“It’s Got A Wonderful Attack Mechanism.”

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

although upon previous encounters, it had been lando’s instinct to continue to treat her like the young teen that he had initially met them as, he was aware on some level now that sabine was an adult. it was enough to prevent him from dissuading her from engaging in some of the more adult-like activities of the evening. if anything, it just happened to make it more amusing.

“well, about time you recognize me as your friend,” he remarked with a chuckle, throwing his arm around her shoulders with a squeeze. “you could pass on that attitude to some of your friends, you know,” he grinned.

“i can think of a few. the one that will be the most fun will require at least a few more companions and a deck of cards. think you could gather up some people?”

Oya, that reply was so stupid! Obviously, he was her friend! Who else would share this many drinks with the Mandalorian? Who else would know the best drinking games? Lando was no favorite among any of the Ghost Crew, but they did know how to have fun! Some other people had already tried to get her to stop consuming so much alcohol, but that was just because they didn’t want Sabine to enjoy the night. Probably thought they were still a little kid. Hmph. At least he knew better! So, at their instructions, she grabbed another dessert and made for the promenade across from the ever-shifting crowd.

“Oh, no problem! Be right back!” They shouted, already halfway across the gallery, waving back with a clueless guffaw.

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Hux scowled, recollecting her irritating and unprofessional banter during their last battle. It had been a week before the petty officers stopped giggling when they thought he wasn’t looking. His eyes darted around the bistro like a cornered animal. They had positioned themself between him and the exit, and Hux was not fool enough to start a knife fight with a Mandalorian.   (Not even one who had foregone beskar for a shimmering gown. At least it met the establishment’s dress code.)   The only move was to stay, figure out how much she really knew, and deny everything.

“No.”  Hux raised a hand to halt the waiter.  “The Merlot from Tal'onidir wineries will do. Two glasses of the most recent vintage.”  As they retreated, Hux turned his gaze back on the Mandalorian rebel.  “The last vintage, that is, before the vineyard burned. But you know all about that. The Empire would never have brought Mandalore so easily to its knees without your contributions, would they, Wren?”

Hux’s expression soured as the name rolled off his tongue. That syllable came preloaded with animosity for a different target; it felt wrong. He refocused on hiding his mounting anxiety. In conversation as on the battlefield, the best defense was a good offense.  “All this wild speculation about my love life, as if I have that kind of time. Does someone have a crush? What ever would your family think? I suppose we’ll never know.”

.

His eyes flitted around the room, no doubt searching for exits. But she knew he wouldn’t act so quickly if he didn’t have to. Hux wasn’t the kind to cause a scene if it could be avoided. They could tell he was starting to get defensive. Good. The anger could easily be mistaken for attack, but Sabine could read him better than that. When he snapped, it was out of pure self-preservation. In this way, Sabine disregarded the comment about the wine, shrugging it off with a wave of her hand. They’d done their research and come prepared. She had time for mourning and regret later, but for a man like this? He didn’t deserve any of her emotions. Instead, eyebrows raised in a practiced flirt, an attempt to sow discontent from the growing tension. They reflected on the informants she’d taken weeks to track down, the spies she’d had to weigh truth and lies from. One specific canary came to the forefront of their mind, and she rephrased their words with a gentle lilt.

“Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it, Armitage? And from what I hear, you have quite the taste for destruction, yourself. I mean, I can’t help but notice how familiar my surname is to you. Just a letter away, really. You have history with not one Ren, but two, am I right?”

The server returned with the requested bottle, and she nodded thanks as the glasses filled. Though their stomach churned at the idea of savoring something created by the people she’d helped destroy, Sabine didn’t let that sway her attitude. This persona, this mask, it was carefully curated just for him. (And wouldn’t that just flatter him to know?) There was no time to falter.

“Perhaps they wouldn’t be too pleased. But, then, dear old dad wouldn’t be too proud of your wine and dine with a Mandalorian, would he?”

Sabine smirked into their glass, before raising it in a mock toast.

“To forbidden romances.” They whispered, just loud enough for the general to hear. Perhaps that old adage still held some measure of truth. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. And even if it wasn’t right, oh, was it fun.

@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.

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?”

