boxofmisfits | Plucked From the Clutches of Death

Entry tags:

Plucked From the Clutches of Death

Ever since coming to the future, following the Force's whims had been something Altair had done less and less. He could still sense it, of course. Shutting himself off completely would be unacceptable to him, as it had always been his companion of sorts and while it would probably lead to less shenanigans, he could not close his eyes and cover his ears. He could hear the whispers, feel the threads of it weaving through the galaxy and it was beautiful. When he meditated whispers became a distant song, and threads became beckoning guides that wanted to lead him to far off places.

In the past, he would have let himself get swept along as time allowed, always certain that someone would be there to pick up any momentary slack. In this time, while he had faith in Thrawn's people and Thrawn himself, he couldn't justify taking the time to rush off whenever some new thread weaved itself into the galaxy's tapestry. There were no other Sith who would pick up his slack, and he had promised to assist Thrawn with his goal, after all. Tempting as it was to let himself drift in the river of fate to let it carry him to new and strange places, give him new and strange riches, he wouldn't, and couldn't.

At least that had been the case until a particularly insistent call in the Force had become too much to ignore.

It wasn't dangerous, was what he had said to Thrawn, upon seeking permission to leave for a time. Not dangerous. Not like the fleet, not like the Silencers, and Iokath. It just was. That nebulous concept had been what was most difficult to explain, really. But whether or not Thrawn understood didn't matter, because he had, at least, seen his seriousness and respected it.

Altair wondered what he'd think now.

The Force had led him to an ancient temple- Altair still wasn't certain if it was Sith or Jedi in origin- and that temple had led him to a strange place. Branching paths and moments in time. For a while he had wandered- admittedly he'd sought a way back to his own time. It would have broken his promise, which he hated doing, but still. A part of him would always miss his people.

He hadn't found it though.

But he had found many strange artifacts. Plucked them from moments in time whenever the Force felt like it was urging him to do so. Whether that was some kleptomaniac instinct or actually the Force though, he wasn't sure. Maybe both.

Through one such window into the past, he'd come across someone in a situation that wouldn't end well. Plucking items out of these moments was one thing- would maybe end in a bruised ego or two somewhere far in the past- but people? Still, it was the only glimpse that was truly an open door to be reached through. The Force was quiet, not urging him one way or another, despite its strong presence in the silence between moments and its somewhat subtle insistence that he claim artifacts before. In the end though, when given the opportunity to save someone, he had.

The idea of simply leaving someone to die when all he had to do to save them was reach out his hand pained him. He couldn't do it.

And so, outside of the temple in the dark and quiet night, he sat with the two people he'd rescued by the fire they'd built for light and warmth while they waited for morning to come so they could head for the ship he'd borrowed with the promise that he'd bring it back in one piece, without fear of anything that might be lurking in the blackness of the forest the temple was surrounded by.

It had been day when Altair had entered the temple and found his way into that strange place, and while he felt no more hunger than usual, Altair could somehow tell that this was not the first night that had passed since he first arrived. He assumed it had been a few days, at least.

He wondered how he was going to explain this one though.

A Chiss and a Jedi who- while remaining nearby- was perhaps expectedly standoffish in the presence of a Sith. Out of the two of them, Altair figured he'd have most luck talking to the Chiss, though they'd all exchanged relatively few words even now. Shock, Altair assumed.

Seemed the most likely explanation, and also understandable. Expecting death only to be yanked through the veil of death and time to safety was probably a lot to deal with for people who weren't used to it.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I have allies who will be able to help you. Wherever you may want to go, I'm certain it can be arranged."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"As it has also evaded you," Altair commented, with a slight bit of humor in his tone. They were both rather familiar with insomnia, for one reason or another, "I brought you some tea."

He moved closer to put the cup for Thrawn down on his desk, before withdrawing to take up a position by the door as he so often did, undoing his mask to set it aside so he could drink his own tea before it got cold. His pale hair was somewhat uncharacteristically messy, suggesting that he might have tried to sleep earlier in the night, but had given up, and just not bothered to brush his hair back into its usual neat style while working on other things.

"Too much doom and gloom on your mind again?" He asked, though despite the attempt at humor in his choice of words, his tone was sincere- even worried.

