Mirror Image

[admiralchiss]

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.

Comments

[reorienting]

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?"

[admiralchiss]

"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."

[reorienting]

"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.