@cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

@swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

sabine was a lot of things, that much had been immediately certain upon meeting them –– he liked that kind of person, really, even if they weren’t so precisely aligned with his motives, like they had been at the time. but the way that she stuttered over her words, struggled to get through a sentence, that didn’t seem like her. so the little mandalorian wasn’t the best at holding her alcohol. that was cute, in the kid kind of way.

“i do like to gamble,” he clapped them on the back. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say that you’ve already been gambling with something. or is that just the alcohol?” he grinned, his smile all friendly teeth. he took the pastry from her without hesitation, taking a bite out of it. “alright, your turn. why don’t you go for… this one?” he picked up one of the purple cupcakes on the table, handing it to them.

A hearty slap on her back, and she nearly choked on the drink they were holding. They hid the growing smile behind her hand as giggles racked their way up her throat. Maybe this scoundrel wasn’t so...scoundrel-ey after all! Force, the music was so loud in their ears! She bobbed up and down on their feet, body pulsing with the rhythm of the performers. Is this what f r e e dom felt like? Hell, not even the Empire could catch up to them now! Her friend’s face was blurry when they turned to face him, almost everything moving too slowly. With a snort, she mouthed a laugh, but no sound came out. Well, none she heard.

“Wha-what you don’t get,” they hiccuped, then reached haphazardly for the dessert they were extending so temptingly towards her. 

“Is that I don’t gamble, Lando” She stressed the last syllable, almost as if singing a song. “I win!”

It wasn’t true, but they didn’t need to worry about that just right now. Ignoring it was just too much fun.

The sight of the planet ran cold in her blood. For a moment, as the ship dropped from hyperspace, all they could see was Mandalore. The ash, the scars of a scorched planet. Streets overrun with fire, buildings reduced to ash. It was all too familiar. Guilt surged in their blood like it had done then, her breath caught in panic and fear. Without thinking, Sabine clutched onto Zeb, their fur thick underneath her touch. 

“It’s so much worse than I thought.”

If the Mandalorian had held any doubt that Lothal needed their help, it was gone now. There was a half-glance shared, and a moment of understanding passed between the two. There was work to be done, and no time to hesitate.

“Where do we even begin?”

@spectreoflasan​ 

xspectre-1​ // kanan jarrus

it had taken kanan years to get here. to feel this comfortable with his emotions… with others. having children had never been the plan, even when sabine and ezra had joined. kanan had insisted they wouldn’t matter– they would be a crew, that was it. 

oh how wrong he had been. 

the family the six had created… it was the reason for their success. for their strength. 

but watching them grow– seeing them now. he couldn’t have guessed how it would have made him feel. how proud he had become. 

kanan smiled a bit, a small chuckle on the edge of his lips. they had always been okay in the end, hadn’t they? perhaps their collective number of loses keeping them from… much. 

but as sabine continued, the small smile fell, perhaps sad to divert so quickly. to face reality. what he had missed– what he had caused even. 

not that the words were expected. 

“what- no, i mean. no more than anyone,” he continued, hands returning to them, worried they might slip away. “i mean, that’s what the rebellion is, isn’t it?”

.

Seeing his smile again...it was like a sunbath after a year of winters, a remnant from a time when her family-- not just one, but both-- had been whole. Years ago, they couldn’t have considered this a possibility. Couldn’t have imagined she’d be standing here on the shining plains of Lothal (a place that held so much shared history for the Spectres). Yet, there she was: in the arms of their parent, now returned to them at last. It was a gentle reminder: in the here and now, the Mandalorian was truly safe. And that was enough.

They almost had to concede a chuckle at his disbelief. She’d seen him perform feats they’d never be able to dream of, had seen him walk through blaster fire alone and blind-- yet return home unscathed. And still he tried to play humble.

“I know it’s hard to believe, right? Who would have thought a knucklehead like you could ever be a war hero?”

She looked up at the mask that adorned his face, the eyes of the jai’galaar still in tact. It had been years since they had painted them on, but for him, it was only a matter of weeks. Months, maybe. Despite the time, she remembered well enough. Those first few nights after Malachor, in the cabin of the Ghost (when words were seldom spoken, but the pain and grief were a shared). Shared by those that loved each other most--

“Dank farrik, Kanan! Have you met with anyone else? Zeb, Hera?”

Therein was hidden the silent question only she knew was being asked of him: did Kanan know about Jacen? Did he know he was a father not only by bond, but also by blood? By the Ka’ra, he needed to know they were safe. He needed to see them healthy, and alive. 

