Chaotickylia​ // Kylia Horne

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   THE  REMARK,  A  BREACH  THROUGH  A  VEILED  HUSH,  was welcome yet unexpected.  he appreciates their comment,  how it didn’t come from a mouth of want.   there had been enough words from those seeking to shuck the beskar off his body,  making a flayed revenant out of him.   he thinks to ask about their armor in turn:   who painted it,  who forged it,  was it inherited;  things of the like.   they both know he will voice none of it,  but he still casts them a lilted glance in content. 

by the time they arrive,  the afternoon has deepened,  twin shadows trail their approach toward something a little more than a shed,  an initial shop that surely housed a downward descent  ( a staple of tatooine’s architecture ).   rounding the corner,  they near the garage opening,  with it’s gaping maw of oddities spilling forth.   towards the back seats a mechanic immersed in soldering,  though they instantly sensed the incoming presence.

 ❝  ah  —  now this is a surprise !  ❞  the worker pushes from their current project and rises to their feet,  bouncing with a certain energy.  nerves or just genuine shock at their entry,  din couldn’t tell.   a reflection of the alloy flickers across their eyes and a hand rises to shield from the brilliance,  wincing through a cordial smile all the while.    ❝  what can i do for you,  mandalorians ?   and make it quick !   the shop closes soon.  ❞   he questions that particular remark  —  there were a couple hours until dusk swallowed the land,  and the current season even staved the night’s reach.

din’s reply is curt,  as unrelenting as their steady walk into the workshop,  ❝  we’re not here for business.  ❞ 

the mechanic’s features falter,  darting through curiosity,  contempt,  concern,  then back to curiosity with open palms.    ❝  oh ?   then why would you two be here ?   i imagine you’d be quite busy with the  —  ❞   a north-bound wave of the hand,  back towards the village.   ❝   —  favors the locals asked of you.  ❞

his next approach is considered; either direct questioning or intimidating with an oppressive silence will set off this middleman  ( he assumes )  based on their snappy movements alone.   though a moment is taken to rethink this. perhaps the fellow mandalorian would like to initiate the conversation,  or instigate it.   an interest in witnessing her approach also goads him.   with his torso turning to his companion,  he looks at her  —  gestures made in silence to say,  ‘ will you do the honors ? ’

Sabine studies their counterpart’s features with a vested interest. Just because she cannot see their face does not mean the two don’t share another language, one comprised of the movement between breaths. It’s instinctual, a result of their shared heritage. His foot shifts the slightest degree backwards, and in turn she rocks forward, hand on blaster.

“So, here’s how this goes down. We all keep calm, and you tell us what we want to know--” Two pairs of veiled eyes met, and the Mandalorians tense, readying themselves for confrontation.

“--or--” they propose, now openly brandishing the firearm (one of a twin pair, just as their wielder).

“--you tell us what we want to know and you get a blaster bolt to the heart. Now, I may have a good temper, but I can’t vouch for my partner here.” A smile creeps into her voice, and they hope the humor is well-received. 

A flurry of steps, a dance of fingers on triggers and sand spitting from an attempted runaway. The pulse of energy, bright blue, trailing the space from metal tip to calloused leather, and the drop of a body. (Not dead. Only stunned.) With haste, they drag the body into the shadow of the workshop, then duck down a set of hidden stairs. The two work in an awkward sync, mirroring movements and hesitating with unease. Still, it works. With an ally at each other’s side (and a little bit of good fortune), the bounty was as good as theirs. 

“Kandosii, vod. Let’s go.”

@generalspectre​ // Hera Syndulla

The  thought  of  having  Sabine  under  their  roof  for  any  amount  of  time  was  enough  to  make  Hera  smile.  “  Don’t  worry,  he’ll  be  just  as  happy  to  see  you  tomorrow.  “  The  pilot  was  sure  that  her  child  had  so  much  going  on.  She  knew  that  the  Mandalorian  felt  very  deeply,  especially  with  the  death  of  Ezra.  “  You  know  you  always  have  a  home  here.  “  they  replied,  smiling  down  at  the  loth  cat  as  she  answered.  “  I  don’t  know  how  Chopwill  feel  about  you  though.  “  she  informed  the  cat,  watching  the  cat  nip  at  their  heels.  “  We’ll  just  have  to  be  careful.  “  Dark  brows  raise  as  they  recognize  the  pale  pink  drink  in  their  hands.  Her  own  move  to  her  hips  and  she  grins,  “  I  don’t  remember  the  last  time  I  had  an  adult  drink.  “  the  emphasis  on  adult  is  intentional.  They  step  forward,  wrapping  one  arm  around  their  shoulders,  the  cold  armor  pressing  against  her  sleeves.  “  Now  we  just  need  to  get  Zeb  back  here.  “  the  murmured,  leading  the  pair  up  the  ramp.  They  could  never  fault  their  friend  for  being  happy  with  their  people,  but  she  still  missed  him.  

