Cravked​ // Trilla Suduri

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 

@versios​ // Iden Versio

between the constant lag of living upon a ship and utter joys of only seeming to know artificial sunrise and sunsets, it’s not much of a surprise that iden had not been able to respond immediately to the younger soldier’s transmission. she’d gotten to as quickly as she could though, still smiling at the little quip that sabine had to offer about it. she wouldn’t have expected anything less, after all. she smiled, setting down the transmitter on the dashboard so she didn’t have to hold it, leaning back in her chair. 

“sounds like you need a vacation.” there was truth to her words, of course, was there usually was when it came to most in the rebellion. the war had ended, but their work had never actually stopped. there was always something to do, there always would be. it was an inevitable truth. it didn’t matter what any of them wanted. of course, none of them actually were eager to take pause to anything.

a sigh escaped at the mention of hosk, a deep breath coming a moment after. no, none of this was exactly what she had thought it would be either, but she doesn’t want to voice her own insecurities when it seemed like the other needed some… guidance, maybe.

“no, it’s not. the empire accepted defeat but not everyone in it did. the war is over legally, yet us soldiers are just as busy.” iden validated sabine’s feelings, taking a pause. “how close are you to the kalarba system? it’s mid rim, at least. i know there are still people left on the planet who need help with evacuation. the station crashing ruined most of its civilization.”

A yawn racked Sabine’s throat, and she shook their head. They needed caf, and soon. The ship’s autopilot system had been finicky lately, and she had already fallen asleep at the helm once. Best not to take more risks than absolutely necessary.

“A vacation sounds nice.” They stretched, raising their hands above their head. The tension in her muscles loosened, and their breathing deepened reflexively. “But if they were handing those out, I think you’d deserve the first one, commander.” 

Her friend’s words about the Empire and the work to be done were somber, but they knew it to be true. Even after the collapse of an official military, there were still thousands of Empire sympathizers, not to mention rampant crime syndicates and pirate crews. The fight for a better galaxy would never truly die.

“Kalarba, Kalarba...” Sabine mumbled, bringing up a holo map of the galaxy. They needed to refuel, and to grab supplies, but all in all, it “shouldn’t take me more than a rotation and half to get there. Will I be meeting anyone I know once I drop into orbit?”

generally-scheming​ // Armitage Hux

His pulse accelerated when they produced the datapad, its blank screen mocking him with unknown possibilities. But what could she possibly have? Hux had been meticulous about covering his tracks — he’d hired a slicer to remove any trace of him from the security footage at 500 Republica on the night he delivered the infamous Amidala tape. Then he’d gone a step further and airlocked the slicer to eliminate the risk that they would talk.   (Saved him a few credits, too.)   And he had of course searched Alton’s penthouse for bugs. Every time!  Granted, that night at the New Republic fundraiser when he had first met Alton, he had been… thoroughly inebriated   (not by his own design! Damn that Seventh Sister)   and had perhaps not been quite as cautious accompanying Alton back to his ship as was appropriate.   (Appropriate being not at all, but it was too late for that now.)  

But even as reason urged him to tread carefully, pride demanded he call her bluff. Hux returned their gaze with haughty, manufactured confidence.  “I would do nothing,”  Hux said firmly, as if saying it with sufficient authority would make it so,  “Because you have nothing. It does not exist.”  Cold sweat slicked his palms as he waited for her response.

_

His words rang with hollow intent in Sabine’s ears. Of course, he’d try to deny her accusation (no doubt a result of years of practice). She followed his glance once to the datapad and held it lithely in their fingertips, toying with the edge of the screen. He was trying to measure the truth in her words, trying to pry the evidence from them. Fine. She’d lean into the game. (No reward without risk, right?)

“Okay, Armitage. If that’s what you really think, who am I to stop you? After all--” they picked up the datapad, letting the grain of an image flash in his direction  for just a couple of moments before stowing it out of sight. “--I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d like to believe otherwise. Maybe I should take my concerns to them and be on my way.” 

