boxofmisfits | Mirror Image

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In forty years, Thrawn had kept the galaxy, mainly the Unknown Region, safe from many threats. He did it with his beloved at his side, living a full life with the one he loved, even when Glenn remained young while Thrawn grew older. They both knew there would come a day when they would have to say goodbye forever.

That day came, and Thrawn's last wish was to see Csilla. Many strings were pulled, and the Ascendancy allowed Thrawn his request, as well as agreeing to rescind his exile, seeing as he wasn't going to cause more trouble.

On his deathbed, Thrawn had given Glenn some parting words: "I hope you understand why I never told you this. I had to keep it a secret, to ensure the galaxy's safety. Not even Pellaeon or Parck knew of this. Forty years ago, I placed my genetic material into a cloning cylinder, in the event that I was ever killed. The cylinder was programmed to activate once I was declared dead." He'd reached into his pocket and given Glenn a datacard with directions to where he was keeping the clone. The card also contained the same message Thrawn had given Glenn, in the event that he died before he could tell his mate. "Go there, Glenn. Keep him safe until he is done. Know that you made the galaxy a brighter place for me."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo died the next day. A few loyal Chiss and Empire of the Hand members attended his funeral, where he was put to rest in the Mitth family crypt, alongside his brother. Thrawn had made sure his brother's remains had been found and given a proper resting place.

Meanwhile, on the edge of the Outer Rim, a cloning cylinder activates.

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"You are correct," Glenn replies, standing mostly at attention out of politeness. He knows he hasn't really socialized much with anyone here since his arrival to guard his mate's clone. Fortunately, despite the more or less prolonged disuse of his voice, he sounds like he's never stopped talking.

"My mate, just prior to his death, gave me notice of such plans. And based on him keeping that secret until such a time impressed upon me the prerogative to act with similar secrecy in kind."

After all, he's never let anyone near where Thrawn's chamber was, his instincts refusing to allow him to entertain anything else, and grief left him rather crippled in terms of the energy to socialize.

Perhaps selfishly, he still worries about the loss of purpose now, and that he might be sorely tempted to eventually retreat back into himself, but he knows that it is no one else's burden to bear but his own.

"So Mitth'raw'nuruodo had a cloning chamber underneath us all along? I am not entirely surprised. Nor is it a surprise that he kept this from us, and trusted you alone with this information." Stent doesn't sound too torn up about this, since he knows Thrawn did what he did only for good reasons, and he can understand why Thrawn kept this a secret.

The elderly Chiss regards the clone, stepping off the dias and vacating the chair. "I was at your maker's funeral. The day we lost him was a sad one indeed, for the galaxy lost a great man. But now his genius lives on in you."

"With all due respect, Commander, I may need some time to adjust." Thrawn looks back at Glenn. "And I wish to keep Glenn at my side. He protected me while I was still in the cloning tube, and can protect me still."

"Of course," Stent nods. "We would never dream of turning away the life mate of Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Especially not when we have him to thank for making sure you came to us."

Glenn gives an almost imperceptible flinch at the phrasing, disliking the potential implication that he acted in any way to circumvent Thrawn's free will. But, having picked up a thing or two, he's able to keep his reaction to that little twitch alone for now, and he resists the urge to correct the elder over something so trivial. His sensitivity aside, the meaning is clear enough.

Still, ludicrous is the thought of, even in formality, requiring permission to linger from outside of those immediately concerned.

Thrawn's path is however he chooses to forge it.

"You shall have me at your side for however long you wish it of me, and the knowledge that accompanies me."

"You make it sound as if there may come a day when I will not want you with me anymore." Thrawn has only been aware for a few hours, but Glenn is all he knows, discounting his memories of the original Thrawn. Glenn is his only friend, and has been for him when he was but a cluster of cells.

"Well, all of this is yours now," Stent says, waving at the chair. "We await your command, Syndic. Anything you and your friend wish is yours."

"For now, you may continue as you were, Commander. I wish to rest for the time being. I assume Thrawn's old quarters are available?"

"Indeed. Please, make yourselves at home."

Thrawn gives Stent a polite nod before waving Glenn along to the lift again. When the doors close, he turns to Glenn, "I am less than a day old and they are expecting me to be Thrawn resurrected."

"To attempt to sit in their boots, so to speak, you may very well be that to them."

Glenn thinks a moment, doing his best to work with his thoughts. In the lift, Thrawn's scent is more potent than in an open space. His mind once more notices the difference, his instincts mildly confused at the similarity between this man and his late mate.