"Any more nights like this and I might suggest that I come soothe you to sleep with the Force from now on, you know."

That was a joke. Sincerely.

"Thank you." Thrawn picked up his cup and sipped from it. As usual, Thrawn's office was lit up with holos of various works of art, from various planets. They ranged from sculptures to paintings, and even pieces that looked like it was impossible to make them with five-fingered hands.

"I'm sure Thrass would support that suggestion." His brother wasn't too pleased when he found out that Thrawn still had late nights where he chose to stay up and work.

"I imagine he would, yes."

Thrass knew Thrawn better than anyone, after all. Altair had remarked to Thrass that Thrawn worked harder than even he did, but Thrass knew that fact more intimately than anyone. It was only natural that Thrass worried. Altair worried too, or he wouldn't have joked about soothing him to sleep in the first place.

"I am capable, should it be something you need to consider. I used to do it for my brother in the past. I don't think I mentioned, but he was a Chiss too. Not a mixed breed like I am, but a proper proud Chiss. It's how I know I can influence Chiss minds even if I can't get a read on them."

He raised his gaze, glancing around at the holos of the various works of art. He wondered what Thrawn could read from looking at them all. Though he imagined that even given a small eternity, he wouldn't be able to get half as good of a read on them. Thrawn's ability to see things he could not often felt rather like genuine magic, with no trick behind it that could be taught to someone else. But then, he imagined his own Force sensitivity probably seemed like that to others too.

"I won't mention that I can do that to Thrass yet though, unless I feel like we both need to talk some sense into you. Like if you get a few more strands of grey in the near future, for example."

"I will keep that in mind, if you and he truly believe that I need to sleep more often." Thrass had sometimes made a quip that Thrawn was going to make him go prematurely grey if he kept putting himself in dangerous situations.

Part of him still felt a pang of guilt at the fact that while he'd gotten his own brother back, Altair was unlikely to ever see his own brother again. Thus, Thrawn hadn't made a big deal out of Thrass's return since he'd thanked Altair for reuniting them. It was interesting to find out that he'd had a close relationship with another Chiss before he'd met Thrawn, though.

"I trust that things are working out with Lorana?"

Many of the crew were surprised to have a Jedi on board, since many of them had never met a Jedi. The younger crew members assumed they were just legends. Some who were old enough to remember the Clone Wars were wary that she would turn on them, even after Thrawn's insistence that her loyalty belonged to him and Altair now.

"We do."

It was said without even a second of hesitation, though with a bit of a laugh. He wasn't really one to talk, he supposed. He often worked himself to exhaustion too. He was Sith though. He was meant to endure anything for the sake of his ambition.

"She's an eager student. Bright and kind. The way she looks at me sometimes makes me nervous though. I don't think she's afraid of me any more, but having her look at me so earnestly for guidance is a little scary, even though I am willing to give it."

Ashara had not looked to him so completely for guidance even once. She'd been stubborn and opinionated, and not once had she ever hesitated in arguing with him. If she thought he was wrong, she had recklessly butted heads with him. And Xalek had been ever the Sith. There had been times when he could sense Xalek's disagreement over some decision he made, but a delicate touch or a stern hand had never been necessary. Altair's only regret with Xalek was that he hadn't been there when he'd become a Lord proper, the one and only time he could have been needed.

"I can only guide her as a Sith would, after all. But, she is diligent. She's got potential- a lot of it. And I imagine I'll feel less awkward once I get to know her better, too."

"Her world view was shaken during her time on Outbound Flight," Thrawn took another sip of his tea. "It made her realize that the Jedi are not as infallible as she believed, and that anyone can fall to the dark side. She is desperate for guidance, questioning what she knew, and therefor open to what you have to teach her, just as she looks to me for leadership."

From what Thrass told him, she was very brave in the face of death. Perhaps she would have made a good Jedi Knight had she gone back to the old republic, or joined the new one. Whatever she had been made to feel by the Jedi, they had been poor judges of character.

