𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 ⠀ [ mandalorian + ranbooisms ]

[lys.]

god, i wish that you had thought this through

before ⠀ i ⠀ went ⠀ and ⠀ fell ⠀ in ⠀
love ⠀ with ⠀ you ⠀…

a one x one between mandalorian & ranbooisms

[mandalorian]

xxxxxxx𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺 ﹠ 🇧​🇩​﹣₁! 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲!
xxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

When Cal had made the decision to destroy the Holocron, apart of him hoped that it would result in the Empire laying off his back. With the list of force-sensitive children gone, Cal and the crew of the Mantis had been travelling throughout the galaxy to attempt to answer a few questions; where is Eno Cordova, and what happened to the Zeffo people? If they were going to make a difference, they could do so without bringing back the Jedi order.

Unfortunately, for what felt like (and was) months now, he'd been hunted down and chased by what he'd consider to be some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. The worst part of it was being able to see how they were led astray; Inquisitors such as Trilla, taken from their homes and turned into monsters.

Perhaps monster was an overstatement. People could be monsters, but that would assume they retained no sense of original identity. Despite the dark side taking over, Cal had proof that people would never truly be monsters ─ Trilla proved that much to him.

Yet, it seemed to only be Trilla for now. She seemed to be the only person (thus far) who had laid up their arms, even if it resulted in her death, unknowingly to her. Cal would be lying if he said the look of horror on her face before her death hadn't kept him up at night. Her last words, "avenge us!", had only done similar. He knew Cere felt the grief worse than him, and yet, it still stung.

Facing Inquisitors after that was never easy.

Cal had to admit he felt some level of confidence after facing Darth Vader and living to tell the tale ── he managed to land a blow on Darth Vader, for crying out loud ── and dealing with Inquisitors physically was fine. Emotionally, a toll was always taken.

But he'd gotten better at figuring out when he's being followed. The cold wind of the planet blows against him, Zeffo is always a bit annoying to deal with. The icy temperature makes his cheeks flush with stinging warmth, eyes narrowing; he has his hood flipped up over his head, and yet it still manages to bite through. That much is annoying.

His hand moves to his hip, fingers wrapping around the handle of his weapon. With one fluid motion, he raises it into the air; the beam is long, extending from both sides. On ignition, an orange glow fills the air around him. Slowly, carefully, he'd begin to roll his fingers along the handle. The handle twists with his motions, and the saber turns with his hand. "Who's there?" Rings out clearly throughout the mountain top, and he sets a foot back, stance defensive.

[lys.]

𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐍
________________________________________________
who ⠀ i’ve ⠀ become ⠀ is ⠀ not ⠀ who ⠀ i ⠀ want ⠀ to ⠀ be ⠀. . .

spacer

when he was forcibly taken from the scrapper guild on bracca, everything changed. the scrapper guild had become something akin to a family, his fellow riggers his closest friends, and to be ripped from what he had known, and put into a situation he’s entirely unfamiliar with, was terrifying. up until the point when he was taken, he hadn’t even known he was forced sensitive…he hadn’t had any training and was defenseless against those who did. the empire made sure to give him the training he lacked - and it was brutal and cruel. they turned him into something he’d never wanted to be. a monster. and he’d had no choice. it was that or death, and nobody had come looking for him. he lost hope a long time ago.

his newest assignment was something he was given to prove himself. to show that training him was worthwhile, and that he could be a valuable asset to the empire and it’s goals. despite his original reluctance to bend to them, eventually his resistance had worn thin and he’d come to terms with what he’s become. now he knows nothing else, and desperate to prove himself, he’d readily accepted the assignment given to him - track down another force sensitive and take him into custody. it seems simple enough…but he knows that not everything is as it seems, and there’s no telling how strong the force sensitive could be. zeffo is a colder planet, colder than he’s used to, but judging by the information they have so far, it’s where the force sensitive he’s hunting currently is.