"As he said, we were there during his funeral. But he wasn't there to see any sort of process beyond that. I suspect that as a result, his perception of you is warped to more strictly accommodate your predecessor's image. I imagine if you spoke with him frankly, he may come to a better understanding that the two of you are not the same person, however his emotions may lead him to feel.

"Meanwhile, I have had five years to reconcile the differences. However slowly."

Looking to Thrawn a moment, he then lets out a small sigh and glances away.

"And in that, is the source of my earlier comment. There indeed may come a time when you wish for me to leave. However composed I am right now, and however useful I am to you, I still have distinctly heavy emotional baggage. Some of which has still persisted since I was chronologically in my late teens.

"Your predecessor accepted me all the same, roughly when we first met, however.. uniquely."

His lips twitch a little in an almost smile.

"However, I have no desire to shift my burdens onto you. You already have much before you to contend with, however you choose to."

Even setting his grief aside, there is still pain there, that he is still discovering how to navigate thanks to his slowed aging both inside and outside. He hopes that Thrawn can pick up on it even without him saying exactly as much.

"I also have a bad habit of being... reclusive... whenever I am struggling. Ever since I was a child."

Which has been the case at times even before his mate's death, but especially while he was learning to accept his mate's acceptance, and then after his death. Because of how long it took for him to reach each goalpost, his mate's death felt heart-wrenchingly soon, and sent him backwards in that progress to some degree.

But even saying this much probably spells out just what kind of state he was in while guarding Thrawn. Sure, he's had some better days, but for the most part? Even he knows that refusing contact with others was more out of a maladaptive coping mechanism.

"You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, and I will not force you to be social if you do not wish it. But do not be afraid to seek me out if you need company." After all, Glenn is his friend, and the widower of his template, and he hasn't shown any awkwardness in speaking of his mate to the clone.

Perhaps they both have their emotional baggage to handle. For Thrawn, it's the way he has to live up to a great man, while trying to make others understand that he's not the same man who did all those great things. Stent seemed to understand, but Thrawn could tell that he is excited at the idea that the Grand Admiral has been reborn.

"I appreciate it."

He's not entirely sure how to conduct himself right now, and he rubs the back of his neck again, a few gray feathers curling out of the way.

"If I need company... I'll ask. Even so, do not be afraid to turn me down if you simply do not wish for company."

As genuine as his words are, it still looks like he's expecting to be turned away. He's the widower of Thrawn's template, after all. And as intensely pack-oriented as Glenn is, he doesn't want to blur the line at any point between the man before him and his mate. It will only cause trouble.

"Do you wish for me to quietly communicate to Commander Kres'ten'tarthi regarding his conduct to you earlier?" he asks, not wanting much attention pointed towards himself. "I wished to speak up earlier regarding his choice of words, but I did not wish to impose, nor cause any offense between the two of you."

"I doubt you could cause offense between us. But, you may speak to him about his conduct if you wish." It's odd seeing Stent so old, since in his flash learned memories he was a man in his thirties. It must be equally odd to Stent, since he didn't know Thrawn when he was this young.

The lift comes to a halt and opens the doors. Thrawn steps through, into the original Thrawn's old quarters. It's rather large, with a huge front room serving as a sitting area, with a holo-projector in the center and works of art decorating the walls. There's doors leading to the bedroom, refresher and kitchen. Thrawn probably didn't entertain in here very often. And now all of this is his.

"I can speak to someone about setting up a room for you. Unless you want me to simply have a cot brought in so you may sleep in the front room." Rukh practically slept outside the original Thrawn's door while he was serving as his bodyguard.

Glenn steps into the room, and aside from tidying up, it's exactly how he last remembered it looking. There's no scent of his mate in here anymore. Some of his own art is on the walls, and all at once, Glenn remembers that there's a post-wedding portrait he drew of them in the bedroom.

He doesn't seem like he hears Thrawn as his mind rushes through the few memories he has of them in this place, remarkable only because his mate was here with him. His hand touches over one of the tables as he stiffly enters, fiercely reminding himself that this is no longer a place he can selfishly belong.

He doesn't make a sound as he tears up again, breathing carefully and deeply to keep from agitating the urge to cry outright.

Not that he isn't, with a steady stream of them running down his cheeks.

"A-- separate room-- would be best," he manages to eke out, and he hastily wipes at his face with the back of his hand.

"...That said, there is-- an art piece I should remove from your room and replace with something else, if anything. I had forgotten it was even here until I came in here, and..."

At least the art of his in this room is nondescript enough. Just little things like a horizon's portrait at dawn, and a few insects and ysalamiri climbing trees.

