Beskarbuir​ // Din Djarin

sacreficied​ // Kanan Jarrus

a huff of laughter pushed out of his nose and he nodded his head in agreement. no, something being hard had never discouraged them all from doing something –– it had only made them get a little more creative with how they had approached it. but he would give the others credit for that before himself, easily viewing them all as vastly superior to his own. he had his own strengths, that was just one that he saw being more advanced in the others.

“oh, absolutely,” kanan agreed with a deep chuckle escaping, giving a nod of his head as his arms folded across his broad chest. they would have all been lost without hera, not just him –– something that he was painfully aware of. “we’d all be lost without them.”

a beat passes, something heavier clearly laying on his mind from the crease between his brow. “if i had to choose between, i know the choice i’d make. i just hope i never have to make that choice.”

Their smile turned somber once again with his dire words of sacrifice and loss. He doesn’t have to tell her the choice he’d make because they’d already lived it. The aftermath of his decision to protect Hera, to protect all of the crew that Sabine called aliit--  it weighed on them both. Weighed on all of the Spectre crew, really, but it sat in between them in the here and now.

“Yeah, me, too.” The tone-shift was heavy and awkward to navigate, something she didn’t really want to adopt right now. With everything that had happened in the last few years, loss was always on the forefront of their mind-- often partnered with guilt. “Still, uh, we’ve always been lucky enough to have each other.” Almost always. “What’s on your mind, Kanan?”

❛  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 

@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.” 

📜

Zeb: I prevented a murder today. Sabine: Really? How’d you do that? Zeb: Self control.

@spectreoflasan

l  closed starter  l  @spectrcsix​

The hesitation was unusual. Sure, there had been rocky patches in their friendship before, but it had been so long, and so much had changed while he was gone. Wars finished and begun, jumps in time not even the Jedi could really explain. Entire moons collapsing and a handful of holonet scandals. And he’d missed it all. She didn’t blame him, of course, but there were blanks that hadn’t there before, for the both of them. It had been months since Ezra’s return, but Sabine still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something wrong. Even as he had answered their call and agreed to meet them on the mission, Sabine felt tense. 

“Look what the loth-cat dragged in!” They slowly reached for an embrace, not used to reaching upwards at his now-tall frame. “Glad you could make it, Ezra. Ought to be a fireworks show if everything goes right,” they grinned even despite the anxiety. Their bond may look different, but he was still their brother. Not one year, not even a hundred years in wild space could change that. 

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

Hux peered down his nose at his glass, following the proper steps of savoring a new wine as he considered her comment about destruction. They must know about Starkiller, then. Good. Let her spill more and more of her intel in the guise of gloating. The comment about Rens wrinkled his nose, a gesture he hid behind sniffing his wine. And if the absurd pretense of a date meant they were suggesting anything other than professional history, Hux studiously ignored the implication.  “The Knights of Ren are an entire group which I’ve had the misfortune of associating with. You’ll need to be more specific.”  And in doing so, show exactly which cards were in their hand.

Her flirtatious behavior set him on edge.   (And that was exactly the point, wasn’t it?)   He had no doubt the individual across the table would sooner kill him than kiss him, and that, at least, was mutual. Every suggestive whisper or raised eyebrow was met with a narrow-eyed glare or a tightening of his well-practiced emotionless mask. But the mention of his father Brendol cracked the facade, a flash of raw fury lighting up his eyes. Hux smothered the fire and considered his options.

“To disappointing our parents,”  he answered instead, raising his glass to meet theirs. Weighing his words carefully — he had selected this bistro for its acceptance of an Imperially-aligned clientele — he met her gaze with singular intensity.  “Such a decorated figure in his field, my father. I can only imagine how pleased the New Republic would be if anything were to happen to him.”

.

There it was, the flash of emotion behind a facade of indifference. For just a second, this man let go of the carefully crafted mask. Then he quickened back to the haven of professionalism and dug at them, asking her to share what they knew of the Rens. Sabine understood the game. And she knew that he did, too. Perhaps better than anyone they’d had the pleasure of dining with of late. Information could be traded and turned like pawns in a game of chess. And it simply wouldn’t do to lay their playbook out for him to read at his lesiure.

“No, I don’t think I will. You seem like a man who just loves a mystery, Armitage. Besides, a girl’s gotta have their secrets.”

Instead, they zeroed in on his discomfort (anger? hatred, perhaps?) with her casual aside about Brendol. So, they’d guessed right. His name was like a spear, offering a chink in the armor of apathy. She took the gateway with greed, digging a foothold in the injury.

“Oya.” They took a sip of the wine. It would have been pleasant if it didn’t carry so much baggage. But, there wasn’t time for that. The game was in session, and it was Sabine’s turn to move. “I won’t disagree with you on that front. He is quite distinguished and respected, isn’t he? I can only imagine how hard it was for you to grow up in the shadow of such a dignified man. But we’re not here to talk about him, Hux.” They made sure to address him this time by the name shared with his father before echoing his words back at him, “If anything were to happen to him...how would you feel?”

galaxywon​ // Hera Syndulla

There  was  a  sick  knot  in  Hera’s  stomach,  hands  dropping  from  Sabine’s  arms  as  another  blast  made  them  duck  for  cover.  She  hadn’t  even  bothered  to  bring  a  weapon.  At  one  point  in  their  life,  it  would  have  been  baffling  not  to  have  one  on  their  hip.  She  imagined  it  was  even  worse  for  their  Mandalorian  child.  “  Good  idea.  My  comm  was  smashed  in  the  commotion.  We’ll  have  to  go  to  Chopper,  tell  him  to  prepare  the  ship.  “  she  informed  them,  eyes  scanning  the  vicinity  one  more  time,  hoping  for  Zeb’s  purple  fur,  Kanan’s  tall  frame,  Ezra’s  dark  hair.  They  weren’t  there,  at  least  not  in  her  view.  “  They  should  know  to  evac  to  The  Ghost  when  they  can,  when  they’ve  done  all  they  can  do.  “  When  there’s  no  one  left  to  save.  “  We  just  have  to  make  sure  the  ship  is  prepared.  “  

The two ducked through the chaos, the eruption of violence continuing its ruinous wake around them. Fires burned in the reflection of Hera’s eyes, and Sabine felt nothing but raw, unfiltered fury, white-hot and burning in their stomach.