They moved as if readying to leave, examining his face for any reaction. Stealth armor pressed into her skin beneath the dress, vibroblade at their thigh cool to the touch. Cowardly though Sabine thought he was, if there was any chance of a fight, she’d be ready. An inhale and an exhale marked her lungs, and excitement ran electric across the Mandalorian’s skin. The ball was in his court now, and Sabine couldn’t wait to see how he’d play.

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Kallus  knew,  just  as  much  as  the  rest  of  them,  how  easy  it  was  to  be  alone.  Solitary  had  been  his  comfort.  As  an  ISB  agent  they  were  conditioned  to  be  on  the  outside.  They  weren’t  in  the  same  chain  of  command  as  the  rest  of  the  Imperial  Navy.  They  were  internal  affairs,  never  trusted.  His  career  had  been  based  in  solitude.  He  hadn’t  realized  until  he  joined  the  Rebellion  that  maybe  he  did  prefer  the  company  of  others.  Others  like  the  Spectres,  like  Zeb  and  Hera  and  Sabine.  “  You  don’t  need  to  explain  yourself.  “  he  countered,  finally  relaxing  his  stance,  hands  moving  into  the  pockets  of  his  jacket.  “  But  do  not  feel  the  need  to  go  through  life  without  us.  We  are  here  for  you.  “  

His  eyes  studied  their  face,  watching  the  way  their  stance  relaxed  slowly.  Alexsandr  didn’t  want  Sabine  to  feel  the  need  to  assure  him  that  everything  was  okay,  but  he  understood  the  reasons  why.  It  was  easy  to  forget  that  they  had  been  at  the  Imperial  Academy.  It  was  a  lesson  ingrained  from  the  very  beginning,  to  not  let  emotions  cloud  ones  judgement.  It  was  something  he  had  taken  to  heart.  As  a  Mandalorian,  he  assumed  it  was  second  nature  to  them.  “  I  am  glad  then.  “  he  didn’t  believe  them,  but  he  also  wouldn’t  argue  now.  Not  when  he  had  just  come  back.  

“  We’ve  been  integrating  Lira  San  with  the  New  Republic.  Very  slowly.  Understandably,  many  are  apprehensive.  Some  survivors  from  Lasan  believe  that  another  attack  in  imminent.  “  he  spoke  mechanically,  not  allowing  his  own  guilt  from  the  event  to  break  through.  Sabine  knew  enough  about  his  past.  “  Garazeb  is  well,  if  that’s  what  you  are  wondering.  Though  he  misses  his  family.  “  he  met  their  eyes  again,  raising  his  brows.  “  If  it  can  be  believed,  we  have  found  as  close  to  a  retirement  as  possible  for  soldiers.  “  At  least  they  had,  before  Ezra  and  their  guilt.  Now  his  mission  for  Thrawn.  “  I  haven’t  heard  any  updates  on  you  as  of  late.  What  have  you  been  doing  ??  “  

Sabine examined Kallus’s face while he spoke, studying how he measured his words and weighed his expressions before speaking to them. There was more he wanted to say, she was sure, but they weren’t about to pry. His words echoed in their ears. We are here for you. 

Dank farrik, Sabine had been stupid. With their wandering about the galaxy with no contact, it was not surprising that Zeb had sent Kallus to check on her. The rest of the Ghost crew, they must be worried. That same feeling of shame boiled in the pit of their stomach, but they smiled to Kallus, nodding as he spoke about her old friend and his people. She knew how difficult it must be for Kallus to be on Lira San, how guilty he must feel. Still, they knew how hard he was trying-- and how much it meant to Zeb that he was there.

“I am...glad to hear you and Zeb are doing well.” She paused, wondering if they should voice their next thought. “You...deserve that, you know. A peaceful life away from the politics and danger of it all. You both do.”

When nothing was said to fill the silence between them, Sabine continued, finally answering the question she had been trying to avoid.