Thrawn isn't sure if he should comfort Glenn or give him space, or if any move to comfort him would be awkward since he's a clone of Glenn's dead husband. He regrets bringing him up here, not even considering that Glenn might have come here in the past with Thrawn, and shared quarters with him.

"Of course. Take what you need."

In the meantime, he looks at the artwork around the room. Strange to turn his analytical mind on artwork that belonged to the man he was cloned from, and thus he's reading himself. Though, he can tell that some of the artwork belongs to Glenn. Thrawn must have treasured his mate's art.

"...Yes. Sorry. I won't remove it from your possession, if you would prefer, but.. I doubt you would want to look up every time you wake up and see-- a portrait containing your likeness, but of the life that isn't yours."

It would feel like he's forcing it on him. Glenn enters the room and very carefully removes the portrait from the wall. It's a larger piece, crafted over a period of several months. Glenn sets it down out of the way by the wall and finds a cloth to cover it with.

That done, he moves it out of the bedroom entirely, and leans it against a wall in the communal space. Part of him just wants to hide it away entirely.

"Just... I was here a few times before. Always on business, but... I wanted this place to also feel like home. To me, there's nothing really remarkable about this place. It just served as a comfortable roof.

"...But because my mate was here with me, it meant something a lot more. Everything... meant more to me when we were together."

He wipes at his face with the back of his hand, and sighs.

"Anyway. Know that if you find any of the art here to be... not what you would prefer to look at, other pieces can be cycled in. I kept possession several pieces in their original formats. Many of which are safely stored aboard the Morpho, and I can easily bring them in. Consider it... as sharing something of mutual interest."

He offers a watery smile.

"I also have holo versions of them on the datapad, in case you would like a preview of them. However, there are some personal pieces that I am not open to sharing at this time."

Thrawn looks at the artwork once more. "You may take the wedding portrait, but I wish to keep the other pieces that you will allow me to. I would also like copies of whatever you wish to share with me." It's a combination of how he wants to examine the artwork to get a view into his predecessor and Glenn himself, and just because he finds the artwork nice to look at.

"You can have the room next to mine, so that you are still close by, unless you would prefer to sleep in the floor directly below." In case it hurts too much to even be next to the room that his mate occupied, knowing that a man who looks just like him is using it.

"...Yeah. That's fine. On... both accounts." He shifts a little bit awkwardly, and contemplates which piece to bring in from the Morpho. A lot of them are personal pieces, just like the wedding portrait. But there are some that are a bit less personal that he simply likes.

Regarding the covered wedding portrait, he picks it up again with the support of a few tentacles, one peeling the covering back.

"...If you want to look at it -- the wedding portrait -- you're welcome to."

It's an incredibly colorful piece, after all. One of his best works, he thinks. There was frustration at times in making it, yes, but mostly joy to recapture such a lovely moment. He still remembers the scent of the flowers he'd insisted on, the feeling of his mate in his arms, and the loving words they spoke in Cheunh.

The work itself was painstakingly painted on the thick canvas with various transparent, colored inks, each layer left to dry before applying the next. He'd practiced digitally for a long time before taking this on.

The portrait is almost photo-realistic. Their ages are plain, though compared to now, Glenn's hair has less gray.

Glenn lightly bites his lip.

"...This is one of the only portraits I have where it is... also an accurate self-portrait. Showing me as I am, rather than how I often feel. So I don't mind if you wish to study it. In a little bit, I can show you some holos of other works I have. I'll let you decide which art piece you'd rather fill the empty space this one has left behind. No sense in letting them continue to just sit in storage without anyone to appreciate them."

Thrawn examines the painting. That's him. Or rather, it's the man he was cloned from. But it's still his face, albeit older, with lines on his face and a few grey hairs. It's almost surreal, to see this version of himself, to see the man he was created to continue the legacy of. Even if Glenn said that this piece was meant to be more true to life, he can still see the sheer depth of how much he loved Thrawn in this painting, and how much he wanted this painting to represent a cherished memory.

To suddenly regain this reminder of that day, while being around a man with the face of his mate, he can only imagine how that must feel for Glenn.

"He meant a lot to you."

"...He still does."

Glenn slightly adjusts his grip on the frame, to make sure he doesn't drop it.

"It's the biggest, most intensive piece I have created as well. I finished it after about 24 standard weeks. I laughed that I wouldn't make a piece like this again. It drove me a little crazy, wanting to get it just right, but also over with quickly."

A faint huff of a laugh follows.

