If he hadn’t been a kid, she probably would have answered his question with her blasters. Mandalorians were unwelcome in the galaxy those days, ever since the Empire had outlawed their mercenary practice and occupied her home-world of Mandalore. The few who still roamed the stars were usually armored impostors, which SABINE WREN was not.
If he hadn’t been a kid, she probably would have answered his question with her blasters. Mandalorians were unwelcome in the galaxy those days, ever since the Empire had outlawed their mercenary practice and occupied her home-world of Mandalore. The few who still roamed the stars were usually armored impostors, which SABINE WREN was not.
If he hadn’t been a kid, she probably would have answered his question with her blasters. Mandalorians were unwelcome in the galaxy those days, ever since the Empire had outlawed their mercenary practice and occupied her home-world of Mandalore. The few who still roamed the stars were usually armored impostors, which SABINE WREN was not.
If he hadn’t been a kid, she probably would have answered his question with her blasters. Mandalorians were unwelcome in the galaxy those days, ever since the Empire had outlawed their mercenary practice and occupied her home-world of Mandalore. The few who still roamed the stars were usually armored impostors, which SABINE WREN was not.
why is revamping blogs so hard tho
@conspiirator ❤’d for a starter!
“Maketh — I have some extra dye, if you still want me to color your hair for you...?”
❛ — your hair… it is… unique. beautiful coloring, truly! which is why it would be a shame if i were made to REMOVE it –- along with the rest of your HEAD. ❜
&& the taunting tone of mock-sympathy matches the pitying tilt of his head. had he had eyebrows of some form, they would be furrowed over the poor little girl — all ALONE and cornered in the DARK with nothing but the finest monsters here. this pity cannot be spoken for in his body actions — not when the edge of the crimson blade inches dangerously closer to her neck.
“Should I really take that as a COMPLIMENT?” For it is truly hard to tell ——— what, with the mocking tone and the crimson blade SO CLOSE? Her head tips back, posture RIGID. “Your actions here are making it a little HARD to take any pleasure in your words. But thank you, I guess ———— I’d offer to do the same for YOU, but you seem to be lacking in that AREA.”
I hopped on this bandwagon once, so I’m gonna do it again with a shiny little banner. BASICALLY, liking this means - as long as we’re mutuals - I can toss you a starter, send memes, continue memes, etc. at any time, and it’ll be 100% chill! This will all be done within reason, of course, as I don’t wish to overwhelm anyone involved.
Call it a feeling, intuition… experience, or the force. No matter the reasoning, it had been idly stirring in the back of Kanan’s mind since the crew had split up. A nagging sensation that had told him to backtrack, to loop around, recheck things ——— maybe it was to make certain everything for their escape was set up and ready to go ( at least a portion of his plan could go right, ) or maybe it had been worry. Hera and Sabine were always the first two he was concerned with. Ezra usually managed to get swooped up by Zeb if he needed to be, and Zeb was pretty capable of handling himself. Not that the girls weren’t ——— Hera could put him in his place, and Sabine was tough enough all on her own. It was just the way he was. A worrier by nature.
A soft, relieved exhale parted lips, then… finger easing up on the trigger of the blaster in hand, as she spoke. He’d assumed the route back would be relatively uncrowded ——— it was safe to let his guard down, at least a little. To allow himself a sparse moment just to untense his shoulders before he focused again, on the mission at hand. Comms were still jammed… not that it mattered much, he could already assume he knew what Hera would be yelling through them. Exactly the same thing Sabine had just been bringing up ——— a worry, telling him to hurry up and get back, and threatening to leave them both behind, though in jest. The crew was too close for that… they cared about one another too much. It was together or not at all.
They were a family.
❝ Lost comm signals just as I got back to Ghost… Told her I was doubling back. ❞
( I was worried about you. )
Silence had been deafening, then ——— the inevitable truth that things had gone awry… once again. His plans had failed, and there wasn’t much in terms of back up to lean back on. It had always been this way… it had always been true that in the end, it was Kanan’s plan that had gone bad. That it was his fault. Someday something would go worse than just ‘bad’ and it would be his fault. Much like it had been his fault that Master Billaba had died ——— he wonders, fleetingly, if he would run, then, too. Probably. Once you were a coward, you were always a coward. There had been a dense ache in the vagabond’s chest, then ——— breath suddenly becoming harder to inhale, but he played it off, paid no mind to the anxiety resting in the back of his mind. Instead, a hand rose, cupping the butt of his blaster before he was once more speaking up.