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

It  was  times  like  this  where  Kallus  thought  about  how  young  Sabine  and  Ezra  had  been  when  the  war  had  started.  They  were  not  much  older  than  children,  yet  to  the  enemy  they  had  been  heinous  rebels.  No  remorse  for  even  an  orphan  like  Ezra,  who  had  learned  to  survive.  He  had  chased  them  like  dogs.  As  they  spoke  to  him  he  sighed.  He  knew  all  about  that.  The  Empire  had  instilled  so  many  beliefs  in  him  and  it  had  taken  two  times  as  much  work  for  him  to  realize  that  the  brainwashing  was  just  that.  He  was  a  cog  in  the  machine,  no  one  special.  There  was  so  much  he  could  actually  do.  It  was  liberating  when  he  had  finally  started  asking  questions,  gaining  an  awareness.  The  cloud  had  been  lifted.  It  sounded  similar  for  his  Mandalorian  friend.  “  You  are  right  of  course…..  Not  everyone  has  the  same  idea  of  peace.  “  his  peace  had  been  sitting  on  his  porch  with  Zeb,  actually  able  to  take  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  A  home  that  was  his.  What  was  his  peace  now?  

It  was  easy  for  him  to  notice  how  Sabine  was  able  to  turn  things  back  to  him  and  how  poorly  he  was  doing.  But  he  didn’t  want  to  think  about  that  now,  Zeb  back  on  Lira  San,  abandoned  by  Kallus  to  go  on  some  self  serving  mission  to  capture  Thrawn,  only  stopping  because  he  was  worried  about  his  friends.  His  jaw  clenched  and  he  looked  away  again.  He  couldn’t  explain  this,  not  to  anyone.  “  Zeb’s  been  fighting  a  long  time.  Longer  than  many  of  us.  I  don’t…..  I  can’t  pull  him  back  in.  He  deserves  peace  more  than  anyone  I  know.  “  his  tone  is  guarded  now  and  when  he  looks  back,  his  eyes  are  colder.  No  one  would  agree  with  him  more  than  the  Ghost  Crew,  but  he  needed  to  make  his  intentions  clear.  Kallus  knew  that  Zeb  could  and  would  make  his  own  choice  if  need  be,  but  he  didn’t  want  it  to  come  to  that  point.  

He  shouldn’t  be  so  tense  with  Sabine.  The  Ghost  Crew  had  changed  his  life,  gave  him  something  to  actually  make  it  worth  while.  What  would  he  be  without  them?  Still,  Garazeb  made  him  question  everything  to  begin  with,  called  him  friend  when  he  deserved  anything  but.  He  would  protect  the  Lasat  with  all  he  had.  “  A  drink  sounds  nice.  “  he  agreed,  eyeing  them.  “  I  don’t  mean  to  be….  Harsh.  I  just  don’t  want  to  pull  him  back  into  this.  Not  unless  he  really  wants  to.  I  just  want  him  to  be  happy,  Sabine.  You  must  understand  that.  “  He  pulled  his  jacket  closer  to  him,  “  Do  you  have  a  cantina  in  mind?  “  

Tension permeated the air as her friend tightened his jaw. Sabine noticed the turning in his eyes, the shift from comfort to pain. They realized in that instant that their advice may have been too critical, could have come off as blaming this man for caring too much. That’s the last thing she wanted to convey. She knew how much Kallus meant to Zeb. How much they both meant to each other.

“Kallus, I think I...might not have explained myself well.” They took a breath, chose their words with more caution this time, careful not to seem judgmental. “I’m not blaming you, my friend,” they said with hesitancy as they reached down to wipe a smudge of dirt off the pigment of her armor. It needed a repainting soon, they noted.

“I understand how much you care for Zeb. For-- Well, for all of us.” They held his gaze, hoping to show him how much she cared too. “I just worry, is all. Well, I. And, I know-- I know we’ve been through...similar experiences.” They gritted their teeth through a smile and nodded. “I really don’t blame you one bit, Kallus. I just want you to be careful. For Zeb.” For all of us. They wiped the corner of their eye quickly, ignoring the moisture that had formed there. They’d both been through so much. This war had cost them both so much.

“C’mon, the Twisted Mynock Cantina is just a couple of klicks from here. Besides, I’ve gotta return this speeder bike to some old smuggler by sundown.”

As the two walked to where their bikes were parked, Sabine reached up, slowly, and placed their hand on Kallus’s shoulder. They had more in common than either of them cared to admit.

“I could really use that drink right about now.” 

This night was exactly what Sabine needed. After months of...well, everything that had happened, this feeling was nothing short of a fucking miracle. So, they figured, might as well ride the high while it was here. Let tomorrow’s problems belong to tomorrow; today was for good company. And speaking of...

