Altair Kallig (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kallig) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
boxofmisfits2021-10-22 04:14 am
kallig) wrote in boxofmisfits2021-10-22 04:14 am
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."
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"Goodnight, Altair Kallig." As promised, when Altair left, Thrawn actually changed into his pajamas and went to sleep.