❝ Come on, I’ll watch your back. ❞
A cold feeling spread through her chest, and if she had less composure, she would have shivered from it. “I would’ve made it back without you,” she said, and it sounded like whining to her own ears, but she could work with that. “I was going to head back as soon as....” As soon as what? Shoulders straightening out, her hands came to rest on her hips, head cocked to the side. “I was going to head back as soon as the coast was clear. I was —— I was just on my way when you came back.”
She wondered if everyone who turned their back on loved ones felt like this; felt like their tongue was held down by the weight of its own lies, felt as though their heart was going to burst from their chest and remain rendered useless upon the floor. There was the brief thought of that being useful —— if her heart would rip free from the confines of her chest, then maybe the pounding in her ears would lessen, she could think and not panic. The fingers of her right hand twitched against their resting place, and she dug them into her hip to stifle them, to give herself a little action to keep GROUNDED.
But something clicked then —— whether it was the small, flashing lights of the explosives or her heart hardening enough to give her strength, she couldn’t tell —— and she slowly shook her head, hands slowly lowering from her hips to fall back by her sides.
“I don’t NEED you to watch my back.” And the cold feeling came back in a fresh wave, chilling her to her very core, but this time, she welcomed it, held onto it and used it to push herself forward. She would admit, though — she was thankful for the safety of her helmet, (undoubtedly nervous looking) features hidden behind a literal mask so any fears, any DOUBTS couldn’t be seen.
Her fingers twitched by the holster of her blaster pistol, and she lifted her head so she could look directly at him, focusing only on HIM —— not the lights blinking, not the ticking moments ticking by until the explosives went off. Just on him. The heavy blanket of guilt lifted itself from her shoulders, and finally, she continued, arm lifting just enough for her hand to secure a grip on the pistol at her right, and she removed it from the holster, though she didn’t raise it YET. “I’m not coming with you, Kanan. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and LEAVE.”
It’s hard to say at what time down the line, they’d gotten separated… it happened, from time to time. Plans gone awry ( almost always — Hera made certain Kanan knew it was his fault, ) and sometimes improvising wasn’t as smooth as one would like. So with blaster drawn, finger resting on the trigger, the other hand reached for the comm device at his hip…——— only to be rewarded with static. That’s when the panic set in, because it wasn’t your regular jammed comm static… it was familiar, like an EMP static. But he hadn’t cleared the need for them this time around… though, now wasn’t the time to focus on thoughts, he’d need to formulate yet another plan. They were split up into two groups, Kanan’s lacking both spectre four and spectre five.
After shooting off a set of orders for those remaining with him ( thus beginning the spew of arguments that he, as usual, shut down, ) ——— the Jedi doubled back, aware that there was only one exit that was safe enough to get out of without running into more trouble than it was worth, and… well, because he was pretty stupid sometimes. He refused to leave without hisfamilycrew, and if they were in trouble, if they needed him ——— he would be there, regardless of how the outcome affected him. Sometimes… sometimes sacrifice was necessary. Other lives were of a greater worth than your own ——— that, was the Jedi way.
With blaster bolts and the Force, Kanan had barreled himself through quite a few sets of Stormtroopers from corridor to corridor, without once drawing his saber ( which would have made things easier, admittedly. ) Then after a few various sharp turns ——— he was pretty sure he was in the clearing. It hadn’t looked like he’d find any other unwanted visitors in his path, and he focused primarily on finding Zeb and Sabine, which as easier said than done. Still sprinting, steadily beginning to pant for air, he wasn’t sure how much time past since he left the others… a minute? Three minutes? Five minutes? It hadn’t mattered much, because he’d gone running past another open corridor before stopping himself and backpedaling.
Relieved, at the sight… and speaking through multiple desperate breaths of air, as he holstered his blaster. Hoping he wouldn’t be needing it again.
❝ Hey, where’s Zeb? Hera and the others are already on board the Ghost, we need to get moving before they call in another group of reinforcements. ❞
If there was one thing that Sabine could continuously count on, it was Kanan’s plans failing. Not that the failures were enjoyable, but for the time being, she would take them; distractions were needed for this, especially if she wanted it to go off without a hitch. There came a time in every person’s life where they decided who they needed to be; whether they needed to go down the right path expected of them, or they right path for them. That time had arrived for Sabine not too long ago, the time she’d made up her own mind for a change; the crew was nice. They were welcoming of ex-Imperial scum. But they weren’t her family. They weren’t anything to her but a free ride and a place to stay, in truth. The academy, the Empire... it had all been a nightmare. But being on this side, the supposed right side, it was worse. Besides; once Imperial scum, always Imperial scum. She’d take it.