They spotted the twi’lek out of the corner of her eye, a nervous parent standing away from the prying eyes and hot bodies of the crowd. The garden outside was quieter, and well-lit with strings of lights. A striking contrast to their dark jumper. The weightlessness of whatever she had consumed carried them over, prompted them to pull Hera into embrace.

“Heraaaaa! Haar’chak, buir, I can’t you actually came!” They giggled and downed another shot, offering one to the mentor in front of her. “You look stunning.”

@generalspectre​ 

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ? why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?

// Yep! Sabine definitely believes in some measure of luck (good and bad). After all, the Ghost Crew can’t have gotten out of all of those tight spots without a little extra help. They’re not completely sure that it comes from any one place; she’s wondered if it could be the Force or the council of fallen Mandalorian rulers known as the Ka’ra, but she’s really not sure. They’ve always tried to have an open mind when it comes to the varied religious history of Mandalore, and they remain content with understanding that not everything can be understood. What would be the fun if there wasn’t a little mystery in the galaxy? // 

@artfuldarthness

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 

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Another ostentatious gala. Hux had no choice but to attend now that the Hapes Consortium’s alliance with the New Republic posed a threat. This time Hux kept to the shadows at the edge of the party, only listening — and certainly not eating or drinking anything he was offered. As Hux checked the time, his shoulders tensed. He’d heard of the preposterous New Republic tradition of kissing as the clock struck midnight, and he knew Alton Kastle was at this party. He hoped the reporter would not be foolish enough to try something so incriminating in public. Sure enough, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Hux mentally prepared his ‘we mustn’t, not here, we can’t be seen,’ but as soon as he turned he stopped dead.

“Not you.”

.

Sabine should have expected he’d be at a party like this. Nothing like a gala to bring out both the best and worst in the galaxy. They shouldn’t have been surprised when she noticed the general standing on the edges of the party, no doubt sulking too much to enjoy a drink or two. Pity.

“What’s wrong, Armitage? Expecting someone else?”

She took a short sip from the drink poised delicately in their hand. Something light and fruity, and nothing too alcoholic; there was work to be done, after all. But that plot wouldn’t be set in motion for another hour or two. For now, they had time to mill around, to act as though she wasn’t standing on the bones of her people.

“That’s, what, two dates now? And still no first kiss. I’m starting to feel like you don’t like me, Armitage.”

for   @beskarbuir and @finitefm​  // din djarin and tarre vizsla

──   MANDALORE,  YOUR  SCENERY  IS  LIKE  FAMINE.   mandalore,  the most stagnated,  ravaged part of it,  is too lucid for him.   the landscape straddles between home and desolation,  thriving in that liminal space;  that is to say,  it welcomes him without communion.  but that is alright,  for his learnings were true.   this is a cursed planet,  far past death and onto lying in wait.   feverish and weak.   imperials looming over and gorging on the fruit of their lands,  gloating as its acidic juice drips into the corpse’s eyes.   mandalore bares it’s clenched teeth and hungers,  too.  for ichor,  for people,  for love.

din will not be the one to satiate it.   the love he offers is for his people beyond this soured heart,  reared in their ways in places far from here.   they are a nomadic people steeped in an idea.   they are more than mandalore alone.   still,  he stood close to his companion in these past days,  keeping an eye on their surroundings but mostly on them.  it almost seemed like she would choke on the prospect of coming here,  of walking into the maw of their once home.   since their arrival,  her grief was mute;  hemorrhage kept internal.   he hopes they know that if they dotter,  he will bear their weight. 

though there,  in the distance,  rises a haunting:  arriving in beskar adorned in gilded fractures, as if shattered and rebuilt.   his steps nearly stop there,  hand so willing to pull sabine back for her safety.   to din,  they are an unknown beauty and terror looming forth   ─   and though the feeling is transient,  he dallies the tiniest bit slower than sabine when she perseveres in the face of a phantom.   then,  she drops to her knee as if the very sight of them is sacrosanct,  bowing their head in reverence.   ‘ tarre vizsla ’ ,  they had said,  and all besides the clan name and shriek hawk garners no recognition. 

his next move is less calculated.   there is a bow of his head,  hand to the heart while the other still grips his spear like a walking stick.   a commingled greeting less pronounced as sabine’s,  but respectful to a title that eludes him.   ❝  su cuy’gar.  ❞  a fraction of an accent lilts his words,  obvious in comparison between him and them,  but there is no shame in it.   he lifts his head and glances to his companion,  then back,    ❝  as had we.  ❞   concern edges his voice,  ❝  how long have you been here ?  ❞   this is a dead land.  there will be no survival here.