@lcstpadawan​ // Cal Kestis

mini plot starter for @call-me-spectre-five -

okay, so this isn’t ideal. it actually really kind of sucks, if cal’s honest. but - but, okay, he’s definitely faced worse. he can definitely deal with this. he’d spent years working through scrap piles and ruined ships and managed to find something useful, he can do it again. besides, he did all that without bd1 - he’s got the droid’s company and help now. they should be fine.

“hey - are you good with mechanics?” he asks vaguely as he kneels down at a heap of scrap from their now blown up ship, glancing over at his company. he knows bits and pieces about mandalorians, knows they love their weapons but he’s not sure how used to working with scrap and ruined equipment they are. hopefully if he can find enough stuff for them to work with, the two of them will be able to make something decent out of it. “i mean - i’m not half-bad, and this little guy here is a genius, but i’m pretty sure we’re gonna have to get.. kind of creative to get out of this.”

Fuck, it never got old. The running and hiding, the ducking from shrapnel and gritting teeth through the ringing in your ears. Sabine’s partner on this mission was more calm than she felt, spoke with more clarity than they ever could. How could he hold his breath more steady? Shit, they had seen explosions, had caused them for years, but it was something else entirely to be the victim of one. Something else that made her hands taut, made their armor feel heavier on the chest. No ship. No way to tell for sure who the enemies here were. And no backup. 

It’s okay, Sabine. You can handle this. You’ve dealt with worse odds before.

There was a task at hand, an investigation to pursue, and that was something to focus on. Something to control. Steady the breathing. Feel the tips of your fingers, count the scratches on your armor. Smile (even if it doesn’t feel quite right), and let it drip into your voice, another mask behind the visor.

“Creative? I can do creative.”

And with that, they got to work. The two pulled from scraps and fragments of ruined engines and broken motivators, making light their labor. Sabine could specialize in mechanics when they felt like it, but damn did this guy and his droid understand how to work with the least. It was impressive. 

“Osi’kyr! Cal, look at this. I think I found something.”

The landing at this hangar was a surprise to Sabine, believe it or not. Her little transport ship was having so many complications lately-- and they had had little time to repair the systemic issues that caused much of the damage. All she had been able to do lately was touch-ups, quick solutions to deep-rooted issues in the internal schematics. After one hyperdrive malfunction too many, they had decided to dock somewhere more permanent than the last few systems they had visited. She needed a place to stay and to work for a few days. They needed parts, and maybe a helping hand or two. In truth, she hadn’t expected to reunite with an old friend, but it wasn’t surprising. This was a place for pilots and mechanics to frequent, after all. 

“Zay! I didn’t expect to see you here! The Starbird needed repairs, and I thought, where better than a Rebel hangar to get the job done?” They took her friend’s hand and squeezed it once, quickly, hoping to convey support for the other pilot. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

closed starter | @call-me-spectre-five​

The day went on without Zay noticing. She had been busy tinkering on her ship, something she liked to do when she was nervous. And nervous, she was a lot. The shadow of the Corvus was all around the hangar bay for her, she couldn’t spent a second without knowing it was right there. In another life, Zay could have just walked in, get a hug. Eat her meals inside. Except that she couldn’t and had to lie to almost everyone she talked to. Zay shook her head, taking time to look around. She listened to the hangar’s familiar noise for a while, before noticing a just as familiar silhouette walking around. A smile on her face, Zay gave up her tinkering and almost ran to catch up with her friend. “Sabine!” she called. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

l  closed starter  l  @versios

It had been a few weeks since Sabine talked with the commander, and they were starting to grow anxious. It had taken longer than usual to hear news lately (the ship’s subspace transceiver had been fidgety, especially in the Outer Rim), but she had finally found out about the tragedy at Hosk Station. They had frequented it during their travels and couldn’t imagine the toll it took, the millions of lives lost.They felt the need to help in whatever way the Rebellion would have her, and Commander Versio was one of the leaders she felt most connected with. Of course, they were not very communicative with anyone anymore, but this woman seemed to share similar experiences with the Empire and Rebellion as themself. It seemed that she had an outlook very similar to her own, and Sabine really did appreciate that. 

It was a quick message they sent, just a little holo-recording taken while in mid-flight. A short update about the course of events over the last few rotations, as well as a request near the end of the transmission.

“...Commander, if there is any way to aid the Rebellion at this time, I will be prepared to answer at your call.”