but wren has become ruthless, especially in his hunting, and he knows that there is no predicting how this could go. he’s no longer the vulnerable, untrained young man he once was - under the empire’s tutelage he has grown in strength and talent with the dark side of the force, a formidable opponent. with the comforting weight of his lightsaber at his hip, the snow crunches underneath his boots as he steps off the ship, his gaze surveying the planet around him. he’s thankful that he’d decided to wear warmer attire, which shields him from the worst of the biting winds.

the hunt will take time. he has to be careful - being discovered too early could mean failure, and failure is something wren cannot afford. he has confidence in his abilities and training, but now it’s up to him not to screw this up.

once he finds him, he keeps an okay distance between the two of them, content to follow the other force sensitive for a little bit until he’s confident enough the odds are in his favor, conscious of his lightsaber at his hip, within reach should he need it at a moment’s notice. after a few moments of following, he realizes that the other force sensitive has noticed his presence - just as he’d felt his the moment he’d stepped onto zeffo. his voice rings out clearly throughout the mountain top, and there’s the orange glow of a lightsaber as it’s ignited.

silently, wren drops down from where he was perched, his gaze locked on the other. he takes his own lightsaber in hand, and the glow from the red kyber crystal is warm against the still biting winds. yet something about the other is familiar, somehow. he just can’t quite figure out what. “if you come willingly, perhaps i will spare your life.”

[mandalorian]

xxxxxxx𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺 ﹠ 🇧​🇩​﹣₁! 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲!
xxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Cal has not thought of Bracca since he'd escaped the scrapper guild planet. It was apart of his history that chilled him to contemplate ─ the loss of so many friends, living in fear. He hadn't been doing much with his life back then, and now here he was, making an actual difference in the world. It just had to take the loss of people he cared about to jumpstart his realization that he would never be truly safe.

So it was best to do something while he could, instead of standing aside and letting the Empire dictate his life for him.

BD-1 on Cal's shoulder gives a defensive beep while watching the other jump down, both their attention's briefly going to the ignited lightsaber. The red kyber crystals are always enough to chill Cal more than he already is.

He recognizes the other man's position immediately ─ another inquisitor. Judging by his words, no doubt he was sent to kill Cal, and that's enough to make him shrug. He lowers his saber only briefly, extending his arms as a sort of 'come and get me' gesture. "Don't attempt to fool me. The holocron is gone, the only thing the empire wants is me dead."

BD-1 gives another beep from his shoulder, a higher one this time, no doubt questioning his intentions. He glances at the small robot on his shoulder, a soft breath falling between his lips. There's an icy puff that forms from the contact with the chilled air. The poncho and hoodie, alongside his saber, are the only things really giving him warmth at the moment.

"Don't worry, BD-1. I got this," He says, no louder than a hushed whisper between the two of them. The robot shifts its weight down to press into Cal's shoulder, eyeing the Inquisitor in front of them, but doesn't give any other noises in response. Truth be told, neither of them expected a fight between Cal and an Inquisitor today -- the most he'd expected was taking down the typical troopers that would attempt to stop him.

They were easy to fight, Purge Troopers less so. Inquisitors were enough to get him uneasy, even after he'd barely managed to defeat the Ninth Sister and Trilla. They were much more powerful than him, with training that prepared them for circumstances such as these. Cal's training itself was limited, only expanding with what Cere was willing to give, and what he'd learn from mistakes time and time again. He'd been so close to death, various times now, thanks to the Empire.

He may not have been planning on fighting Inquisitors today, but that can be changed. His plan on not dying, however ─ that's not one that would be wavered so easily. He took a deep breath, feeling as his lungs expand with bitter air. His words come out strong, a demand more so than a question; "who are you? And why, really, are you here?"

[lys.]

𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐍
________________________________________________
who ⠀ i’ve ⠀ become ⠀ is ⠀ not ⠀ who ⠀ i ⠀ want ⠀ to ⠀ be ⠀. . .

spacer

sith lightsabers are more unstable than those of the jedi - if the other force sensitive in front of him could really be called a jedi. it is why the kyber crystals are red, their blades unstable and often crackling. he remembers the power he had felt, taking his lightsaber, constructed by hand, and using it during his training for the first time. it has become an easy extension of his arm, and now he wields it with familiarity and ease. he’d trained hard to become an inquisitor…and has taken over for those who came before him. there is a droid on the other’s shoulder, and for a moment wren’s gaze goes to it. they seem to be close - it would be a shame to leave it without its master.

his gaze returns to the other force user as he extends his arms, and the corner of his lips curl. he would’ve preferred not to waste someone with potential talent.

“if death is what you would prefer, i’m happy to oblige.”

he would have laughed, if it were not a serious conversation, at the demand. but he doesn’t. he merely raises his lightsaber slightly, his grip tightening on the hilt and the glow illuminating the lines of his face. “i am an inquisitor…but surely you know that by now, no?” his gaze does not waver from the other force user’s face. he’s become one of the very people who took him from bracca - the one thing he hadn’t wanted to become, he has. it is a dirty, unpleasant job, and there is a lot of blood on his hands.

he has become resigned to his fate.

the empire is aware of the holocron’s destruction, and with it the names of the force sensitive children in the galaxy. but he has seen it before it’s destruction, and that in itself is valuable information. “I’m here to stop you, but…you already know that, too.”

he shifts into a smooth, offensive stance. zeffo is cold, and he’d prefer to get this over with so he can go somewhere warmer - standing around and talking isn’t helping. it could’ve gone smoothly, but - they never really go willingly. the others he’s fought didn’t, either.

without much of a second thought, he approaches the other swiftly, raising his lightsaber to strike.



// i’m sorry this is so short! didn’t have a lot of time to write today!

[mandalorian]

xxxxxxx𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺 ﹠ 🇧​🇩​﹣₁! 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲!
xxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The answer is one that Cal is tired of hearing. "Well, I just wanted to know the name of whoever I'm supposedly going to send crawling back to the Empire empty-handed." He responds, even if he can't help but feel unnerved by the voice of the other. It's almost as biting at the air around them, familiar in a sense; he can't put his finger on how, or why.

However, the luminescent lighting, red spilling over the others face, is almost enough. Briefly, he thinks this is someone he somehow knows. Perhaps they were an Inquisitor he faced without realizing, or their voice was familiar from his past and he hadn't realized it.

Before he can continue his train of thought or his recognition of the other, the Inquisitor pushes forward to attack. Cal is quick on the defensive position ─ his best bet is getting distance between them. He brings his opposite foot of his dominant hand back, boots digging into the mountain pathing beneath them. Just enough to keep himself in place.

Cal might have improved over the months and been recognized as a Jedi Knight, but fighting Inquisitors is still out of his range. They were trained to kill, to dismember and maim; Cal was not.

He brings his saber up, the orange blade humming softly and reaching his ears. It's drowned out by the collision of the mans weapon itself, and he can hear the crackling of his kyber crystal with their newly found proximity. The two colours mix together, somewhat of a sunset between the two of them.

With an activation on his handle, the second blade reveals itself. Another long, glowing orange blade on the opposite end of the handle. Cal shoves the Inquisitor back, and spins the lightsaber with a glare. With another gust of wind, alongside Cal's spinning, it's enough to push the hood from the top of his head. It slides, until the fabric falls to his back, and reveals his face clearly.

He stops the spin of his saber, and with another soft click, it falls back to a single blade. He shrugs weakly, while BD-1 on his shoulder gives an indignant beep. Cal doesn't hesitate after that, moving forward to swing at the other in front of him.

(( thats okay! dont worry about it! sorry for taking a while to reply!

[lys.]

𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐍
________________________________________________
who ⠀ i’ve ⠀ become ⠀ is ⠀ not ⠀ who ⠀ i ⠀ want ⠀ to ⠀ be ⠀. . .

spacer

since he was taken from bracca, from the place he’d called home and the people he considered to be good friends, if not akin to something as close to a family as he could get, there was never a moment of rest. from training, and fighting - or being under the watchful eye of his superiors. and yet, he’s learned a great deal, many things. how to maim and kill and destroy, but also to harness the might and power of the dark side of the force. he’s come to peace with the chaos, embraced the destruction. looking back on the young man he’d been on bracca, his strength had increased tenfold. the boy he was before was weak and vulnerable. but the young man he is now? powerful. much, much more than he was before, than what he’d originally believed he was - an ordinary scrapper who would be nothing more, nothing less for the rest of his life.

perhaps it was the desire to feel like he was needed, that made him so eager to please his superiors at the empire…even if he lost himself in the process. yet, if losing himself is the cost…perhaps it isn’t so bad. the empire has given him a chance to become someone else, someone important, ruthless, and powerful. and he’s never been any of those before. he’s already killed in the name of the empire. some of the blood upon his hands is possibly innocent.

he is confident enough that he will best this jedi. their training, most certainly, would not have been the same. and wren has built up enough endurance that he could do this for a good few hours before he would tire. the jedi will weaken, or slip up, he is certain of it…and then he will cut him down. his orders did not specify how he had to be brought in.

“but that is where you are wrong, jedi. i will not go back empty-handed.”

one way or another, this force user is coming with him. dead or alive - and as he had said before, the only thing the empire wants, is him dead. he fully intends to carry out his orders, and in doing so he will yet again prove himself to his superiors and to the empire.

he is pleasantly surprised, however, when a second blade appears to the jedi’s lightsaber - and suddenly things just became a lot more interesting. with everyone he has faced and conquered thus far, none of them had had dual blades. until now. wren sees it a bit like a game, almost, while it is also a test of the force user’s strength.

it is when the other’s hood slips, falling to his back, that everything changes. wren’s blood runs cold as he’s shoved back, but he does not lunge forward immediately once more. confusion flickers across his features for a moment, because suddenly, the jedi has become much more familiar to him. the color of his hair, his face -

but he cannot dwell on it, for the other moves forward, swinging at him, and wren has to move swiftly to dodge and block, unless he wants to end up run through with the jedi’s lightsaber. he doesn’t even realize when his own hood slips slightly, as he parries the other’s move with a swing of his own - once more focused on the thrill of the fight and his objective.

bring him down.

// you’re okay!! dw about it either!!

[mandalorian]

xxxxxxx𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺 ﹠ 🇧​🇩​﹣₁! 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲!
xxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It's a slight of the hand, to enable the double bladed saber, or pull them apart and duel wield. Fighting one on one such as this was always enough to make Cal nervous, especially with nothing around to use to his advantage. No turbines to possibly overtake with the force, no large boulders or similar structures to pull and swing towards his enemy. It was simply him, the force he could use, and the Inquisitor across from him.

He doesn't notice the change in the air. He's much too focused on the Inquisitor's movements, to attempt to predict and calculate his movements.

BD-1 on his shoulder slides down his back and jumps away from the fighting duo, moving away from the two and to safety. Cal doesn't glance over, expecting it from the robot to ensure they'd avoid getting in dangers way.

Cal exhales heavily, the motion of the battle already beginning to warm him. Adrenaline begins to steadily thrum through his body, preparing him for the rest of the fight. He tenses, catching his footing and moving back with the swing from the Inquisitor. Narrowly avoiding the others lightsaber as it rushes by his chest, brought up to nearly his chin. The heat from the crackling kyber crystal gets his heart racing, more so than it already was.

He spins his own saber, the crystals steady. His pulse is felt from the tips of his fingers, where it's tightly pressing against the metal of the conjoined sabers.

He lunges again, although to the side this time and not at the Inquisitor's front. His feet are light on the path beneath him, and he raises the saber to bring down as a heavy strike across his side, to catch him off his left shoulder.

(( that wasnt great KHFSJFG sorry ;

[lys.]

𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐍
________________________________________________
who ⠀ i’ve ⠀ become ⠀ is ⠀ not ⠀ who ⠀ i ⠀ want ⠀ to ⠀ be ⠀. . .

spacer

it may be a little more difficult than he’d originally thought. the other is quick on his feet, he has to give him that much. even though he had not gone through the same strenuous and brutal training as wren had, he is good. decent at combat and keeping himself alive - so far anyway. it will make the taste of victory even more sweeter once he has him at his feet…and he will return to the empire not empty handed, but having proved himself to the empire as a valuable asset in purging the galaxy until the entirety of it is under the empire’s rule. the jedi is good, yes, but he cannot possibly be good enough.

the droid that had been perched on his shoulder scampers away, and he feels a twinge of mild irritation. he would’ve liked to get his hands on it while he could, pick it apart and see if it contained anything useful. a companion such as that, surely, must have seen something that could be of use. but unless he wishes to die here, he cannot focus on the droid, but on the opponent in front of him.

the familiarity of him nags at him, a stubborn itch that refuses to go away. that he was even a little familiar is puzzling - wren does not and hasn’t interacted with many, even with the empire, which is why it’s so annoying that he can’t quite figure it out. it’s that frustration that drives him to move swiftly, still smoothly but with a new ferocity behind his movements and strikes that wasn’t there before.

“give up, jedi. it would be a shame to let such potential go to waste.”

he is more than happy to continue, of course. fighting has been in his blood since he’d first discovered it when he fought the inquisitors back on bracca, before he was dragged away - but at the moment, he does wish to know his identity. if he knew who he is, maybe then that itch would leave him alone and go away.

but he does not give up. instead the other lunges, this time at wren’s side instead of his front, catching him off guard for a split second. enough for him to feel the blaze against his side, scorching into his skin, and he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood to prevent himself from crying out in pain. his hand immediately goes to his side as he maneuvers back slightly, still gripping his saber tightly - prepared to defend himself should he need it.

“you’re good. i’ll give you that much.”

an injury can only mean bad things in a battle, but wren is determined not to give up. he’ll either complete his objective, or die trying. and if he’s one thing, it’s stubborn.

// you’re okay!! this isn’t good either tbh

[mandalorian]

xxxxxxx𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺 ﹠ 🇧​🇩​﹣₁! 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲!
xxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He's talkative, something Cal has found that Inquisitors tend to share during fights. Typically resorting to insults, he'd come to notice -- this fellow doesn't offer the same perspective. He even calls Cal good, potential. He'd only heard similar statements about Cere in regards to the dark side of the force.

He wasn't going to let them take him in. Not just for the Mantis crew, but for himself. Everyone that he'd let die thanks to the Empire, or so he at least thought. It wasn't like they had ever left much room for living, unless they managed to see the potential in you.

It's always enough to send chills down his spine, the mention of Cal or Cere as a potential Inquisitor. Cal didn't hold as much anger as one in tune to the dark side typically would, thus not making him a proper victim; and he wouldn't ever have considered Wren a potential victim, either.

Though the more he speaks, the more Cal thinks he recognizes the others voice. From the sneer of his lips to the determination in his bones, it's an odd feeling. He'd recognized Trilla almost immediately as the young padawan Cere described her as, only due to the descriptions and dots that he'd been able to connect. This felt different. Much more personal than an old acquaintance of a friend.

However, Cal doesn't comment on this, not yet. The way that the Inquisitor pauses to hold himself, positioning more defensive this time, it gives him hope. Brief, sparking hope.

He knows it's not going to happen, but he has to try. For the rare, bizarre occurrence that it would. "You can give up," He says, putting space between the two of them now.

"I know the Empire is hurting you, but if you see potential in me, you also see that I'm dangerous. And I don't want to hurt you. Not more than I have to," He adjusts his stance, lowering his saber to his side, ready for a slice if necessary. "You still have a chance to back out."

(( i love how you go "this isnt great" [proceeds to write an absolute banger post] KJHFG ur good <33