𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 ⠀ [ mandalorian + ranbooisms ]

[lys.]

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

spacer

the injury is a mild annoyance. if there’s one thing he loathes, it would be to show weakness, or seem weak. he is not weak, even when he is injured - albeit it may slow him a little, another mild irritation for the inquisitor who, although he could go all day, would prefer to wrap this up quickly. the familiarity he feels deep in his bones unsettles him, dare he say it even makes him slightly nervous. attachment to anyone is extremely dangerous, for they are the first people an enemy would go after, even if he still cannot quite put his finger on where he or how he knows this jedi. which, for wren, is what is so unsettling, which could lead to distraction. and distraction could lead to death.

fortunately, he is not so easily convinced by a pretty face and pretty lies. shaking his head he shifts his stance to be more defensive, one hand still pressed to the wound on his side. it’s the determination, not unlike when he’d fought against the inquisitors on bracca, that keeps him going and prevents him from giving up.

“i will not give up.”

this is his chance. his chance to prove himself to everyone who said he would be nothing more than a rigger, nothing more than weak and expendable. he isn’t about to waste it over someone he thinks he may recognize it. the empire may have formed him into a monster against his will…but now, this is all he knows.

“you underestimate me.”

he is in pain because of his injury, well aware that the pain is starting to slow him down, but there is no chance to back out for him. he could die here, and he knows that. he had originally thought that the jedi would be like the rest, but he is proving himself. it would seem that they have underestimated each other - with wren being pleasantly surprised. and as such, that was what had driven him to make the offer to join them. a shame to let it go to waste, really, but killing has become familiar to him.

but truthfully, he is not afraid of it. should he fall, it would be because he fought with everything he had and with everything he was given. and he would not be just a rigger from the scrapper guild on bracca, but much more than that. and what he’d wanted was to be something.

// haha thank you! yours was a banger too!! <33

[mandalorian]

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

He knows it's on the tip of his tongue. The Inquisitor's stance is defensive, and his hood nearly off his head. The tone of his voice, unwavering and as biting as the cold winds, is pushing Cal's memory.

He'd been so young on Bracca, scared and defenseless. He'd only fought tooth and nail when threatened to lose the last friend he'd ever truly had. He let Wren go, back on Bracca, and watched with solemn eyes. He bit himself back, held himself and cried for hours ─ he'd failed his friend, and convinced himself it wouldn't happen again.

But Wren shouldn't have been that sacrifice, that he knows. They had been close, and Cal had frozen up. He knew who they were after, and still he'd let Wren be taken instead of him. His sacrifice meant nothing as long as force-sensitive people around the galaxy were still at risk at being taken, thanks to the Empire.

Cal's eyes narrow, and his ears flush; his words are familiar, flashes of the scrapper guild fighting to the forefront of his memory thanks to it.

From laughing in private, to shared glances between one another while they worked. Sharing drinks late at night and exchanging stories of their past ─ Cal's mostly made up, stories he'd spend months perfecting to make sure his script never caught him in a lie.

Finally, he seems to understand. His grip on his saber falters, and he takes a step back. More so a stumble, and even BD-1 is caught off guard by this change in energy. A worrisome beep leaves the robot nearby, as they scramble down the safety ledge they'd climbed onto, and stops by Cal's foot.

A heavy breath leaves him, an exhale of both alarm and relief mixed together; Wren was alive.

Wren is alive, and standing in front of him, as an Inquisitor, ready to fight.

"Wren?" He finally manages to say, eyes widening with each letter of the name. It's a name that hasn't fallen from his lips in front of another person in months now.

The warmth from his saber's crystal is no longer there, his fingers numb from where it holds onto the handle. "Wren?" He repeats, somewhat broken, and knows he's leaving himself vulnerable to an attack; somehow he cannot seem to care. He wants, desperately, to be wrong.

Please be wrong.

[lys.]

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

spacer

he says his name once, twice, and it’s as if the galaxy suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

suddenly he’s back on bracca, fighting with everything he had against a pair of inquisitors sent by the empire. and even though the other riggers were there, he’d never felt so alone. no one had come to his aid, too afraid to even try and help - and he hasn’t stood a chance against two powerful force sensitives who’d had more training than he ever did. it wasn’t much of a fight before they’d brought him to the ground, pinning him in place so he was unable to move even a muscle…and he’d given up. with nobody to help, no one stepping forward to aid him, there was nothing he could do. he wasn’t strong enough.

as they’d pulled him to his feet, before they’d dragged him to a fate worse than death, there was one person his gaze had gone to.

