Generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

“I prefer documentaries, actually,”  Hux replied through a faint sneer.  “The linear progression of history. Cause and effect laid out in rational sequence. No cheap gimmicks or red herrings.”  He punctuated his answer with a sip of wine to underscore his disdain for this entire conversation.   (Which was growing by the second, now that they had indicated they were too well-versed in these games of intrigue to hand him any more free intelligence.)

He scoffed openly at Wr— at Sabine’s choice of words. No one who had ever met Brendol Hux would call him dignified, not even his friends. Nor could she begin to imagine what it had been like to grow up in Brendol’s shadow, and Armitage had no intention of illuminating her.  “Oh, bereft, yet I might just be able to hold back my tears for love of the Empire.” 

He narrowed his eyes. They were toying with him, dragging out the exchange to watch him squirm. Her opening gambit had been a threat; that meant she would give him nothing unless he offered something more valuable than she believed her   (yet to be substantiated)   blackmail to be. He had to determine their price — continuing to play would only benefit them, not Hux. So he cut straight to the point.  “But you’re right. You are obviously not here to ask after my father’s good health, so what do you want?”

_

The admission almost brought a huff of laughter to pass their lips. Of course he would. Never one to have a little fun now and again. Sabine could tell by now that he was growing impatient (irritable? resentful? at any rate, he was even more tightly-wound than she could have hoped for). His attempt to cut past the foreplay of it all was almost impressive-- if it wasn’t solely for his own gain. He wouldn’t attempt to harm the Mandalorian yet, so long as they proved to be useful. And she had a feeling that the clock was ticking.

“You’d certainly be right on that front, general.” She examined the drink before cautioning another sip, attempting to hint at the contempt they both shared for the man. Ah, but he seemed unamused and unwilling to bait the hook. Perhaps that conversation would have to wait for another, more opportune time...

“Besides the sheer pleasure of drinking with you, I did have a question. Armitage, indulge me, would you? Does anyone else know about your sleeping arrangements with the holonet reporter Alton Kastle?”

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.

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

If nothing else, Hux had to credit the photographer for so clearly capturing a moment he did not remember himself. The walk from the gala to Alton’s yacht was extremely fuzzy, but he’d hoped that — even inebriated — he’d had the decorum to keep his kriffing hands to himself until they were out of sight. Yet that was unmistakably Armitage Hux in the image, pulling a man into a yacht by his necktie. And that man was unmistakably Alton Kastle with his hand on Hux’s ass.

Hux knew better than to reach for the datapad. That didn’t stop his fingers from twitching when they stowed it out of sight.   (She’d won this round.)   No one who saw that image would have any doubt of what happened on Alton’s yacht afterwards. He narrowed his eyes. Their gown wasn’t so sheer that he could count out hidden armor or weapons. With a gaze every bit as sharp as the dagger up his sleeve, his eyes traced the skin above their neckline for vulnerable arteries. But that was only fantasy — he was not so keen to die today that he would take on a Mandalorian in hand-to-hand combat without backup. Especially not after he’d read Sabine Wren’s file.

“Yet you brought your concerns to me first. How courteous.”  Hux knew as well as she did — she was ex-Imperial — that countless cutthroat officers would love to get their hands on any ammunition that could be used against him. Not to mention that connecting a New Republic reporter to a man who’d tortured Padme Amidala would kill Alton’s career.  “What is it you want from me that you could not get from them?”

_

His eyes turned upon the image, and they smirked at his shift in tone. Like a glacier breaking into the ocean, he grew ever colder with the passing seconds. No doubt he wanted to react with some measure of calculated anger or violence, but he kept his composure all the same. The Mandalorian had to admit, given the brevity of the situation, that it was almost impressive.

“Hey, I’m a nice person, Hux. You ought to know this by now.”

They sipped the wine he’d ordered, looking at him over the rim of the glass the whole time. She took a breath before responding, took the conversation on their own time.

“I want you to owe me a favor.” They exaggerated the words, left them with weight unseen. “I won’t come calling today, or tomorrow, but I will come calling. And when I do, I just want to know that you’re willing to help. Nothing difficult, nothing incriminating. Just good old-fashioned reciprocity, one friend to another.”

Sabine folded their hands together in the space between them, leaning forward and never wavering from his steely gaze.