“I guess you haven’t heard from me because I haven’t really been in the action. I’m still with the Rebellion, just not in the heart of the fight. At least, not right now. I’ve been...” They hesitated, knowing that whatever she said would be repeated to her old friend. “I mean, you know how slow it is, trying to chase dead leads on information for the Rebellion. It’s an unreliable business. But, I’m glad you’re settled down now. Your days of action over, right?”

👌 …someone my muse has only met once, but will never forget.

@fearlessenator

Sabine looked quietly down at her shoes, struggling with the memory that presented itself first.

“There was a mission on Lothal once. It was supposed to be easy, just stealing a crate of ammunition from Imps...only, it didn’t turn out that way. Something went wrong, and some civilians got caught in the crossfire.” They paused, catching their breath uneasily in their throat. “There was a kid, not more than 5 or 6 years old. They got hit by Imperial fire. I—I saw them die.”

And Sabine couldn’t help but think that they were, in some part, responsible.

“But hey, those are the kids we’re fighting for, right? To keep that from happening ever again.”

location: mandalore

characters: tarre vizsla, sabine wren, din djarin

finitefm // tarre vizsla

cracks   of   golden   beskar   GLEAMED   under   the   harsh   light   as   they   watched   the   contrasting   pair   of   mandalorians   make   their   way   through   the   ruins   of   the   square.   one,   purely   unadorned   silver   –   the   other,   the   most   eyecatching   burst   of   color   that   they   had   ever   before   seen.   that   alone   would   have   been   enough   to   draw   their   attention   without   the   force   screaming   like   a   JAI’GALAAR   in   their   ears,   a   resounding   call   of   fate   pulling   them   forwards.

the   silhouette   that   had   graced   a   thousand   mandalorian   memorials   stepped   out   of   the   rubble,   a   hand   raised   in   calm   greeting.   they   had   no   darksaber   to   raise,   but   a   blade   lay   sheathed   on   their   hip.   the   shriekhawk   symbol   rested   like   a   crown   on   the   front   of   their   helmet,   their   dark   cape   swaying   behind   them.   they   looked   as   if   they   had   stepped   out   of   a   LEGEND   to   take   physical   form,   and   maybe   they   had   :   tarre   vizsla,   far   from   their   time,   mand’alor   that   was   and   shall   be.

they   stood   where   once   had   been   a   CITY   ,   now   left   for   the   sand   to   reclaim   as   so   many   pieces   of   mandalorian   history   had   been,   preserved   only   in   holos.   it   was   undomed,   no   longer   suitable   for   life,   but   it   had   been   a   home   to   them.   they   had   laid   their   early   plans   here,   had   raised   their   call   for   vengeance   –   the   site   of   the   old   vizsla   compound,   the   old   vizsla   MASSACRE.   they   had   eventually   left   it   abandoned   during   their   lifetime,   privately   named   the   ground   unholy.   battles   had   raged   there.   history   was   made   there.   the   first   true   test   of   their   darksaber.   it   was   a   place   of   memory,   and   it   burned.

but   the   unflinching   metal   of   their   helmet   revealed   nothing   of   the   ache   beneath   their   boots   as   they   came   to   a   stop   in   front   of   the   pair.   ❛   su   cuy’gar,   ❜   they   greeted,   head   tilted   with   curiosity.   ❛   i   had   thought   this   place   FORGOTTEN.   ❜   they   knew   nothing   of   any   remembrance   by   house   vizsla   before   the   purge.   they   had   barely   begun   to   grasp   the   spread   of   their   name.   they   were   simply   glad   to   find   that   they   were   not   ALONE.

.

The pain was overwhelming. Even without an inclination to the Force, the grief filled their bones, pulled the breath from her lungs. The last few days had been...harsh, to say the least. Never had Sabine been more grateful for the friend at their side, for a companion bound by shared creed and skill. A few nights they had traveled, rising by the light of the sun and eating in what privacy and seclusion could be found among the ruins. Guilt filled her every step, shame flooded their senses as she weighed the cost of their actions in the days of the Empire. But that’s what this was about, right? Making peace with the past?