Sabine’s smile broke a little at the mention of Zeb’s name. Although glad to hear from Kallus that he was doing well, it still stung a little, knowing the reunion was incomplete. Still, the Mandalorian had one of their parents here, had their little brother, Jacen (they even had Chopper), and that was enough for now.

Sabine handed Hera the drink and followed the twi’lek into the cabin of the ship. As soon as she stepped inside, the little astromech raced to greet her, chittering away. They lowered themself to his level, raising one hand to the little droid’s dome in affection.

“Okay, okay, Chop! Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.” They glanced over at Blueberry, who stood behind Hera with raised ears and bristled tail. “No, you will not, Chopper. Don’t joke about that.” Sabine met their cat’s eyes, holding his gaze. “You two play nice. And don’t you wake Jacen.”

They turned with a slight sigh, wondering how long it would take for either to pick a fight. Hera stood a few feet away, watching with amusement and crossed arms.

“I think you have a point about these guys. We’ll have to keep an eye on them. But hopefully Jacen will be glad to meet Blue.”

They followed Hera through the familiar passages of the ship until both were seated across from each other, their bags stowed messily on the floor. Sabine sighed, stretching out, reaching for a glass. Finally, she could relax.

@pilotheart​ // Zay Versio

Zay Versio was… at loss with what she was supposed to say, now. She had people flirt with her, before, but it was often on missions, and often strangers, and she had no remorse in telling them off. There, she knew she was messing things up. And did not like even the idea of it. “Uh, it’s probably my fault,” Zay said. “I’m barely on base, so maybe you didn’t have time to actually ask.” To be honest, that wasn’t even a suggestion. Zay was always out flying, partly because she loved it and felt better on a ship than on ground, and because it helped in avoiding to be on the same base than her parents. Until now. “Will you teach me some mando'a, one day? It always sounds pretty.” Wow, that was stupid. But she’d always been interested in learning it, having inherited her father’s curiosity. Sabine’s next question made her freeze, though. Zay wasn’t on Onderon to have fun, but there was so many people that she probably wouldn’t be noticed leaving. And half of them didn’t have their senses, just like her friend. “If you’re ready to get your feet crushed, because I’ve never learned.” This was a mistake… but then again, Sabine was visibly drunk, so they weren’t going to remember it.

.

Though the room was spinning and shifting around them (was it more to do with the high or the nerves?), there was one thing Sabine could count on remaining steady. Those eyes. Zay’s eyes reflected the light above and around in a brilliance, a gaze of whiskey filtering sunlight. Sabine’s breath caught in their throat, and the Mandalorian took her friend’s hand gently in their own. 

“Zay, I would tell you anything you wanted to know,” they found themself breathing as the two adjusted their weight, an awkward movement of hands on shoulders, hips. They were unsure, both toeing gently around each other. Still, it wasn’t about the music or timing or even the missteps. It was more than that.

“I don’t think I can dance either,” they blushed, pulling her friend as close as she dared. Sure, she had learned once upon a time (there was a rhythm to war just as a there was to dance), but now... The music spun itself between them, filling the pauses with a prompt of movement and rhythm. The two rocked, slowly, and a little out of time, but the gesture was just as sweet. “Not like this, I mean.” Inebriated. Shitfaced. Fuck, what was she doing? Zay probably thought they were only acting on liquor and high. Did she think Sabine wasn’t sincere? It hurt to wonder. They cursed the stutter that burdened her lips, cursed the alcohol and the drugs and the fluttering fear at the thought of her friend’s hand in her own.

“Zay, I-I know you think it’s. That it’s because I’m drunk, and that’s partly true, but I— I feel like this when I’m sober, too. Okay. Like, even though there’s a million stars out there, all I can look at,” she exhaled softly, two pairs of war-marked eyes meeting and glancing away, “is you.”

There it was. And nothing could take it back now (not that they would if they could). Because Zay was worth the risk.

“You find me tomorrow and I’ll tell you the same thing.” And it was true. It had been true for weeks, months now. All she could do was hope their friend felt the same.

@spectrcsix​ // Ezra Bridger

closed starter for @call-me-spectre-five -

“please don’t hit me. or shoot me. or throw something at me!” ezra calls out as he approaches, gritting his teeth. he fully expects sabine to do at least one of those things after the choices he made - not that she thinks she wouldn’t have understood, but that doesn’t mean it was necessarily an easy decision for everyone to have accepted. he gets that. he does.

he stands by it, though, just like he knows kanan stood by his choice despite the cost.

he holds his hands up in an attempt to show he’s not here for a fight, his trademark guilty-embarrassed-bashful sort of smile on his face. not that ezra expects that to be enough to save his ass from sabine’s wrath, but he has to try. right? “would it help to know you’re like - the second person i’ve come to see? so pretty high on the list. that counts for something, right?

Sabine had heard rumors about Ezra since almost right after he disappeared. Where to search wild space, who knew anything, what to do in the face of her loss. After one lie too many, Sabine had closed themself off, prompting weeks of solitude and grief. She had promised herself then that she wouldn’t respond to another false informant, but this, this felt...different. They couldn’t explain it, only that it was a pull in her gut leading to the point of the rendezvous. And…they actually couldn’t believe the figure standing before her.

