boxofmisfits | Plucked From the Clutches of Death

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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."

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Thrawn and Thrass gazed at the artifact, both of them curious despite the feeling that it gave them. Thrawn saw it as a piece of art, his mind making connections, while Thrass found it morbidly fascinating.

Thrawn moved slightly, as if he was about to lean into the touch. It didn't go unnoticed by Thrass. "Yes, let's," Thrawn agreed. They both followed Altair downstairs, Thrass moving his scarf back to its original position. Not that it helped with that chill he felt.

They stopped in front of a rug showing a bright and colorful pattern. Thrass looked to the side and said, "I think I'll go browse the gift shop for a little while to see if there's anything I'd like." Without a word from Thrawn, Thrass slipped away.

Altair tilted his head as Thrass slipped away, curious as to why he hurried off in such a manner. Altair had thought that the two brothers would stick close together for most of the vacation, considering it was a chance to relax without worrying about anything else. Though he supposed a quick run to the gift shop wouldn't take Thrass very long. Altair also considered going there himself, before they left the museum, to see if there was anything of interest, or anything that would be a good gift for the few friends he'd made and for Lorana too. Of course they would also have plenty more opportunities to shop.

For now though, he turned his attention back to the colorful rug, looking at it with a not insignificant amount of interest.

"I can't read into it like you can, but these colors are beautiful."

Altair didn't particularly consider himself a cheerful person, but he did like cheerful things, and especially things that were colorful.

"That shade of red in particular is lovely. It reminds me rather of your eyes."

His own eyes were red too, of course, as were the eyes of all Chiss, but still. The lovely red in that colorful pattern reminded him more of Thrawn's eyes than any other Chiss, he thought. Just a feeling.

Thrawn watched his brother until he was out of sight, before turning back to the rug, letting it tell him all about those who made it.

He took his eyes off the rug to glance at Altair curiously, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of purple. "Thank you."

Turning back to the rug, he said, "This rug was made using a primitive loom, but the artisans knew special dying techniques in order to make the colors stand out the way they do." He slipped out of his 'lecturer' mindset for a moment, "That blue for example, which is the same shade as your hair."

"I think that color is much too vibrant and lovely to be compared to my hair. I like that though," He said, pointing to a part that was a much darker blue, interspersed with shimmering white, "It looks like the night sky with streaks of shooting stars going through it. I... Suppose that reminds me of your hair. It's beautiful."

Still, he couldn't help but look at the lighter shade that Thrawn had pointed out too. It was pretty. Though Altair really did think that his hair wasn't vibrant enough of a shade to be compared to it.

"I think I might like this sort of art a little more than I like paintings. Feels more familiar, I suppose."

Thrawn ran a hand over his hair, fingers brushing the grey streaks. It had been years since anyone complimented his hair, and this was the first time anyone complimented his hair since he developed strands of grey. He'd gotten comments that it made him look dignified, but never beautiful. Was that Altair's way of saying that his own hair looked like shooting stars in the night sky?

"Yes, weaving and embroidery aren't so different. The things you do with thread are just as informative and lovely as any painting. You are wrong about the light blue, however. Your hair is quite vibrant."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, then," Altair said, with a smile. And though his face was usually dusted with a lovely purple anyway, that shade deepened a little as he blushed. Though others had complimented him in the past, he had thought that Chiss might find his hair color too unusual to have any positive opinion about it. Aden had never said anything, but... Well, it was unusual for a Chiss to have hair as light as his.

"I definitely prefer the look of your hair though. Like shooting stars through the night sky indeed."

Perhaps that was an odd compliment. It was the first thing to spring to mind though. Altair had been quite scared of Thrawn when they first met, despite his attempts to control it. He had thought that Thrawn was quite an attractive man even back then though, with a special fondness for that lovely hair.

"I apologize if you find that an odd remark to make. It's just the first thought to pop into my head when I think of how to describe it."

Thrawn touched his hair again, like he was smoothing it out, his finger tracing one of his streaks near his ear. Thrass had said it was odd to see him with such visible signs of aging, especially since Thrawn had been three years younger than him before.

"I don't find it an odd remark at all. In fact, I rather like the compliment."

"I'm glad, since I did mean it as a compliment. It's so beautiful that I am almost envious."

He had commented before that he would tell Thrass about his ability to soothe Thrawn to sleep if he saw more white hairs appearing, but that had been a comment made out of concern for Thrawn's stress levels. Not that he disliked the way those pale strands looked against his dark hair.