The passage held its own form of healing, like the sting of bacta spray on an open suture. Finally, they were approaching familiar territory, the ruins of their childhood quite literally brought to her feet. Yet, by the light of the suspended star above, a figure stood, dark armor casting shadows across the wasteland. As they drew nearer, the figure rendered itself familiar, a sculpture given life. One memory flashed vivid, a pilgrimage to visit a famed statue with family in tow. The countless times they’d held this visage in sight-- osi’kyr, was this real?

How was this possible? Sure, Sabine didn’t understand much about the Force, but this? This seemed too haamyc to be true. But, who else had this armor? The stature? Shit, how was she supposed to respond? If they were right, then this was none other than--

“Tarre Vizsla? By the Ka’ra...”

Paralyzed with shock, they fell on one knee, head bowed in respect. Hundreds of times she had seen their image, had read their teachings, but this was something else entirely. And, if they were wrong, at least she had her vod to cover her six.

swishycapes​ // Lando Calrissian

most of the spectres didn’t happen to be particularly fond of him, given the way that he had met them all at the beginning –– perhaps not one of his most flawless plan executions, even if it had worked out just fine, as far as he was concerned. still, it did not stop him from lighting up with a wide grin when he recognized one of the youngest, wondering around the halls of the temple, appearing to enjoy theirself. at least she didn’t seem quite as displeased as kanan had been, all things considered.

“always a pleasure to see you again,” lando beamed at them. “of course. then again, I’d argue most little new republic socializers are my scene –– but yes, I put a rather generous donation together for tonight, courtesy of the mining corporation.” no sense in missing out an opportunity to brag, particularly if they still ad a certain impression about him.

It’s been a few since she last saw Lando. Uh, months? Years? Eh, it wasn’t much of a difference anyways. Here they were now, so the two might as well catch up over a drink. Or five!

“Yeah, how is the mining corp..corpor-- the guild? Or is guild a different thing?”

They felt something hot and bitter flash its way up her throat, then swallowed it back down with a look of confusion. Huh. Wonder if anyone had mixed this many alcohols from this many planets before?

“Lamdo, did you hear,” they slurred out in a loud imitation of a whisper, “that someone mixed up the ingredients in the desserts?” They offered him a delicate-looking pastry from a nearby table. “You like to gamble, right?” She muffled a grin for mock seriosity. Serios-- seriousness? Yeah, that was the one.

@beskarbuir​ // din djarin

──   UNEASE  ABIDES  IN  THE  AIR,  so gently thawing but not dispelled,  and there is hesitation toward the outstretched palm.  however,  when the first word is shared between a common  (  yet scarce to many  )  tongue,  he finds himself already gripping theirs in a firm greeting.  he couldn’t help but echo their words,  ❝  su cuy’gar,  vod  …  as do i.  ❞   there is solace in their native salutation,  like water trickling a parched throat.  a beat passes as he stands and observes,  still puzzled by the other’s presence and speculating their origins.   decoration and individualization is frequent within their numbers,  though he hadn’t seen this particular motif.   nor do they follow the markings of bo-katan’s faction,  intricate in their cobalt hues.   the only solid conclusion that arrives is that they are not of the tribe,  not of nevarro  ─  and now only the unexpected is awaited. 

gaze keeps steady on the other’s visor.  ❝  you’re after the bounty,  right ?  ❞   an obvious question,  one intending to draw both a ‘yes’ and an elaboration,  if willing.   he wants to ask,  how long have you been here ?  though it borders on too personal.  do you follow the creed ?  the stories taught to me ?  i know you don’t,  but i had hoped  ─  even if i knew better,  i hoped.  lips purse,  and none of this is spoken.  it never is. 

instead,  he treads forwards with a truth.   ❝  i hadn’t heard of any other within the guild. not for a very long time.  ❞   he would of known,  or heard of remnants at the very least   ─   so why does one stand before him ?

The handshake is firm, and words returned in earnest. Sabine is...attuned to this person’s pain, can feel what hurt lingers in unspoken words. This is an ache she knows all too well. The ghosts of their people haunt every last Mandalorian that lives. While there is a flicker of hope, it sits heavy in the loss. 