“What do you say, general?”

chaotickylia​ // kylia horne

Kylia beams with a brilliant light. Happiness and warmth wrap around her body like a blanket in the cold. She’s filled with joy and she’s trying to remember the last time she had felt this way or this free, but she realizes that it doesn’t matter! She’s in the moment with her new friend and they seem to be rather comfortable with each other’s company and presence, and really, that was the moment that Kylia knew was important. “Thank you! Sabine is pretty too and so are you!” She draws a little in her vocals but she means every word of it. The rush if it was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Kylia tried to breathe it all in. She wanted her new friend to enjoy it too as they raced together, hands touching, a part of them connecting the other together. The feeling was still there. This lightness that starts from her toes and wafts all the way up to the tip of her head and she finds herself laughing with the other, a magical sensation and sound. At the words, Kylia looks up, once her feet stop moving and she sees the stars spinning with each other in time to the beat, finding herself leaning a little too far backwards, but not stopping as she falls to her back on the ground, laughing once again. “They look far more gorgeous from this angle! Look at them sway with each other, Sabine!”

.

Wow. It was like the stars were shining just for them, light seeping down into her bones. The pull of it was everything, a string tied from her chest to the sky, pulling them up, up, up! Oh, it was a tether, but it was also freeing! They watched their friend fall to the ground and mimicked the motion, laying beside her with a sort of breathless triumph. It was a few honey-sweet moments before they finally spoke a response into existence.

“It’s so...It’sss...like when the p-poets write about the galaxy as an ocean, or a...” the words escaped her tongue, and they knew they weren’t making sense, but there was some comfort in that. Not everything had to. “In my family, there’s a story about the stars, right? Th-the most noble mando’ade, the ones that have passed on, they still watch over us.” 

The thought made her sad, but not in a way that hurt. In a way that was reassuring, a reminder that they were feeling. That she was here.

“Er, Kylia. D’ya know what time it is? I gotta f-find a couple more people before the night is over. You can come with, if ya want, but ya don’t have to. You have somewhere safe to stay the night?”

BANITA  SANDHU  //  have you met  SABINE  WREN  yet?  SHE/THEY  is now a  30  year old  DEMIWOMAN  HUMAN.  they’re originally from  MANDALORE  but typically reside on  THEIR SHIP.  after everything they’ve gone through, she shows loyalty to  THE REBELLION.  they are best known for being a/an  WEAPONS MASTER,  and i hear they’re pretty  INVENTIVE  yet also  STUBBORN  at times; I hope they survive the galactic civil war. ( JO )

L O A D I N G  :  /  /  ...  8ABY  :  MONTH TWO  ...  /  /

a few months into 7aby, sabine started to regain communications with friends and family after isolating to deal with the aftermath and grief that her actions in the rebellion caused.

she attends the new republic fundraiser, where they become much too inebriated to think straight. ZEB ORRELIOS has to step in to make sure she doesn’t do anything too regrettable.

seeking answers, they travel to mandalore to try and reconcile some of the guilt she is feeling about its destruction. there, she finds legendary mand’alor TARRE VIZLA, and over time, the two become family close friends.

they meet up with ALEXSANDR KALLUS  and help him with a tattoo that carries its own significance for the ex-imperial.

sabine confronts ARMITAGE HUX about his affair with holonet reporter ALTON KASTLE, threatening to release an incriminating image that could spell trouble for his career as a general of the first order.

loathing the hapan people for their distasteful display of colonized mandalorian artifacts, sabine plans with THE GHOST CREW and a few other mandos to reclaim the weapons and armor at the gala.

instead, they are faced with destruction unparalleled, forced to work with ARMITAGE HUX until finding an unconscious and injured mandalorian (PAZ VIZSLA). without knowing his adherence to the creed, they remove his helm and drag him to safety, stabilizing his head injury for as much time as is available. they leave before he can wake, drawing enemy fire away from him and allowing him a chance of escape.

among the chaos, sabine finds HERA SYNDULLA, and the two work together to escape with chopper and the ghost.

after recovering from the injuries hapes caused her, sabine and ZEB ORRELIOS move to aid lothal in wake of the attack on the planet’s communications systems.

 original intro 

❛ can i come with you ? ❜ from din

Sabine enjoys this friend’s company as much she enjoys spending time with any of the Spectres (as much as she had enjoyed spending time with Tristan and Ezra). To hear him ask for her companionship with such gentility...The question brought a grin to their unmasked face.