"He had the strangest timing, too. Our... mutual attraction became obvious to each other not long after I had brutally killed C'baoth with my bare hands. He saw it, too, what I could do with his own eyes. The harm I could do when blinded by anger and grief. C'baoth's actions had robbed some of our allies of their free will-- and their ability to live without being attached to him. Killing C'baoth sealed their fates as well.

"I had not met many of those affected in person, but my instincts had marked them as my people. And I still grieved for their loss.

"And yet, your predecessor chose that time to.. hug me and shift my attention away from it.

"Still, my mate's allies are still my people. And with the way my mind functions, the allies you choose will also become mine to protect. If I can."

Thrawn looks at the painting again, taking in the small details and the care that Glenn put into it. This painting alone shows how much he loved and adored his mate, and how Thrawn made Glenn feel content. This painting embodies that love and captures it to canvas. Thrawn finds that rather touching.

"Strange timing indeed. Perhaps he admired your devotion to not just him, but his crew. I know how he saw those who worked for him, and how he gained their loyalty. Of course, I am only going off my flash learning, and perhaps it wasn't his only reason for confessing to you at that time."

"I don't know. It surprised me a lot. I was expecting my brutality would push everyone else away. Even him. But some of that's also pretty hazy, in my memory. Like those moments almost don't exist."

Glenn regards the depiction of his mate on canvas, and then turns his gaze to his mate's successor's direction.

"I know I kept trying to shove him away to some extent. We both knew I'd outlive him, all things considered. Some very, very, very selfish and lonely part of me wanted to make him one of my kind. To not be alone anymore. But it was his will to not change, and so the only option was to respect that."

"I can only speculate as to why he chose not to become ageless with you," And he can only do that because he has the original Thrawn's mind inside of him, and thus knows how he thought. But he still doesn't know what deeper feelings Thrawn had for Glenn or what led to him falling in love with Glenn. "But I can say for certain that he was not the sort to seek immortality for its own sake."

Red eyes to go the painting again, as if he can't take his eyes off it. "If it's too painful for you, we need not discuss him again, and you may take the painting back to your quarters." The original Thrawn probably scanned it for his collection already.

"He had no desire to embrace the cons of my condition, nor to become ageless at his current age. It took me decades of self-isolation to stop... wanting to eat other humans. To constantly turn to the wilderness instead, and then finally find the right sorts of ration bars to keep that hunger dampened. Perhaps my mate would have been able to withstand such an urge, but it was his desire to not feel it in the first place."

Glenn's gaze flickers back to the portrait, and he breathes slowly when he hears Thrawn's voice.

"..No, it is fine. In some way, I..." His voice catches. He stops, breathes, starts again.

"It's nice to talk about him, instead of just hearing my own thoughts ringing about my head."

Noticing that Thrawn's still looking at the portrait, he makes no move to put it away.

"I can move it to my quarters after you feel finished looking at it. Even then, you are welcome to look at it anytime. Or nearly all of my art."

Cracking a smile, he continues, "After all, I have no wish to deprive you of what brings you joy. Especially something as simple as looking at art. And if it may help you learn more about myself and what the past left behind before your birth, especially to better gather your bearings with, so much the better."

In instinct, he uses a tentacle as if to reach out to touch Thrawn, hesitates, and then gently pats Thrawn's shoulder anyway with a light touch, withdrawing quickly. For now, he lays the portrait on a table, to keep it off the floor and make it easier to look at, and then withdraws as soon as he's sure it won't fall over.

His gaze crinkles, regarding Thrawn with warmth, and even a little affection, mixed with a touch of humor. It's distinct from the loving gaze in the portrait - more like he's looking fondly at a new friend than anything else.

"...I'll definitely be filling my quarters with more of it, too. Both mine and pieces that I inherited from my mate. It'll probably end up looking like my old room on Earth. Sketches pinned on the walls so that there's barely any wall visible left."

"I am not surprised. He was no longer in his prime when he cloned me." The idea of agelessness is a tempting one, but it's not one he's sure that he wants. Especially when he read about what can happen when someone chooses to become part Ignaes, and it didn't sound very fun or pretty. But is that his opinion, or are his views colored by his flash learning? It's something to consider on another date, certainly.

He's momentarily startled when the tendril approaches him, having been so focused on the painting. He quickly recovers and allows the pat on his shoulder. It's just another limb, after all. He truly appreciates that Glenn sees him as an individual, and not just Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo brought back to life, the way the Chiss down below looked at him.

"When you finish decorating your room, I would like to see it."

"Sure. If you want a preview, the Morpho has a similar setup."

Having noticed the brief startled behavior, he double-checks to make sure he hasn't overstepped. When no negative reaction occurs, the tendril coils and flicks like the end of a cat's tail for a few seconds.