There are questions, so many of them, pooling on their tongue, waiting to break the conversation. What clan do you belong to? Who were your people? How did you survive? Do you know anyone else in the faith? They push the inquiries aside, sure the person in front of them wants to ask, too. There is a time and place for that. Those things can be learned later. For now, there are introductions to be made and a bounty secured.

“The bounty, yes. One of the only reasons I’d visit this sandhole, I think,” they joke, and hope it is received well. Of all the weapons in her arsenal, perhaps the most used is humor. “I guess the reason you haven’t heard from the Guild is because I don’t really do my dealings with them.” Sabine weighs what they want to say, careful of where the other Mandalorian’s allegiances lie. “I mean, I follow the code, when I do decide to take a job. But I’m not strictly a hunter by profession. Just something to keep the ship flying and stomach full, you know?”

They pause, watching their acquaintance's body language for any signs of aggression. They notice that this warrior’s armor is pure, practically untarnished by paint and wear. She allows herself to wonder where they got it, and how recently. Was it new, or did they just take meticulous care of it?

“But, I gather this is your profession. Look, I don’t mean to step on any toes-- I can go if you’d like-- but perhaps we could work the job together?”

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

──   A  HIDDEN  SMILE  FLICKERS,  hinted at with the slightest incline of the helm,  likely read with ease.  well  …  he wouldn’t regard tatooine so harshly,  but he’s known the threats of the land and remains gratuitous towards tuskens who had made traversing such a place bearable.   maybe even agreeable,  while in their company.   the hunter takes heed,  carefully considering her words,  noting how she flutters on the topic.   ‘ just something to keep the ship flying and stomach full, you know ? ’  he understands this well  ─  the mutual circumstance of earning their keep.   she spoke more than he would have,  offered more than he would have,  and he tucks that observation away;  the smallest fraction of himself acquiesces to trust.   even so,  half-curled hands at the sides indicate a wariness imprinted upon him over the years. 

at her proposal,  a tongue runs along the back of his teeth,  as if counting.   most similar situations ended with undesired outcomes,  something he’d been extraordinarily unlucky with in recent memory.   however,  the most invaluable allies had been gained through coaction.   din holds her most visible weapons under scrutiny:  a reasonable personal arsenal, though admittedly,  the beskar would be more than enough.   the bounty wasn’t meager,  either,  and the final confrontation had a chance to languish.  a pause is given to measure the odds. 

pragmatism eventually tides suspicion.  ❝  if we did, it’ll be a quick job for both of us.  ❞  they briefly glance to the horizon,  the destination,  the coming pursuit.  ❝   …  even split in earnings,  and there’s a deal.  ❞

The agreement came quickly. Half the credits each, and the bounty was as good as secured. Sabine had even offered to throw in a bottle of spotchka for the other if the target was acquired before sunsdown. After all, hunting didn’t have to be just business. Why not add a little bit of fun to an already interesting situation?

It had taken a little over an hour’s ride to meet the signal on the tracking fob. The near-endless sand wastes led them to a dusty village good for little more than moisture farming and aggrandized storytelling. Still, by the looks of the settlements, the decorations on doors, there seemed to be immigrants from planets all across the galaxy. It was a good place for refugees to hide out without prying eyes (even the ex-ISB agent they were looking for). Sabine felt a jolt of unease at the size of the town. She really didn’t like endangering innocents if it could be avoided. 

As they trekked through a bustling marketplace, Sabine couldn’t help but notice the stares the two attracted. No doubt one Mandalorian in this corner of the planet was a rarity, let alone two. She was used to these looks, the glares accumulated from childhood on. From the painted beskar’gam to their ever-changing hair (now concealed neatly beneath a similarly colorful helmet), it was easy to draw attention. For just a moment, they wondered if the other warrior felt the same way, if attention hounded at his heels no matter where they traveled. In her experience, it was far easier to be alone. Not just easier, but safer. Still, there was a job to finish (and perhaps an allyship to be formed).

“Time to get to work. You happen to know the area any better than I do, by chance?”