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?”

“That’s because he inherited Hera’s good sense,” they joked, with a gentle nudge at his ribs. She could tell there was a lot on his mind, but there was no need to pry. Their language had always been one of silence, of emotions unspoken. It was...well, they were beyond grateful to have him back. Sure, she was older and (hopefully) wiser than the last time they’d met, but it was still him. Still Kanan. They’d done nothing to deserve their family back, but goddamn if she was going to let anything happen to them again.

“Ka’ra, it’s good to have you back. I was starting to miss making fun of you. Even if I can’t exactly call you an old man anymore.” The flash of a smile, marked only with a small caliber of sadness. It was a gift to see him again, but something still stung with a phantom of guilt.

@call-me-spectre-five​   //   sabine wren.

“jacen seems to be rather fond of you.” there was a warmth to his tone, even if his expression was somewhat contained. most of the results of the emperor’s rift would have been overwhelming to the average person, and it was to him, despite that he had been able to swallow much of it while maintaining his dignity. fatherhood, the restoration of the jedi order, what had happened to ezra… he was trying to follow his master’s teachings, controlling his emotions so that they did not control him. “you’ve been a good influence for him.”

cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

there are several things on display, and trilla had to admit, she wasn’t sure if she was disturbed or impressed by the amount of gall that the hapans must have possessed to put some of these things on display. as they observed what was held out, an eye was also placed on those around, mildly surprised to see a familiar face casing the room. hm. they watched sabine briefly before deciding to approach. “does all this seem a little crass to you too?”

.

It had taken more than the Ghost Crew’s fair share of advice to calm her temper upon hearing how the few remnants of her people had been stolen and put on gross display as some twisted show of colonization. But, now? Standing here? Sabine nearly felt sick to their stomach, looking at the skeletal remains of another warrior, their armor and weapons hung up by those who benefitted from Mandalore’s destruction. So lost in their fury did she hardly notice the figure that spoke into the silence, their tone easily recognizable.

“It’s apalling.” Sabine seethed, nails digging into the skin on her palms. Despite their anger, her tone remained the same, a slow drip of cold emanating outwards in every direction. “These relics, they don’t belong behind glass cases and locked doors. They belong in the hands of my people.” And they would be, soon. If Sabine could do nothing else, they’d see this done. “Sorry, Trilla. I’m not trying to direct my feelings about this onto you.”

@pilotheart​ // Zay Versio

This conversation wasn’t something Zay was going to get used to. It was hard for her to keep control of her emotions as Sabine spoke, trying not to smile because of how happy she was — or because, to be honest, the Mandalorian was funny when drunk. She really wished she had a recording device to keep all that stutter with her. And that dancing. At least they both looked stupid. Zay was just as uptight as her mother, and her not knowing how to dance, or just let go, was a direct side effect of it. Others might tell don’t overthink in that kind of moments, but that wasn’t something Zay was able to do right now. “I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile, already a million questions planned. It could wait, though. Zay decided to keep her mouth shut when Sabine talked about their dancing — she’d rather just nod than comment and hurt them. Because if they were actually conscious of what they just told her, Zay needed to tell them the truth. It was going to hurt. And she didn’t want Sabine to get hurt by anything, ever, especially not by her. “You better be really sure about that because I like you, too,” Zay blurted out, not really believing that these words came out so easily. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” She was sorry about plenty other things, though. But happy Sabine knew at least that now.

Something lept in the pit of the Mandalorian’s gut (and for once it wasn’t the liquor). Manda, Zay liked them back? The confirmation made her want to climb the banisters, to shout from the roof until her throat went sore! They wanted to leap, to-- they didn’t know! Who needed the high when she had her friend’s hand in their own? Had the confirmation that I like you too?!

“Hey.” Sabine sobered as much as she could, just for a moment. They squeezed their friend’s hand once, a pulse they hoped could convey what words could not. “I promise, Zay. I won’t lie to you. I may be. A lot of things--” A soldier. An artist. A killer. A criminal. “--but I won’t lie to you.” 

Then, Sabine did something they never could have imagined they’d have the nerve to do. Sure, it might have been the drink or the drug, but it was also something else entirely, a new electricity brimming from toes to fingertips. In the middle of that crowd, amid the flickering light and the swell of the music, Sabine leaned forward and planted a small kiss on Zay’s cheek, then brushed her hair back so her eyes could shine more clearly in the waning light. They let go of her hand, then stepped back a half pace.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”