"You're welcome in there regardless. Just knock if I'm in there."

A beat, and he pulls his datapad back out again, visibly excited, and then turns on the surveillance system's feed, showing what's visible from one of the cameras. With another button press, he turns his room's lighting on to make the colors display a little more accurately.

The camera shows a view of sketches lining every wall, varying from insects to landscapes, invention schematics, and portraits. Most of the portraits are of his mate, and there are even a few self-portraits of a particular black wolf (some along with his mate) and several of the drawings have some amount of color. Even the anti-Force-field device has a spot on the wall, next to every previous schematic in chronological order from left to right, all of them with visible dates on the corner, written in both his native and this world's system. (A pretty gory device, all things considered, as each one has a miniature, organic heart in the first several prototypes. If nothing else, it only further paints how much Glenn was ready and willing to give up literal parts of himself for the sake of others.)

The walls themselves have etchings from end to end, with butterflies and vines and plants carved into every wall with delicate care.

"Here, take a look if you want to."

When was the last time he felt excited to show someone his work? Too long, he decides.

Thrawn takes a look at the drawings, his face getting that deeply interested and introspective look that his template would get when he looked at art. Yes, he sees many interesting things in these pieces and they tell him a lot about the man before him. He likes insects, and his mate was something of a muse to him. It's also clear to him how much Glenn sacrificed parts of his body to make things, knowing that he can regenerate them. Still, that says many things about Glenn, and he wonders if this is what drew the original Thrawn to him.

"I see you have an interest in nature. I thank you for letting me see these drawings, and I will have to go to your ship to see them in person some time."

For just a minuscule moment, his mate's features are visible to him through this younger stranger's. In the next flicker, it's gone. Glenn ignores the faint sensation of loss that follows, and instead maintains his earlier eagerness.

"At your leisure, of course."

For now, he's content to let Thrawn continue to look via the cameras as much as he wants to.

"Do any of them stand out to you, as it is?"

"Of course. The drawing of your lupine form, and how it is a reflection of how you see yourself when you take that form," The camera pans over to another drawing. "This piece was clearly inspired by my template, and it stands out among the others in particular as well." The art is lovingly rendered, the subject matter deeply loved by the artist. If he wasn't told ahead of time, then he would figure out just from these drawings that the two were deeply in love.

"I am not familiar with some of these insects. I suppose they are unique to your world."

"Many of them are. I still think fondly of my birthplace, and I grew up surrounded by several of those insects depicted. In particular, the butterflies had a migratory path through my home. During the warm seasons, all you could see was a rush of color and flapping wings for several days as they ate and moved on. The home I grew up in was often surrounded by large wildflower fields, so it's easy to understand why that home would become a hot spot for them.

"My ship is named after one such butterfly, known for its iridescent blue coloration and moderate size."

A beat.

"I still have a compendium of butterfly data regarding those from my planet, not that it's particularly useful here."

Thinking a moment, he gives a little shake of his head.

"But regarding my artistic application of that bestial shape, as my mental state has changed over time, I do believe that you are a little bit wrong about it. Or at least, what it means to me these days."

He thinks a moment as to how to phrase himself.

"It is not specifically about how I see myself while in that state, but what one could say about dogs as a whole. What they can represent. I did originally see myself as separate from it in another way, in which, your observation in that regard would be completely correct.

"But now... it is only me. It isn't that it's another "part" of me. If that makes any sense."

He shifts his weight a little, and fiddles with a feather.

"I'm uncertain if I can elaborate. I'm finding the words to be difficult to find at the moment... But suffice it to say, in the past, I found myself to be unnecessary, not worth seeing. I always drew myself in the dark, obscured by shadows. To bring even this rendition of myself into lighter parts of portraiture... Does what I mean make better sense now?"

His gaze warms all the same, regarding the other portrait of his mate.

"My mate helped me remember what it was like to live. How warm it felt, and how I could, even if only for that time with him, work past or put aside the pain and cold of loss and loneliness. How could I not bring that warmth out when illustrating him?"

His eyes drift shut as he recalls such things, the warmth of a touch no longer here, the scent of him after just waking up from slumber.

It's bittersweet, and he has many tears left, but while they linger at his eyes, they don't fall even when he opens them again.

He's pretty sure it's likely because of his mental age and, frankly, slowness to age and eventually die, himself. Otherwise, perhaps, accepting the change caused by the march of time would be easier...?

But-- at least he's not still trapped in the cold divide of not feeling inclined to live, while not also wanting to die. He's awake. He's alive.

And there's still so much to do before he can follow his mate in death.

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