"She told me that in her time, there was very little information about the Sith, and it was assumed that they were extinct. It would seem that the Jedi of your era tried to erase most of your history, in a misguided attempt to prevent the Sith from returning." It was impossible to miss the disapproval in Thrawn's voice. Fortunately, the Hand managed to gather quite a lot of history of the Sith of previous Empires, including Altair's. Thank the stars for Sith historians and cultists.

Edited 2021-12-24 02:19 (UTC)

"She is. And I will do my best to guide her to become who she wants, without too much focus on the Jedi or the Sith."

It wasn't like Jedi or Sith was all there was, after all. And Altair had always preferred more of a balance, rather than stray too far into the dark or the light. It wasn't a path for everyone, but Lorana would have to decide that for herself under his guidance. And he wasn't lying when he said she was an eager student. Altair thought that as soon as they got past the awkwardness, they'd both do just fine.

"They were doing that while my people were still alive, too. The razing of the great Sith library Veeshas Tuwan, the looting and destruction of Sith relics... My apprentice Ashara once called it confiscating, and I found that to be the perfect euphemism. As the head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge in my time, I found what they were doing to be rather a personal slight. The Sith and the members of the Imperial Reclamation Service did much to reclaim and study ancient Sith relics and to protect our history from those who would destroy it, but... How much survives to this day, I couldn't say."

Korriban had been sacked a couple of times, followed by the invasion by the Eternal Empire, and a war that raged for years, immediately being followed by yet another war between his Empire and the Galactic Republic and their Jedi protectors. How much of what he had tried to safeguard had been lost or destroyed during all of that. How much had been lost or destroyed in the thousand of years that had passed since.

It hurt to even think about.

"You could call me a living relic of that time of course, but... It's rather painful to think of how much has been lost. One could argue that as an alien I have no claim to the history of the Sith, but my ancestor, Aloysius Kallig, was a Pureblood and I am the last of the Kallig bloodline, so I take it rather personally anyway."

He sipped his tea, though he looked rather thoughtful, "And the Jedi were idiots, of course. How many signs that could have changed their fate did they miss, I wonder, that they might have caught if they did not try to deny that the Sith ever existed. And how many philosophies that could have given them a more whole image of the Force did they write off as evil, simply because it did not conform with their own."

Altair didn't necessary hate the Jedi, even though he was certain that it sounded like he did. He just thought they were idiots, even if he was wise enough to not voice that exact sentiment when working with Lorana, at least.

"I appreciate that you sound like you disapprove. I don't think you would have liked my Empire much had you been there, but... Well. It meant a lot to me."

"They saved just enough to remind themselves that the Sith exist," Though according to Lorana, she and some of the younger Jedi had never even heard of the Sith until right after the Battle of Naboo, which was just a few years before the voyage of Outbound Flight. To her, Jedi who fell to the dark were known as Dark Jedi, though Thrawn wasn't sure how different a Sith was from a Dark Jedi. Perhaps that was why she'd been receptive to Altair.

"You are correct, in that burying history and denying it happened it not how one prevents the Sith from returning. It merely leaves one unprepared for when they inevitably rise again." Perhaps the Jedi would have found out about Palpatine sooner had they known what to look for.

"Unfortunately the Jedi were stupid. I never liked them much. But I didn't wish for all their deaths, either. Certainly not to bury their entire culture."

He'd met a few Jedi who were reasonable. Not a whole lot, but enough to know that they weren't all a lost cause. Enough that he thought that with enough work, perhaps there could have been peace. Of course, he never could have seen this- ending up in the future- coming. So his dreams of peace between Sith and Jedi were lost.

"That's enough doom and gloom for one night though, I think. I brought you something."

He pulled out what he'd brought along- two embroideries- moving over to the other Chiss to give it to him. The embroideries were of an arrangement flowers, the same one for both works, with just a bit of variation in the meticulous stitches. They were hand-made after all, so of course there'd be a little bit of difference between them.

"I started these the same day that I brought Thrass back. One for you, and one for him. Together the flowers mean happy reunions and good fortune."

Well-wishes, certainly. He didn't know much it meant coming from a Sith, but he hoped it meant enough coming from a friend.

"Your brother being here is cause for celebration, you know."

Thrawn had been rather quiet about it, and Altair wasn't sure if that was due to the busy nature of his life, or because he was being careful to not seem too overjoyed for Altair's sake, or something else. But Altair did think it was something that should be celebrated.