“Well, we’d better keep the engine running for them, huh?”

The two of them would see their family again. Sabine had to believe it, had to commit it to memory with every tension of muscle, every kick and thrust and stab and bite. If she had to tear the throats out of every Hapan guard between here and the Ghost, they’d do it. The two of them were going to see their family again, and fuck anything or anyone that stood in the way of a Mandalorian determined.

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ? how do they express that pride ?

// Sabine definitely takes gratification in the company they keep. After choosing to leave the Imperial Academy, she was ostracized from their family and spent some time wondering whether or not they deserved the isolation they received. Ketsu’s betrayal only strengthened this resolve and left them in doubt about their worthiness of friendship. This affected her ability to trust, and the first few months with the Spectres were a rough adjustment. Now, though, she loves them all fiercely. Sabine can’t believe that she got lucky enough to make the new family that they did, and they hold the Ghost crew in high respect and admiration. Though they’ll brag about their second family for hours and hours to any willing ear, she might not always vocalize that respect directly to the Spectres. Instead, she likes to focus on silent acts of love. If you find yourself with a new bottle of your favorite spirit of choice, find your blasters checked and polished, or if you feature in one of their artworks, just know-- Sabine truly loves you. // 

@spectreoflasan

beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   HERE  IS  WHERE  THEY  MAY  FINALLY  BREATHE  IN  AGAIN,  when a culmination of violence frays to a resolution.   messy,  still,  and it’s another finished job for the two.   conflict is their heritage,  but it is a sister to calmness,  and it is built into the architecture of their bones.   the bounty is carbon-frozen,  weapons are secured,  and they lean on the side of their gunship with some tension finally leaving their shoulders.   however,  their breath hitches once as a fresh wound is sanitized and bound.   a cut upon an aging bruise on top of a fading scar.   it’ll take more for them to fall apart at the seams,  even if the galaxy begs for a butchering.

their companions stands a few paces away,  and they’re content in their familiar presence.   another part of them allows hesitance to linger in case of a change in mind,  in case of betrayal;  the rest of them chastises themself for the instinct.   sabine has stuck with them this far   ─   and her gait holds a loneliness akin to their own.   she may occupy a space in their solitude,  if she wishes. 

though at the turn of her heel, ❝   ─   sabine,  wait,  ❞  spoken so suddenly,  as a glove is pried off his right hand.  ❝  keep looking away.  please.  ❞  a long stare follows,  just enough to see her comply and turn her cheek.   the flesh of their left palm presses into the helmet’s rim,  the weight of it keeping some resistance until cool air brushes the lower half of his face.   the swelling of his bandaged nose bridge is touched gingerly before it travels to his cheek,  jaw,  then lips.  there,  it lingers over a cauterizing split and pulls away.   the dried coagulate slips beneath his fingernail.   gravity pulls their helmet down again with gentle guidance.   they’re healing,  and that’s the best they can ask for. 

❝  you can look again.  ❞  spoken softer this time,  when their bare hand is sheathed once more. ❝  thanks.  ❞

    ─   @call-me-spectre-five

(cw light medical injuries)

The job had been arduous, taxing on body and mind. Neither had escaped unscathed, but their friend had taken an especially traumatic blow to the head. At their companion’s bid, she turned away, quick to respect their adherence to privacy, to remaining faceless and nameless. She does not fully understand his interpretation of the Creed, but they don’t discredit it, either. Years ago on their home planet, a lesson was taught to the foundlings: Mandalore is a people, and no one warrior may understand their texts and tales in the same way. This was a view Sabine had adopted for their own, and it held true; as long as this brother-in-arms was not using violence to influence the beliefs of others, they saw no harm in his actions.

“I apologize. I…I should have been more careful.”

The sting of the sutures and bacta spray wasn’t anything compared to the hurt she felt for this travel companion, for their panic and fear. Closing the stitch on her forearm, they were reminded of the guilt. The shame and responsibility she bore for the extinction of their people…gods, it put more weight on her shoulders than any beskar ever could.

At his admission, they turn, the familiar countenance of steel meeting her gaze. She tosses them a smile and a canteen of water. He can drink when he’s ready. She’s glad to be in their presence, to share the transport ship with such fine company. Though much remains unspoken between the two, there is some layer of trust woven into the silence. It makes the questions she wants to ask that much more difficult; they don’t want to drive him away with the pressure of speech. If and when they wanted to talk, Sabine would be there to listen, but it wasn’t a foundation of their friendship.

“Vod, I-” Tongue touched the roof of mouth, and they felt the words heavy as lead. “You don’t have to say yes, okay? You can say no. But, uh,” Shit, they felt so stupid. This goddamned struggle with speech, it always resurfaced when she was anxious. “Can I ask you a few questions about your clan? About your faith?”

Manda, they hoped it wasn’t a step over his line of trust. (She didn’t know how thin it ran.)

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.