“cal?”

he feels like can’t breathe, his breath caught in his throat. it couldn’t possibly be him. it isn’t possible. but there was only one person who’d ever called him by his first name - although his superiors know of it, even they don’t call him by his first name. and that person was cal. his good friend, the one person he’d trusted with his life.

it was a name he hasn’t spoken aloud for a long time, but that he’d thought of constantly. not a day went by when he hasn’t thought of cal - now a jedi, someone he’s fighting against.

he lowers his lightsaber slightly, leaving him vulnerable and weaker because of his injury, but at the moment he finds that he doesn’t care. he’s wholly focused on the other, standing across from him - he’d known he was familiar. his face, the color of his hair, his voice, all of it was so achingly familiar.

deep down he knows this, but he can’t help but hope that he’d gotten it wrong. that it isn’t cal standing there. he doesn’t…he doesn’t want to hurt him. because if he does he’d be hurting someone he cares about - even if cal had let him be taken by the inquisitors, even if he hadn’t stepped forward to help.

even after he’d opened up to him, and after the things he’d told him about his past.

“cal, is that…is that you?”

his voice cracks, and he swallows hard. please let me get it wrong. please.

[mandalorian]

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

The words that fall from the other's mouth is nothing short of heartbreak for Cal, a confirmation of his worsening fears at that very moment. It’s enough to get a soft, barely audible noise to spill from his lips; somewhat similar to a choke.

Truth be told, Cal did feel close to choking. Whether it be on his own tears or the karma of the situation itself. He could barely believe this, even as Wren repeated his name back to him; in a voice that was so much different than the one he’d heard earlier.

A voice so similar to the friend he’d lost back on the scrapper planet of Bracca. Someone he should have fought tooth and nail for, and let out of his grasp. They slipped between his fingers and he blamed himself for that for so long ─ with Wren in front of him, he can’t help but continue to blame himself.

"Yes," He manages out, "Wren, it's me."

He swallows heavily, and it does nothing to soothe the strong lump in his throat. His friend, closer than that, standing before him as an Inquisitor ─ no doubt his own fault, he realised with a low exhale.

He doesn’t feel bad for himself, more so for the young man standing before him. Someone he knew so well, turned into a monster he never even considered Wren capable of becoming.

There is no warmth lingering in the air, and he lets his saber go dim; the only warmth is from the sun overhead. Even then the icy nature of the winds keeps him cool, accompanied by the numbness of his skin.

He raises the handle of his saber, before bringing it down to his hip. At his foot, BD-1 chimes in irritation. He pays them no mind at the current moment, ignoring the irritated and confused noises from the robot. It’s his own naivety that makes him clip his saber to his belt, officially giving up the battle. If Wren were to attack, of course he could still use the force to put distance between them.

Somehow, despite everything, he found trust alongside hope. It was a dangerous combination.

"Oh my god, Wren." He says, beginning to move forward. His steps are rushed and worrisome, hands extending to reach towards the man he once called a friend, longing. "Wren, I thought you were dead."

What a slap in the face it must be. To be taken, so scared and thinking it had been a mistake of the Inquisitors ─ only to find that your friend had allowed you to be taken. That Cal had been force sensitive, known he was force sensitive, and still didn’t fight the Inquisitors for Wren’s safety.

[lys.]

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

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so it is him, then. he feels entirely numb, his blood running cold, and yet the emotions deep inside of him are tumultuous. disbelief. shock. hurt and betrayal. among other things, all bundled up inside of him - desperate, he tries to repress them. emotions are dangerous. they can show vulnerability and weakness. and the one thing he’d promised himself he would never be is weak. but he is frozen in place, unsure if he could move even if he wanted to, simply staring at the other with those tumultuous feelings still raging deep below the surface.

in a way…cal had abandoned him at perhaps his greatest time of need. when, perhaps, he’d needed him the most. he’d stood and watched, silent, as wren fought tooth and nail against the inquisitors to save himself. and he did nothing. not a word, not even budging. nothing. and look at what wren has become now - a monster, unrecognizable to even himself.

but it’s him. he’s standing there, alive and much, much stronger than he was before. wren hasn’t known he himself was force sensitive…just as he hadn’t known about cal. there’s a twinge of hurt, duller because they’ve been separated for so long, when he realizes that. he’d trusted cal with everything. and now he’s starting to doubt. did call ever trust him with anything?

he never would’ve given him up. not for anything. and yet, when the time came, cal had stood and allowed his capture to happen. wren cannot help but blame him a little bit because of that.

cal holsters his lightsaber, wren noticed numbly. he extinguishes his own, slowly clipping it to his own belt. for now. as thrown off as he is that the realization of the jedi he was fighting not a moment before was his close friend, he cannot allow himself to be defenseless. not now.

cal begins to move towards him, his steps hurried - and wren flinches, hard. cal reaches for him, and for the first time wren’s stoic expression crumbles, to be replaced with agony. “cal.” he repeats, his voice soft. just his name.

moving on autopilot, wren reaches for him too - not even realizing that he’s trembling, but not from the chill. and then he does realize he’s reaching for him, and he pulls his hands back.

