Once content to explain the significance of the metal, the pride that came with bearing its weight, Sabine now bit the inside of their cheek. After...after everything that had happened to Mandalore, the only strangers that asked questions were the ones who saw the metal she bore as a prize, a husk to be shucked and taken as spoils of war. So often these people thought her disposable, some sick challenge to defeat in order to stake their claim to the only piece of her family she had left. It was a move more than one piece of bantha shit had tried to pull on them before. Trilla didn’t seem like a person with ill intentions; they appeared to be a fatigued traveler, just as herself. But the Mandalorian had been wrong before, and the price for this kind of misjudgment was not forgiving.

“Something like that, yeah.” They exhaled thickly, glancing now across the restaurant, scanning for threats. For escape routes. Their breathing quickened as she remembered all of the times she’d been trapped in places like this. Was it safe here? Was someone after them? Who was this person at the table in front of her, to offer their help and accept no thanks? Muscles tensed, and Sabine forced their breathing to slow down. 

Think, chakaar. You can’t keep yourself safe if you’re not calm. The Empire isn’t here. Just talk.

“I came here on the good word of a friend, looking for information. But, all I got was a busted speeder bike and a waste of my ship’s fuel.” A hush fell as Sabine thought of the lightsaber hilt, lying in wait on Trilla’s waist. Flashbacks of the scarlet blades, of eyes filled with hatred and hearts without mercy. Being hunted ruthlessly as a child, guilty by association. Being hunted now. Fingers drummed anxiously on the table. Surely the person in front of her couldn’t be-- If they’d wanted to kill her, they would have done it by now.

“What about you? Can I ask how you found yourself in this backwater system?”

generally-scheming​ // armitage hux

@call-me-spectre-five  //  re: Sabine Wren; continued from here

Hux’s shoulders stiffened as this rebel scum had the audacity to touch his collar. The monomolecular dagger up his sleeve would already be at her throat if she had not managed to corner him at a public bistro. Hux hoped their presence would be enough to scare off the former Imperial contact he’d arranged to meet here.   (For business purposes!)   He was weighing the risk of stabbing them anyway when their comment about the holonet reporter put ice in his veins.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Hux said out loud.   (kriff, kriff, kriff)   (how could she possibly have found out about his arrangement with Kastle?)   (kriff)  

.

Oh, his fury was intoxicating. Little did Sabine have the chance to play this role, the swaggering informant who knew just enough to vie for leverage. Something about his uptight manner and defensive pettiness intrigued them. The anger was visible, a red nearly as bright as his delicately coiffed hair. She knew the tight-lipped tension of ranking Imperials. Knew the way their fingers curled around communicators and blasters. They could place the stiffening of a spine, the twitch of a lip. More importantly, they knew how to make those soldiers tick.

“Come now, Hux, don’t play hard to get. I thought we knew each other better than that. You still owe me that date, or don’t you remember?”

It was with ease that she sat at the place set for another, sheer fabric of the evening gown almost exposing the stealth armor and vibroblades hidden beneath. Almost. They turned to the server nearest, pushing the unused menu card to the side.

“Something light and sweet for my friend and I, please?” As they nodded and dutifully walked away, she turned attention back to the general they’d so long sought more information about. “Armitage, please, join me for a drink, won’t you? It seems we have plenty to talk about.”

warscore​ // bo-katan kryze

the figure that stood before bo was familiar, although she had not seen her in many years. she didn’t look much like her mother, that was certain, with dyed hair and brightly-colored armor, where ursa had prefered much simpler things in both regards. it felt as if bo was supposed to know them, as if they had met before, almost, with the other mandalorian’s expression. and they had met, of course, but the confident adult who stood before them had been a child then, not old enough to hold a blaster or fight. but here sabine was, fully grown and with tales of battle and rebellion that preceded her - from satine, from the rebellion, from most who had met them. 

“sabine wren.” she greeted, pulling off her helmet in one fluid motion, a faint smile accompanying the greeting. “it’s been a while.”

.

This wasn’t the Bo that Sabine knew. Something in her countenance was different. She moved with less hesitancy, spoke with a tone lighter and less burdened by war. Their armor was cleaner, paint fresher. This Bo was young. Even younger than her, maybe. 

“Bo-Katan.” They flashed a hesitant grin, unease filling their stomach. What time were they from? What did they remember about Sabine, about Mandalore? Did she know about the Purge? Who else had she found in this new time? “Yeah, it sure has. Su cuy’gar, burc’ya. Glad to see you again.” 

Their words were a little forced, emotions on edge. In another time, they were friends, and Sabine knew where Bo stood on some more important matters of politics and religion. But this older younger Bo, Sabine didn’t know. Did she? Still, they extended an arm in the customary greeting.

“When are you coming from, Bo?”

@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?”

Holonet Interview

     “What is your full name (middle name included)? Does it have meaning from your home planet?”

“Sabine Wren is my given name. Sabine is an ancient family name, tracing back to some great-great-grand-something ancestor that helped defend their clan from a mythosaur attack, as the legends go. And Wren because it’s my clan’s surname.” They paused, considering. “I don’t have a middle name. In my clan, we grow into those, kind of like nicknames. I-- I. Well, I didn’t get to that point with my family.”

     “Have you committed any crimes? How many, and what were the reasons behind some?”