Thrawn accepted the artwork, looking it over and unable to help but analyze it. Looking at art the way he did was an unconscious habit, and it was simply something that he couldn't shut off. But the way he looked at this art in particular, it wasn't just that of a strategist looking for clues. An appreciative smile appeared on his lips.

"Very fitting flowers indeed. Thank you, Altair. I'm certain that my brother will like it, when you give him the matching piece."

"I think it's better if you give him the matching piece. I worry that it may look strange to him for me to give it to him."

He was on friendly terms with Thrass, certainly. And they were getting to know each other too. But Altair wasn't sure they were yet at the point where he felt confident enough to hand over some of his artwork himself, even if he had made the embroideries for both of them. Once he got more confident, then perhaps he would gift something else to Thrass in the future. He did work on making art quite often, after all.

"I think I will also soon ask you to come on shore leave with me, as we have discussed in the past. If there is any important business that must be done first, then I will of course wait, but... I was thinking that we could bring Thrass along as well. I can run off on an adventure to get inspired, and the two of you can use the time however you'd like."

Altair would have preferred to have a companion to travel with, of course, but all things considered, he didn't want to separate the brothers from each other so soon.

"That way you can rest and I won't have to come to nag you in the dead of night about getting some sleep for a while."

"I will give it to him at breakfast." He set both embroideries on his desk, then drank the last few drops of his tea. He set the empty cup aside.

"Of course he may accompany us. Seeing as Nuso Esva has gone quiet, I suppose I could make time for shore leave very soon." Parck could run the ship in his stead and alert him right away if something unexpectedly came up. He trusted his crew.

"I think that would be a good idea. Running yourself ragged will only serve your enemies well."

Perhaps he was the last person who should lecture someone about that, considering he often worked himself hard enough to get sick, but still. He had always been the type who worried more for his loved ones than he did for himself. He would endure, regardless. He had made a career out of surviving things he technically shouldn't have.

But he hated seeing loved ones suffer. And Thrawn counted, he supposed.

He hesitated a moment, before reaching up to gently touch the tips of his clawed gloves to a few strands of grey in Thrawn's hair, ever so slightly messing up that neat look of his hair, though he pulled his hand away fairly quickly. His smile was a bit amused and maybe a bit mischievous as well, "Ten more strands of grey though, until then. If I see ten more strands of grey before shore leave, I am letting your brother know that I can soothe you to sleep with the Force. And I don't think you could turn both of our concerns away."

A slight widening of the eyes was the only reaction Thrawn had to the touch. He didn't answer for a few seconds, before he smoothed his hair back into place and replied, "I don't foresee that being a problem."

Altair's touch hadn't been bad or unwelcome. In fact, it had felt rather nice, even with those clawed gloves. He found himself wishing Altair would do it again. The sudden thought of Altair pulling on his hair entered his mind, but Thrawn brushed it away.

"Good. I'll still keep an eye on you though."

He stepped back and gave a slight polite bow of the head, and then moved to slip his mask back on, ensuring that it was securely on before pulling his hood back up. Thrawn and Thrass certainly got to see him without it, and a couple of scared doctors and a droid knew, but to everyone else Altair was determined to stay a kind of scary and mysterious Sith Lord of indeterminate species.

"I'll be going back to my room now then. Try to get some sleep. I shall, as well."

He doubted he'd get any, but he would go back to trying, at least. His visit to Thrawn hadn't been a very long one, but then, he hadn't intended it to be, either. A hot cup of tea, a chat, and some artwork being handed over. It was enough to hopefully help him quiet his mind a little, at least.

"Goodnight, Thrawn. May your dreams be sweet," He said, with a final little bow, before turning to leave so he could return to his own quarters.

"Likewise, I should try to sleep. And I promise to make a habit out of not staying up." He and Thrass were right, in that he wasn't good to anybody if he was running on too little sleep. Perhaps he should have felt ganged-up on, but they were only concerned about him.

"Goodnight, Altair Kallig." As promised, when Altair left, Thrawn actually changed into his pajamas and went to sleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Plucked From the Clutches of Death

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject