Beroyafett​ // Jango Fett

skywalkerxlegacy​ // Luke Skywalker

The  human  talking  to  Mando  was  not  someone  that  Luke  was  familiar  with.  His  head  is  cloudy,  his  thought  in  a  haze.  One  hand  holds  the  brownie  in  his  hand  and  the  other  holds  a  glass  of  some  bubbly  liquid.  He  doesn’t  think  it’s  champagne,  as  it  looked  nothing  like  the  glass  he’d  had  with  Leia  earlier.  It’s  colored  and  he  takes  a  sip.  It’s  surprisingly  smooth  down  his  throat.  “  Who  are  you?  “  he  questioned,  looking  at  the  colored  hair.  His  brows  are  raised.  He  wouldn’t  normally  be  so  blunt,  but  he’s  curious  about  who  his  friend  is  spending  time  with.  It  shouldn’t  matter,  really,  but  it  does.  “  I’m  Luke.  “  

@call-me-spectre-five​ 

Kriff, she was so glad that their friends had dragged her to this ridiculous party. It seemed so uptight and stuffy at the time, but now? Now she was surrounded by drinks and having the time of her life! It was only a few minutes after eating one of the brightly-colored desserts on display that Sabine noticed the man she had only heard rumors about, approaching them with a pointed gaze. A giggle escaped her lips at the question-- of course she knew who he was!

“‘m Sabine! Sabine Wren. Pleasure to--” hiccup “-- to meet you, Luke.” 

They caught a server droid passing by and grabbed two drinks off the tray, offering one to the man in front of her. 

“I fucking love your...” they paused, trying to form the words on her tongue (it felt so loose. that was weird, right?) “I love your outfit!”

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.

l  closed starter  l  @mvchinery​

The library was more expansive than they’d imagined. Shelves towering high with data, information to borrow and return. Most things were stored electronically, but others were actual physical copies. There were whole sections devoted to the Clone Wars, the rise and fall of the Empire. Another just on the history of the Old Republic. It was a wonder to wander; a feat that almost rivaled the archives of Sundari on their home planet of Mandalore. So enthralled in the grand design of this house of knowledge was Sabine that they felt the collision before they saw it.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” She scrambled to pick up any fallen materials before meeting the stranger’s gaze. Something in her demeanor caught their attention, but they couldn’t quite place what. It was just recognizable to prompt the question, but not enough to draw a name. “I’m sorry, but you look familiar. Do I know you?”

“Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer.“

Fingers itched to grasp the vibroblade at her waist, but paused. Of all of their interactions, this was the closest Sabine had come to an actual threat of violence. To hatred-- pure and unadulterated.

“Trust, Armitage, that when you join the silence of my ancestors, no one will mourn you, let alone notice your departure. Despite all your efforts to be remembered, no one will feel joy or pain or heartbreak, because no one will have cared enough about your life to waste the energy.”

Anger read cleanly across their face, cool and unwavering. Motionless.

“At least I have a family, even if they are ghosts. Can you really say the same?”

@generally-scheming

@cptfulcrum​ // Alexsandr Kallus

Kallus  wouldn’t  pull  his  own  weapon  on  them,  just  a  small  blaster,  something  that  he  felt  more  comforted  when  he  had  on  his  hip.  Just  another  Imperial  regulation  that  he  had  never  quite  slipped  out  of.  He  didn’t  carry  on  Lira  San.  But  now  that  he  had  slowly  been  working  outside  of  the  planet,  he  felt  the  need  to.  Especially  now  that  he  had  actively  started  tracking  Grand  Admiral  Thrawn.  But  he  knew  the  Mandalorian  understood  the  need  for  a  weapon.  He  watched  closely,  waiting  for  a  moment  where  Sabine’s  dominant  arm  would  aim  to  fire.  Thankfully,  it  never  happened.  His  shoulders  relaxed  slightly,  though  their  question  had  him  pause.  

His  own  justification  was  that  Zeb  was  worried  about  Sabine  but  trusted  her  too  much  to  actually  do  anything  about  his  worry.  He  didn’t  want  to  admit  that  he  was  worried  too,  worried  about  all  of  the  Spectres.  The  loss  of  Ezra  had  hit  them  all  hard,  just  after  getting  him  back.  “  Like  I  said,  we  were  concerned.  “  he  replied,  stepping  closer  now  that  their  weapon  was  holstered.  “  I  was  in  the  area.  Zeb  was  not.  “  the  area  was  a  very  vague  statement,  vague  enough  that  he  didn’t  have  to  explain  that  he  wasn’t  on  Lira  San  and  that’s  why  it  was  easier  for  him  than  her  fellow  Spectre.  “  I  thought  it  would  assuage  his  worries  if  he  knew  I  saw  you.  “  it  would  lessen  his  own,  certainly.  

Sabine  could,  without  a  doubt,  take  care  of  any  situation  that  arrived.  But  this  wasn’t  something  able  to  be  handled.  It  was  the  death  of  someone  very  close  to  them  all.  It  wasn’t  as  simple  as  planting  a  bomb  or  shooting  a  blaster.  He  wished  it  was.  “  You  should  come  visit.  I  know  Zeb  misses  you.  “  

She stood still, rooted to the spot by the mention of her friend’s name. It was a punch to the gut, an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Sabine had left Zeb (and so many others) in the dark for weeks, months now. They didn’t mean to cause any pain. She just needed time, distance away from everyone. It had always been easier to figure things out alone.

When situations started to tense and sour at home, Sabine had joined the Imperial Academy. When she realized just what they were using her for, they had defected into the Rebellion. Even after the Ghost crew had given them a home, a real family, she had left. And, here she was, running again.

At last they shifted their weight uneasily, heavy with guilt and shame.

“Thank you. I-I should have reached out sooner, I just...” needed to do this on my own, she wanted to say. But instead, they let the words hang in the air, taking up the uneasy space between the two. 

“I’m fine, Kallus. I appreciate you coming out here and all, but really, I’m good.” She stepped forward, stance relaxed now that they knew they were in the presence of a friend, not an enemy. Instead of expressing the emotions gnawing at her inside, they attempted to make light of the conversation.

“What are you and Zeb up to these days, anyways?”

@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?”

cravked​ // trilla suduri

there was a natural spark of curiosity that arose as a result of their statement. asking would have been inviting in more conversation, given the other room to ask perhaps more personal questions about herself, which was truthfully what trilla was trying to avoid. there was no reason for her to have anything against them, even if relatively minor judgments naturally slipped in here and there. but at least thus far, they have proved capable of deterring anything unwanted.

“what kind of information are you looking for? i might be able to point you in the right direction.” that was very unlikely. trilla hadn’t been on the planet long and did not intend to stay on it for much longer, only knew enough to keep herself blending in and without drawing undue attention. still, the curiosity was there, and there was no reason for sabine to know otherwise. lying was something that there were too good at.

the offer was unexpected, although trilla had already given them a ride to an extent. a few minutes to town wasn’t exactly equivocal to somewhere off world, especially in terms of time spent together. “i have a ship of my own,” she answered with a simple shrug of her left shoulder. “that’s not really an offer you should go around making.” the words are harsh by themself, a beat passing before they added, “given your apparent lack of direction.”

.

And here was the fork in the road, the other shoe dropped. Sabine bit the inside of their cheek, the question of whether or not to reveal true alliances a weight on her tongue. She wondered about the biases Trilla held about her-- of course, the armor and its heritage carried assumptions (and they weren’t always positive; more than one scar could attest to that). Sabine resolved that the truth may as well will out this one. If there was going to be a fight, the Mandalorian trusted their instinct. Knew her skills.

“I’ve been tracking the remains of old Imperial intelligence units-- hard to pin them down, but worth a great reward to the New Republic.” Okay, so it wasn’t the full truth. It wasn’t for bounty that she worked, but for something else. For redemption. No, it was loyalty to a shared vision created by the sacrifices they and so many others had made. For the Spectres. For Mandalore. But the admittance answered enough in its words alone.

Then, at the half-insult--

“Hey, you just caught me on an off day. I knew where I was going, I just got a shit bike rental. Happens to the best of us.” Again, the Mando suspected that the person sitting across from her didn’t seem like the type to ask for assistance, but hey, they’d been wrong before. And it never hurt to return politeness to strangers, especially if there was any chance she’d run into them in the galaxy again. “If that ever changes-- if you decide you want or need help-- I’d be grateful to fulfill the debt.”

Sabine awaited their reaction in its totality, watched the direction hands travelled and eyes wandered. The next move was Trilla’s to make. Sabine felt no need to reach for the blasters or hidden vibroblades yet, but that could easily change. 

@spectreoflasan​ // Zeb Orrelios

“I am cool,” Zeb snapped. “You know what’s not cool? Karking up your guts before it’s even hit kriffing midnight because you don’t know how to hold your liquor.” Karabast, he’s going to have to set a good example, isn’t he. With once last wistful glance at the mutlicolored and very potent-looking drink in their hand, Zeb slid it down the bar to the person on their other side and grumbled, “Knock yourself out, mate. You! Barkeep! Two waters, now.” Zeb’s gruff edge lingered as he turned back to Sabine. “Now hydration, that’s cool. You want to actually enjoy your drinks? Then pace yourself.”

Oh, for the love of Alderaan. ‘Hydration, that’s cool’ ?  Zeb had never felt so old in their kriffing life. But that’s what Sabine needed right now. Guilt twisted his stomach as they stumbled against him. Hadn’t Zeb’s lousy excuse for a parallel-timeline counterpart bothered to teach her to drink properly? Zeb set a steadying hand on Sabine’s shoulder, even as their last comment provoked a growl. “And for the last time, Kallus is not my boyfriend. ‘Sides, he’s in no state to be looking after anybody right now.”

“I w-would hold my liquor fine! If you would give it back to me!” They yelped as he pawed her reaching hand away. (Heh. Pawed). They shot the bartender a nasty glare and tried standing on her own. Feet felt like lead and head too thin, and the metal of the counter dug into their skin. 

“Zebbbbb, don’t you think I deserve a drink after the shit year I’ve had?! W-why not! Why not get fuck-king shitfaced?” She huffed. This had to be a joke. First all of the-- the shit! The shit with Ezra and Kanan and Mandalore, and-- and it hurt! It hurt and it was scary and it made her hands shake and her chest tight and!  And they just wanted it to mute, just for a moment! Moisture pooled at their eyes as Zeb spoke, as they responded. At his words, her face fell immediately, turning from anger and fear to...to something that ached deeper. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

“Wh-what do you mean he isn’t your boyfriend? Did. Did something happen?”

 @cravked​ // trilla suduri

a life of solitude was something that trilla had gotten used to with the last two years, alone on the outer rim, staying as far away from society and individuals as she could. there had still been some necessary trips to markets for supplies that she needed; it had been a sharp learning curve to life as an imperial where all of her basic needs were met, just as they had been in the jedi order. when she hadn’t isolated herself, it had not been a problem. her skillset left her particularly capable of making money when she needed it, capable of mercenarial jobs that… the average person just could not accomplish on their own. she’d been among the best as a padawan, and learned so much more when training as an inquisitor. her arrogance had never failed her: she was capable of anything she set her mind to.

still, after all of that time, isolation had remained to be somewhat easier. maybe it was because of how sour things had gone with cal, or the fact that the others that she had run into had left her feeling less than about herself. quiet spaces away from people was what she needed, but she was still trying to follow the call of the force, to allow herself to be more than the darkness that had eaten her up for so long. much of it had faded. trilla found herself bathed in light more than dark these days, paranoia being the main thing to set her back. she ached for isolation, but the force continued to guide her in another direction, to tell her no. stumbling upon this stranger was just one of many instances that seemed to serve as proof for the idea.

trilla’s gaze fell upon them in the distance, debating with herself for a few minutes before she approached. she still maintained a modest distance when she spoke to her. “i can’t imagine that you’re accomplishing much out here.” her voice was cool and neutral as she spoke, chin held high even as the other’s seated position forced her gaze down to look upon them.

Sabine noticed a figure slowly approaching her from the distance, seemingly making right for the Mandalorian and their broken transport. They sat uneasily astride the speeder, working nimbly at all of the complexities of the machine before them. She made sure to note where their blasters were at the moment (just in case trouble arose). She looked up as, after a few minutes, the stranger stopped some distance away. They made a short comment about the bike, and without turning away from the interloper’s gaze, Sabine stifled a laugh, short and bark-like. 

“Y’know, it would go a lot faster if I didn’t have someone griping about my work to distract me.”

Sabine realized that their words may have been harsh, but it was a lonely galaxy, and they knew not to trust everyone that came up to them with a blaster on their hip and a half-cocked expression of smugness on their face. Still, this approaching stranger seemed...different, somehow. They couldn’t place how, only that they seemed just as wearisome a traveler as herself. This person didn’t seem to want to bring harm or tension, to either of them. In fact, they seemed just as uncertain as the Mandalorian felt. Maybe that’s why, instead of offering a belittling quip or turning them away, she extended a handheld soldering tool to the newcomer. 

“But, I will take your help, if that’s what you’re offering.” They paused, and flashed a small smile. “But only if I knew who was so generously concerned with the state of this busted piece of scrap metal.”

mandalorians lost // a selfpara in which sabine finds paz among the chaos

cw: mention of injuries/bleeding

There wasn’t much time left to lose. The Mandalorian’s one ally (could they even call Hux that?) since this whole mess had started was no doubt rooms away by now, and she had little hope they’d see him again. But that was okay. It had to be, because there was no other choice. Because now they knelt in front of another who bore the same beskar, a faceless stranger she couldn’t hope to recognize.

He was injured, that much she could tell. At first, they saw nothing worse than the regular scrapes and cuts she’d sustained themself. But he wasn’t moving. They reached toward his neck to feel for a pulse, but to her horror, Sabine’s hand came back slick with blood. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. She’d lost too much to watch him die, too. They had no clue who he was, but it couldn’t happen. They wouldn’t let it happen.

With a gentle touch, she removed the helm that was supposed to protect him from harm, supposed to help him carry on the legacy she’d nearly destroyed. Instead, they found a man (barely a decade older than herself), bleeding heavily on his right side. But, miracle of miracles, he was breathing. There was still a chance. Though, with this thought, something in the floor shook and careened, and they gritted their teeth in frustration. It wasn’t safe here. Tired though she was, Sabine grabbed the other Mandalorian and dragged him into a nearby corridor. They clung to the conviction of hope like a lifeline, like a snare.

Working quickly, they tore off pieces from the ruined train of her dress, folding fabric and holding it against the wound on his temple. What they wouldn’t fucking give for proper medical supplies right now. But, as her family had taught Sabine since birth, a Mandalorian made do. For moments, maybe hours (there was no accounting for the passage of time anymore), Sabine sat at this stranger’s side, pressing into the wound (even after it had slowed and stopped its bleeding) and praying to the unseen Ka’ra above. Thank the Force, or the Manda or whatever the fuck was keeping them alive, but the injury didn’t look deep enough to warrant serious attention. 

Just as they noticed a flutter in his eyelids Sabine heard the heavy footsteps of another approaching, and they had no way of telling if it was friend or foe. In a moment of clarity, the young Mandalorian knew what they had to do. Kneeling over his bloodied frame, Sabine muttered a quick prayer to their ancestors (a litany long used for children of Mandalore seeking a path to peace and safety). She left in his hands a long, jagged shard of glass they’d found among the ruins, and took into her own the remains of some twisted metal sculpture. There was no more she could do for this vod than lead the fire away from him. 

Some moments later, Paz Vizsla awoke for the first time in his life, fully vulnerable, his helmet lost among the burning rubble around him.