“Ha!” They chuckled  from beneath the painted visor. “Have I committed any crimes? Believe it or not, I was in one of the first Rebel cells to fight back against the Empire. Phoenix Squadron caused any kind of trouble you can imagine. Larceny, arson, smuggling, and my personal favorite: destruction of Imperial property. It’s really an art form, if you ask me.”

     “Describe your hands (dirt under the nails, weather-worn, etc.).”

“Well, they’re just about what you’d expect from a Mandalorian. And a mechanic, at that.” She pulled off the leather gloves coated in a film of dust and oil. “See here? That scar’s from a probe droid that exploded a little too close for my comfort. Actually, I think there might still be a bit of shrapnel in there somewhere. But, yeah, cracked and scarred. Still good to repair a droid or fire a blaster, though.”

     “Would you run or fight in a battle? What are the causes?”

“Oh, fight, of course. My people aren’t well-known for running, are we? I try not to take life when I don’t have to, but if it’s between that and the slavery and oppression of a corrupt bureaucracy like the Empire? Fight, no question.”

     “What did your childhood home look like? Have you gone back as an adult?”

“Depends on which one you mean. I was raised on both Mandalore and Krownest, though I’ve only visited one in adulthood. After the Empire slaughtered my people...well, needless to say, I haven’t ventured back to Mandalore. And it’s been years since I’ve last seen the ice plains of Krownest. I’m not particularly eager to visit either any time soon.”

She shook their helm wearily, feeling uneasy about this entire interaction. 

@spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“I am cool,” Zeb snapped. “You know what’s not cool? Karking up your guts before it’s even hit kriffing midnight because you don’t know how to hold your liquor.” Karabast, he’s going to have to set a good example, isn’t he. With once last wistful glance at the mutlicolored and very potent-looking drink in their hand, Zeb slid it down the bar to the person on their other side and grumbled, “Knock yourself out, mate. You! Barkeep! Two waters, now.” Zeb’s gruff edge lingered as he turned back to Sabine. “Now hydration, that’s cool. You want to actually enjoy your drinks? Then pace yourself.”

Oh, for the love of Alderaan. ‘Hydration, that’s cool’ ?  Zeb had never felt so old in their kriffing life. But that’s what Sabine needed right now. Guilt twisted his stomach as they stumbled against him. Hadn’t Zeb’s lousy excuse for a parallel-timeline counterpart bothered to teach her to drink properly? Zeb set a steadying hand on Sabine’s shoulder, even as their last comment provoked a growl. “And for the last time, Kallus is not my boyfriend. ‘Sides, he’s in no state to be looking after anybody right now.”

“I w-would hold my liquor fine! If you would give it back to me!” They yelped as he pawed her reaching hand away. (Heh. Pawed). They shot the bartender a nasty glare and tried standing on her own. Feet felt like lead and head too thin, and the metal of the counter dug into their skin. 

“Zebbbbb, don’t you think I deserve a drink after the shit year I’ve had?! W-why not! Why not get fuck-king shitfaced?” She huffed. This had to be a joke. First all of the-- the shit! The shit with Ezra and Kanan and Mandalore, and-- and it hurt! It hurt and it was scary and it made her hands shake and her chest tight and!  And they just wanted it to mute, just for a moment! Moisture pooled at their eyes as Zeb spoke, as they responded. At his words, her face fell immediately, turning from anger and fear to...to something that ached deeper. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

“Wh-what do you mean he isn’t your boyfriend? Did. Did something happen?”

@cravked​ // trilla suduri

an eyebrow arched at the other’s clarification about the biker situation. it only made her wonder all the more how she had managed to get herself stuck out here with it again, but she supposed that if she didn’t have any other options, it made sense. trilla had gone from everything that she could have ever needed with the resources of the empire to fending almost entirely by herself. at least then, there hadn’t been so much of a need for technology or transport. sometimes, living like that really didn’t seem so bad. at least it had been easy, even if she had been somewhat crippled with loneliness.

a cough erupted from her lips as the bike burst out with some smoke, waving it away from their face. “get a better transport, perhaps,” she remarked dryly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she straightened up and wiped some off the dirt off her hands and onto her dark pants.

“where are you trying to go?” trilla questioned, gaze shifting back toward the human. they examined her armor closer for just a moment, refraining from commenting on it just yet. she was very familiar with what it was, even if the paint job was not what she would have considered predictable. “i might be able to help get you there. or at least get you to someone with the right parts to fix it.” 

Sabine let out a sigh of frustration then wiped their brow with the back of their hand. They never should have come all the way out to this desolate planet. They had been chasing one dead lead after another for weeks now, and she didn’t understand why she thought this one would be any different. All it got them was a busted bike and a raging headache. She hastily stuffed the tools into their pack, then pulled out a datapad, sitting on an outcropping of rock while typing. 

“Ya know, I sure would have gotten a better transport if there had been one available.” 

She grimaced as the screen displayed a glowing map, showing their destination at about 200 klicks northwest from their current location.

“I need to get here,” they said, while pointing at the outpost on the tablet. “I knew it would be too far a ride for this junker. I don’t know why I even bothered with this damned planet...” She muttered, then looked up at Trilla, just now processing the offer she had been given. “You would help me? But you don’t even know me. What if I’m some kind of...assassin or something?”