“i…i cant—“

[mandalorian]

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

Wren puts away his lightsaber, and flinches when Cal gets too close. It's enough to get him to stop in place, hands extended still, but no longer pushing forward. He can't bring himself to, not when Wren looks so hurt. He can feel his own stomach twist, just as the other extends for him.

But he stops himself, and Cal's eyes dart towards his hands. They tremble, and Cal knows exactly why. He wants to take his hands and hold them until they're both filled back to the brim with nothing but warmth, joy from a reunion. They should be happy.

There was no happiness in this.

He looks so wrecked, so ruined in the moment. Moments ago he had pure determination plastered onto his expression, reveling in confidence. This is much closer to the man he knew back on Bracca, from the scrapper guild; the Wren he'd grown so close to.

"You can," He says, instinctively.

He doesn't think about his words, instead just speaks from his heart. Things he'd wanted to say since he'd seen Wren get dragged away, what he'd lay awake at night thinking about. What he should have said, would have said, if he could have.

"I shouldn't have let you get taken. I was so ─ I was terrified, and I let you take the fall instead of me. I was so afraid of whatever they were going to do to you," Slowly, he pushes himself forward. His fingers spread before brushing as close as they could against Wren's, just for a bit of contact that isn't the two trying to kill one another.

His voice comes out softer, more ruined; solemn. "Wren," He whispers. He wants to plead, beg for the other not to do this. To lay down his saber and let Cal bring him back to the Mantis. But he's scared, unsure what would happen -- in the back of his mind, he knows how dangerous this is.

That Wren had been taken by Inquisitors and turned into one of them. Trilla never even gave in until the very end. Who's to say Wren would break so quick?

"I'm so sorry." He says, no louder than a broken murmur.

(( sorry for taking a while!! i was pretty busy yesterday

[lys.]

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

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he swallows hard, and finds his throat has gone dry. he’s overwhelmed, a tumultuous mix of despair and hurt. he never expected this. and he certainly doesn’t want to fight, or force forbid hurt, someone who was one of his closest and only friends. there is no happiness or warmth in this. only despair, and grief.

there’s been a huge, gaping void within him since he was taken from bracca into the clutches of the empire. over time he’s come to ignore it, but now, now that he knows it’s cal he’s been hunting, the pain has returned.

his eyes burn, threatening to tear, and he hates it. hates how weak and torn he feels.

he’s at war with himself, and he doesn’t know which side is winning.

he shakes his head. his hands are trembling. “that’s where you’re wrong…i can't.“

he can’t do this. he can’t fight him, now that he knows that it’s cal. at the same time, he knows that he must, that he doesn’t have any other choice. as much as it will destroy him.

but maybe that was the empire’s plan. destroy everything and everyone he cares about until he has nothing left but unwavering loyalty.

he doesn’t say anything as cal explains, or tries to. but he stiffens slightly as his fingers brush against his, and he inhales in a shuddering breath. he hasn’t had physical contact with anyone in a very, very long time. and it terrifies him. terrifies him as much as the urge to let cal take his hands, despite how they and his shoulders tremble under the weight of his despair.

but if cal were sorry, if he’d truly cared about him…then wouldn’t he have gone looking?

wren’s trust in him had shattered when he’d stood by and done nothing. “i don’t…i don’t know if i can forgive you.” he whispers, and his voice breaks.


// you’re okay!! dw about it!! i’m sorry this is a bit short!

[mandalorian]

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

He's aware of this, of what he'd done and how unforgivable it was. His cowardice had cost him his friend, and Wren had every right not to forgive him for that. Still, Cal could despise the way it crawls into his throat and sits there as a painful lump. How it seems to dwell in his chest, in his stomach, grief expanding and flooding through him entirely.

He lost Wren, and this was the cost of his actions. The consequences stood right in front of him, brandishing a lightsaber with an unstable crystal for the iconic red glow. Holding his side in pain from where Cal had hurt him ─ hurt his friend. His closest friend.

Cal had done that, and the realization itself makes him sick. Worsening only with Wren's words, with how broken and vulnerable the display in front of him is.