the   reactions   tarre   has   faced   from   their   people   have   been   many,   in   this   time.   they   cannot   say   that   the   awe   is   their   least   favorite,   for   they   have   felt   the   brunt   outraged   violence   at   assumed   deception.   the   PAIN   that   lay   beneath   those   interactions   bests   the   creeping   discomfort   of   respect   for   a   mythos   larger   than   their   life.   they   were   mand’alor   in   their   time,   after   all   –   they   know   the   INTENSITY   of   mandalorian   devotion.   but   they   have   only   made   martyrs.   to   BE   one   ?   it   is   something   entirely   different.  

when   she   kneels,   they   are   surprised   by   the   instinct   to   kneel   as   well,   to   find   the   level   of   her   eyes   beneath   her   colorful   helmet   and   assure   her   that   deference   is   largely   unnecessary.   but   this   is   not   a   force   call,   only   human   LONGING,   and   they   have   spent   years   attempting   to   calm   their   gut   punches   of   emotion.   they   mirror   her   companion   instead,   a   hand   raised   to   their   heart.   these   two   are   sharply   different   in   more   than   their   armor.   their   knowledge   of   HISTORY,   they   can   assume,   yet   the   importance   lies   in   the   force.   she   is   fireworks.   he   is   something   more   unobtrusive.   they   find   both   intriguing   on   a   level   that   may   speak   only   to   their   own   desire   for   new   connection   with   their   people.

there   are   more   pressing   matters   than   any   slowly   sharpening   edge   of   desperation,   however.   their   voice   is   smooth   as   mandalore’s   hot   winds   as   they   reply,   ❛   i   am   them.   please,   RISE   –   i   am   no   mand’alor   in   this   time.   ❜   they   would   insist   that   ALL   mandalorians   are   clan   enough   to   do   away   with   such   formalities,   if   they   had   not   begun   to   grasp   that   these   descendants   of   theirs   are   not   nearly   so   united.   ❛   i   am   glad   to   find   others.   what   is   left   of   history   is   something   worth   revisiting,   i   believe.   ❜

the   bittersweetness   of   it   all   is   beginning   to   burn.   they   tuck   the   feeling   underneath   their   tongue   and   let   it   rest   there,   tangled   up   in   the   core   of   them.   ❛   only   briefly.   there   is   better   accommodation   not   too   far   from   here.   i   wanted   to   see   what   this   became.   ❜   their   words   come   freely,   yet   remain   careful   with   that   bittersweet,   that   knot   of   feeling.   their   head   tilts   slightly   as   they   look   back   to   the   ruins.   ❛   this   is   a   place   of   BLOOD.   it   is   good   that   it   is   no   home.   ❜   it   had   been   theirs,   once,   and   they   suppose   that   that   is   the   tragedy   of   it.   this   loss   will   not   leave   them.

So, it was them, Mand’alor be’ruyot. How or why the leader had returned during their peoples’ most desolate hour was far beyond her understanding. Despite years spent in the company of Jedi, this was perhaps the most impossible thing she’d ever witnessed. Tongue heavy, Sabine found that they had no words-- no amount of training could have ever prepared her for this. Still, at their ancestor’s command, she rose, glancing over at their brother-in-arms.

The younger Mandalorian knew that their companion was not as versed in the history of their people-- which was not something she faulted them for. It just was, a product of circumstance. They examined him-- a shared language of silence only the two knew, unreliant on the visages hidden beneath beskar. This was the nature of their friendship: an understanding that silence had its own place in the conversations they held. So much was shared with so little sound. Despite the unease and confusion that now plagued them both, Sabine understood.

Attention turned, shifting back to the words spoken by one who held so many stories from an age lifetimes before her own. Guilt seized their breath once again. This place was no home, not for anyone. Nor had it been for years, and there were few more to blame than she. Sabine felt their voice waver and crack in response to the bitterness of the haastal.

“No. It is not.” So many skeletons haunted this wasteland once called prosperous, once called beloved. “It belongs now only to the mercy of the Ka’ra above.”

Noticing how uncomfortable the formalities had made their ancestor, Sabine extended an unsteady arm, anticipation of the traditional salute for Mando’ade.

“I am Sabine of Clan Wren and House Vizsla.” There was a moment of pause, consideration. Her companion could share their name if he wanted. It was optional, as most words between the two were. “It is an honor to share your name. Gedet’ye, what may I call you if not ner Mand’alor?”

They couldn’t help but hope her friend wasn’t too lost right now. She gave them a glance as if to reassure him that she’d explain later.