“Of course. The more the merrier.”

beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

“I know of her. I never met her though. From what I knew, she was an admirable woman.” Jango said, though he was pretty sure she had been aligned with Death Watch.

He hummed and smiled a little “I came across the Mando’ade who had it, he didn’t want it. Which was odd, he certainly had everything needed to be a good Mand’alor.” Jango said, shaking his head a little.

“I held the title once, when I was barely an adult. Shame kept me from coming back and taking it back up. But this…second chance I’ve been given, it was high time I reclaimed it.” He said. He didn’t know how much history Sabine knew, or if the Haat Mando’ade was even mentioned in their history with Death Watch and the New Mandalorian’s victories.

_

They nodded slowly, taking in the response with sobriety. So, he didn’t know her buir, or where she was. Maybe it was for the better, considering his distaste for Death Watch. Then again, Sabine would take any information they could get...

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I had that chance when I was younger, too. But I knew it didn’t belong with me. Maybe he felt the same way.”

The next part of the story, she knew parts of, gleaned from the information they’d heard in their youth, coupled with stories of war from the few mandos and clones left alive to remember.

“Yes, I know a little about that. I admit, I’m surprised to see both you and the saber here in this place and time. It’s been a tumultuous few years since I saw it last...Glad to know it rests in the hands of our people still,” they replied, mulling on the mixed feelings welling in her gut.

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.

@beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   GAZES  BEAR  DOWN  UPON  THE  PAIR,  and he wonders exactly how much better he would fare in his old,  heavily worn armor.   perhaps the attention wouldn’t have lessened with such an acquaintance at his side,  but here the unmarked chrome reflectes her colors in such a way,  it makes them a most obvious pair.  the stressor is felt on both fronts,  kept secret between the two as rolling anxiety feeds from each other in a cycle.   they move closely  ─  but not too close,  rendering a strange pack formation where there’s equal safety and danger in their numbers.   one protecting the other. 

the ‘t’ of his visor is kept leveled,  knowing that an air of aloofness and the history behind tinted transparisteel deterred stares.   ❝  a little bit.  ❞   the words are coupled with one shoulder’s shrug.   this was a place he only passed through,  leaving just a brief sighting for children to whisper amongst each other.   yet one sweep through the village is enough to know that there’s little for the agent to hide in;  an odd choice for someone of moderate renown.

canting their head to the side,  they lead them to a couple vendors with pre-empire scraps to sell.   with a step forward they flick through dialects until common ground is found,  evident in how the seller lilts her head in recognition and leans forward.   between them a few probing questions flitter, a few credits discreetly traded  ( he scowls to himself for how little he can bribe with ),  until he finally turns to his kind with a breath.   ❝  there’s some rumor of a mechanic shop acting as a front,  toward the south.  ❞  plenty of supplies for makeshift weapons,  maybe some workers in on their dealings,  or it could be just that:  a rumor.   thoughts the other were filtering through too,  no doubt.   ❝  think it’s a lead ?  ❞

“I think it’s worth checking out before we run out of sunslight.” Or before someone tips off the bounty, they thought to themself. She could tell the other was thinking it, too. This kind of risk always posed itself, the concern of some low-life selling out someone they knew then warning them of impending capture. It had happened with the Ghost crew more than once, with friends and enemies alike. 

The walk carried a weight of silence. There was no hum of twin engines to separate them anymore, no rushing terrain to interrupt their stillness. It settled itself neatly over the pair (something Sabine suspected the other Mandalorian was quite used to). She could be, too, when the time arose. But, it was always easier for them to fill the void of quiet with sound. A song or a conversation soothed their nerves more than the absence of ever could. 

“Your beskar’gam and spear are...quite striking. For all the years it’s been since I re-forged my armor, there’s been little time it hasn’t seen color. Some days I could almost forget the grooves of pure metal. Mesh’la.” 

They put the comment out there, open for commentary, or just to be held by the two. If this warrior wanted to speak, the invitation was there. If not, that was just as well. Her companion seemed the type to enjoy silence, so their nonresponse would be just as accepted as conversation. Besides, the two were nearing the workshop, which now stood visible on the horizon through a shimmer of heat.

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.”