He cannot linger. He doesn't know how long they have until Wren potentially attacks him, or another member of the Empire finds the two. He doesn't want to rush all of this, all of the things he'd been saving to say to Wren on the off chance he finally saw him again.

"I thought about you," He continues anyway, and moves again. Wren stiffened slightly but hadn't pulled back entirely upon the mild physical contact, urging him on. He turns his hand over to slide under Wren's, and press their palms against each other flush. "Every day, Wren. Every day."

He swallows, heavy and thick, and it does nothing to dislodge the lump in his throat. His eyes are beginning to sting, the emotions catching up to him and the adrenaline wearing down from the battle beforehand. "You don't have to forgive me," He says, and he means it, "but you can come back with us. You can escape the Empire, Wren, we'll protect you."

He knows it means nothing, and yet he says it anyway. His fingers lace with Wren's, at least momentarily. "I'll protect you. I can protect you in ─ in the way I never did."

His voice breaks, just barely. "Please. Please let me make it up to you."

(( you're absolutely fine! side note: this is breaking my heart in the most /pos way!

[lys.]

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

spacer

he is not proud of who he’s become…but he is proud of himself for persevering, despite how the empire had broken him and molded him into someone they’d wanted him to be. he came to terms with the fact that nobody was going to save him, no one was going to come looking for him a long time ago. so he became the only thing he could. a monster.

and it gave him the ability to turn his vulnerability into strength, his weakness into power. even if the tendrils of the dark side had wrapped around him and poisoned him from the inside out.

and, on top of it all, it hurts to know that if their positions had been reversed, if it was cal…he’d have fought with everything he had to save him. even if it had costed him his life - because cal was everything he had. he had no one else.

no one else to live for.

but cal had been a coward. and, as much as it hurts wren, did not care for him that much as he’d originally thought. he was expendable, a sacrifice to keep his own life, and that betrayal is a slap to the face.

“you abandoned me.” bitter and broken all in one. he does not pull away, not yet, as cal’s hand slides under his, their palms flush. wren’s hands are rough, burn scars from the empire’s training methods rippling across them.

and yet, he’d thought of cal every day.

“your protection means nothing.” he shakes his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he does not cry. even as the itch of a sob crawls up his throat and lodges there. “it meant something once. but not anymore.”

not when he’d abandoned him, when he’d done nothing.

cal laces his fingers with his, but wren cannot tear his gaze from cal’s face, slightly older now but still the same.

he’d cared about him deeply. but as it had turned out, that didn’t mean anything either.

“i wish i could trust you again.” and he does. ”but i can’t.”

he does not have long now. the wound on his side is becoming more pronounced, more painful. he needs medical attention, and that’s something he can’t get until this is over.


// my heart is shattered why did we do this to ourselves? in the best way

[mandalorian]

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

The bitterness in Wren's voice is painful to hear, as their knuckles now face the sky and their palms remain flush against one another. He wants to beg for his forgiveness, or scream for it all the same.

"Wren," He says, while the other denounces his protection. The wound from that day is revealing itself, brought back to the surface alongside the pain and longing from it.

For so long, he'd thought about the same thing Wren must have. Why didn't he fight for his friend, insist it was a mistake? Why wouldn't he have turned himself in instead?

And God knows he wanted to at the time. It had been the most pronounced thing on his mind, his brain attempting to kick him into action.

Still, he'd stood, frozen in place. Cal had done nothing, and stared as his closest friend was dragged away. He had only screamed when it was too late, moved when it was over, and processed what had happened when the pain was unbearable.

In reality, what had it been? A survival instinct? His fight or flight had chosen flight and it'd caused him not only what he assumed was the life of his friend, but his trust as well. Wren had been dragged away, and in Cal's mind, the last thing he thought of was Cal as an enemy. While Cal had thought the world of him, always.

If their positions were reversed, he would have hoped, in some sick way, that Wren would have reacted the same way Cal did at the time. His life wasn't worth giving himself up over, but Wren?

Wren's had been, over and over again. He failed.

"You don't need to trust me." He says, and it's only with BD-1's worrisome noise at his foot that his eyes finally flick over to the worsening wound on Wren's side. "What's going to happen if you return to the Empire empty-handed, Wren? Will they kill you? You're already halfway there."

That much is cruel, he knows. He did this.

"You don't need to trust me, or like me." His words hurt, the idea of him and Wren as enemies and nothing more. Friends and nothing more was something he could live with at the time, but this? This was so much worse.

"Please," He says, softer, nearly a whisper. "Wren, please. You need medical attention. I can help you this time."

This time. Because he hadn't been able to before.

(( i dont know!! but i love it!