Comms jammed, she and Zeb separated from the rest of the crew — it was ideal. Blaster pistols secured at her sides, explosives lined against her belt, she kept pace with the Lasat at her side. She hadn’t intended to open fire, lest she draw more interest to them — to her — but the road to victory wasn’t paved with intentions (whether they be good or bad), and she’d turned on her heel, blasters out to take down their pursuers. “Zeb, go on!” She said, gesturing back with one wide swoop of her arm. “I’m falling back; gotta make sure no more of these bucketheads are following us.” Whether or not he left or not, she couldn’t say; she’d bolted before she’d even taken the time to look. Quick, heavy footfalls carried her back to a corridor they had run past, and she slipped in, quickly setting to work. Blowing out a breath against the inside of her helmet, she removed one explosive from her belt, tossing it up to rest just inside an open vent. There were enough distractions on hand, and she knew it; Imperials all aboard, Kanan’s failed plan, but one more diversion never killed anyone. Trigger for the explosive in her hand, she made quick work of tossing another explosive to the opposite side of the corridor, she began backing up, ready to bolt for an escape pod and leave. Likely no one would get hurt, no one would die, and she could just leave without stirring up too much wonder as to where she was. At best, she could be assumed dead, and the whole situation would be easier for everyone. The sound of Kanan’s voice sent her posture rigid, and she turned on her heel, thankful for the mask of the helmet to shield the surprise on her features. Slowly, carefully, she tucked the trigger into her holster, wedged securely between her blaster and the container itself.
“I sent Zeb on ahead to the ship,” she said. “I fell back to take out some of our buddies to make sure we weren’t getting followed anymore. I was just on my way back...” The lies were what she wanted, but they tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be back with them, too? Hera’s going to worry...”
"six word story" Just fuck me up here also.
“I’ll be back,” he had told her before he departed, and she had no reason to believe otherwise. She trusted Ezra and she had no doubts that he’d soon return home to her and the rest of the crew. So she waited. And waited. And then waited some more. But he never returned. Though she tried to do otherwise, Sabine worried. Worried that something had happened, worried that Ezra had been captured or —
NO.
It wasn’t an option.
But months went by, and there were no signs of Ezra. Hope was lost, it seemed — not that there was much hope to begin with.Around the one year mark, Sabine left the Ghost crew.They had become her family, and there was nothing that could change that. But Ezra was still missing, and that was very bad. A family wasn’t complete when it was missing a member, and Sabine fully planned on finding him. Sabine had her doubts, though; doubts about whether or not Ezra was alive. It was hard to ignore the voice in the back of her mind, screaming EZRA BRIDGER IS DEAD and other vile, untrue things. So she went back to her roots. She had given up everything she had known before joining the Rebellion. But those roots that she had abandoned could be used heavily to her advantage; bounty hunting was in her blood; perhaps not by birth but by culture and she would embrace it. She specialized in tracking Jedi. A learned skill that she had taken great care to hone. She was good, too; but not good enough to find Ezra, it seemed. But Sabine wasn’t one to give up; she kept fighting, and it seemed like that had made her fit right in with the rest of the Ghost crew. She wouldn’t give up until she found him, until she could bring him home. It had been Y E A R S. And Sabine, though she refused to quit, was growing weary. Jedi were few and far between; how hard could it possibly be to find the ONE she was looking for? Other contracts in between kept her fresh, on her feet; but the Jedi contracts were what mattered. Four years. Countless contracts. No sign of Ezra. Another year gone, several more contracts taken. Bounties collected with swears in Mando’a, swears returned in languages they must have assumed she didn’t understand, for when she laughed, their confusion showed. She would ignore it, though; the task was more important than their thoughts about her.The pay was good. The work was fulfilling. But her mission wasn’t complete. Five years. Countless contracts. No sign of Ezra. A new contract. Jedi.Quick as always, Sabine took it up, making quick work to arrive at the destination. Helmet situated properly to keep her face hidden from the general public, face hidden from her target, she navigated through the crowd. Fast-paced, quick as a flash, Sabine took the higher ground, scoping out the area below. Target locked in; uneasy gait through the uneasy crowd, and she made quick work in removing herself from the building, feet landing on solid ground — face past, heartbeat quicker than she’d have liked. He would sense her coming, she knew — Jedi always knew. Which meant working faster. Feet hitting against the ground, movement kept in pace with the Jedi before her, and Sabine launched forward, fingers curling against the back of the tunic, gripping the Jedi and smacking his back against the side of the nearest building. Helmet still down, Sabine looked into the face of her target, bracing herself for the surge of defense that was likely to happen. But then, taking in those features — the scars just below his eye, the color of his eyes, that general familiarity, Sabine — for the first time in years simply STOPPED. “Su cuy'gar.” It was said in a hushed tone, disbelief thick throughout.Five years. Countless contacts. Ezra was alive.