“Ezra?” They asked, voice weighty with emotion. No, this had to be a trick. It had been a long time (too long) and she couldn’t be lucky enough to win this one. If it was Ezra, what had she done to deserve him back? Why now? But he kept talking and moving and breathing and being so Ezra.

“Ezra! Fuck!” They dropped everything and leapt into him, nearly tackling him to the ground. He was taller than them now, but all she could do was throw her arms around his frame, pull him close. They exhaled into his side, feeling for the first time in months a genuine sense of hope. Kanan was back, and now, so was Ezra. Her family was back, and there was nothing else she needed in this moment. And then, despite his warnings, she gave him a light smack on the back of the head. Nothing that would hurt, but something reminiscent of times when they could show affection through sparring (both verbal and physical). “Copaani mirshmure’cye, vod’ika? Where the hell have you been?”

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​ 

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.

hopejedi​ // Rey​​

Rey had been feeling rather overwhelmed and a bit uncomfortable, they’d never really gone to an event like this before — moreover, Rey had never been dressed as she was now. It felt a bit unnerving, and they compensated by clinging to the walls and hiding off and on in the fresher. Their stomach was salivating at the sight of the food provided, but there was a part of them that felt guilty taking part in it. Besides, there was a strange feeling that they felt growing in their head now.  Their thoughts and anxiety was interrupted though as they almost walked into another guest. “ Oh I’m so sorr– pardon ? ”  A slight blush coloured Rey’s cheeks as the woman looking back said… had she really said that ?  Rey felt momentarily stunned.

Their feet shifted backwards half a step, the world tilting on its side for just a moment before righting again. Her vision slowed and focused in on the person in from of them. All sun-kissed skin and hair that refracted the artifical lighting in such a way it stole the air from her chest. 

“I-I’m. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just.” They clutched at where her vambrace normally would be (--where did it go? and their armor, why was she unclad in the beskar of her people?) and looked sheepishly at their toes. 

“You’re. You’re just a, uh, a.” Kriff, why were words so heavy in her mouth? This was always an obstacle for them, the struggle of clear speech, but tonight it felt nearly impossible. “You’re really quite beautiful and I m-may have.” They hiccuped and felt blood rush to her cheeks self-consciously. Kriff, this was a disaster. “Have had too much to drink.” An awkward smile passed her lips. Here’s to hoping this newcomer wouldn’t judge her too harshly for her lack of sobriety.

xspectre-1​ // Kanan Jarrus

.

“sabine you don’t… have to tell me. i’m not going to make you– relive anything…”he said, blinking as she continued, keeping his attention focused on her. his grip remained firm until– people coming back? could the force do that? thoughts briefly strayed– why he had been brought back but so many hadn’t– why only some had been chosen. 

he interrupted, feeling sabine’s movement. her greif. hands moved to carefully take her shoulders, “hey… hey we don’t have to talk about that, not now,” he assured her, sighing as he pulled her bac k into a hug. his confusion didn’t matter, not as much as her comfort… or at least, ability to calm down. he could catch up in his own time… with a small smile, he tightened his grip some, “i’m just glad you’re okay–”

.

She breathed deeply into his side, the familiar scent of leather and ash filling her senses. A torrent of emotions fought in their chest. Anger. Grief. Joy. Exhaustion. And something they couldn’t speak into existence, the feeling of finally being home.

“Kanan, I’m so- I’m sorry. I’m--”

Sorry I can’t explain it better--

Sorry I couldn’t stop the fire before it--

Sorry I couldn’t get the ship out of there fast enough--

Sorry I disappointed you.

But he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember because he didn’t live it, and thank the Force for that. Or the Manda. Whatever had brought him back, she would raise a glass to it, now and forever. Their buir was back, and nothing would take him away from her again. Fuck the rules, this was their father.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too.” They could tell Kanan was confused, was lost and trying his best to hold it together for her sake. They sighed, then used the back of her hand to push away the tears falling shamelessly across her cheeks. It was her turn to comfort him, despite the ache in their own chest. (Because that’s what children do for their parents.)

“It’s been about two years since the Empire fell. The New Republic is starting to reinstate some form of government and peace in the galaxy. And--” they hesitated, unsure of the specifics regarding his religion and people. What she did know, though, she would share. “The Jedi aren’t hunted anymore. No more Vader. No more Inquisitors.  As far as the Rebellion is concerned, Kanan... you’re a hero.” You’re my hero. 

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​ 

❛  i wish it wasn’t true .  ❜ –– from trilla

“Yeah, um.” They gently kicked up some of the dirt that coated the ground, tracing a pattern of anxiety into the earth. “Me too. Maybe in a better galaxy somewhere, this wouldn’t have happened, but, uh. But we’ve gotta play with the cards we’re dealt, huh?” They asked, albeit halfheartedly. Still, if she had to pick someone to go through this with, Trilla wasn’t a bad choice.

@cravked