"What else can you tell me about this?" He asked then, as a distraction, feeling a stab of self-consciousness, punctuated by the fact that he could feel his face heat up just a little bit. He'd complimented Thrawn before of course, but. This felt a little different.

There was a plaque with a little bit of information he could read, of course, but he much preferred learning what Thrawn could see.

Edited 2022-01-04 08:13 (UTC)

Thrawn's cheeks almost seemed to turn a deeper shade of purple, but he refrained from touching his hair again. He actually found himself wishing that Altair were touching it again. Running those thin fingers through his dark strands, tugging on them...

He quickly turned back to the rug. "I believe it was more for decoration, something to hang on the wall. A parent would have made it to celebrate the birth of their first child. The pattern represents new life and adding to a family."

Thrass came around the corner just then, looking too pleased with himself. "Well, I see you two are getting along."

Thrawn didn't say anything about how Thrass hadn't been gone long enough to have walked to the gift shop, looked around, and come right back. His brother liked to take his time when he was shopping, and he had no shopping bag in hand.

"Then its meaning is as beautiful as its appearance."

Altair had never wanted children of his own, still didn't- he didn't think himself capable of caring for such new and vulnerable life, worrying that something inside him might be terribly broken enough to turn him into his own parents. And he would never want to put someone innocent through the same thing he had suffered. But he'd seen families grow. Seen the beauty of it.

Even during the war, on Odessen, families had found a place, and children had been born on a world probably not suited for it. He'd even had those who wished for his blessings for a child, though he was Sith, and certain that any blessing he could give would be seen as curses by most.

It truly was beautiful though. And Altair was glad to see art representing such a joyous occasion, preserved like this for all to see.

He tilted his head when Thrass came back around the corner, surprised by his swift return. If he ran, he'd probably have been able to go to the gift shop and back, but...

"We always do. We are friends, after all," He said, plainly, in response to the quip that he and Thrawn were getting along. Why wouldn't they be, after all.

"Couldn't find anything of interest, by the way?" He asked, raising a brow. A museum like this should probably have some interesting things in its gift shop, but... Well, perhaps not, if Thrass hadn't found a single thing he liked.

"I simply figured that I could make my purchases once we all had a chance to visit the gift shop," Thrass said innocently. Technically his statement was true, but Thrawn didn't buy for a minute that Thrass had wandered off too far. Whatever game his brother was playing at, Thrawn wasn't quite sure.

"Altair and I were simply discussing the piece before us," Thrawn replied. Thrass raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I see. I suppose that makes sense. Less to carry around the entire time that way."

Perhaps he'd thought of that on the way and just come back. That made sense to Altair, at least. Though he imagined they'd all be bogged down by bags full of purchases by the end of the day. Best to not start the day off like that when there was still plenty of museum left to explore before they moved on elsewhere.

He looked back to the rug on display as Thrawn explained what they'd been doing, and smiled, eyes drawn back to that dark part with the white lines. He liked the red that resembled Thrawn's eyes too, and the piece in its entirety for the joyful feeling it gave him, but the part that reminded him of that dark hair with its dignified and lovely strands of grey was definitely his favorite.

"I was saying that that part is very pretty," He said, gesturing to it, "It looks a lot like Thrawn's hair, doesn't it?"

Thrass smirked knowingly at Altair. "That it does." He looked at his brother and saw his cheeks heating up, even as he kept that stoic look he always did. He swore he was about to knock their heads together at this point.

"Likewise, I was telling Altair how that lighter thread there is much like his own hair, and is equally lovely," Thrawn said, apparently oblivious to Thrass raising an eyebrow at him.

"I've already argued that he's out of his mind and that there's no way my hair is that vibrant," Altair said, though there was no bite to his words- he didn't mean them as an insult, after all. If anything there was a shyness in his tone, that showed ever so slightly on his face. Or rather, to a human it would be a slight look. On a Chiss, it was quite expressive indeed.

"I appreciate it regardless though. I can recognize a compliment when I hear one."

Besides Aden, Thrawn was probably the only other Chiss to ever compliment the light color of his hair in such a direct and honest way. No Chiss besides his parents and grandparents had ever said a bad word about his hair- how could they, when Altair ran the other way upon seeing one- but he knew that it had to be a sign of his mixed blood. And while he personally didn't mind being a half-breed, he'd never met any other mixed breed Chiss before, and so assumed they were rare and probably unwanted. So he figured his hair color would probably be seen as unsightly by most.

"My older brother is the only other person who's ever said he thinks my hair color is lovely. He said it in an unbelievably rude way though. I don't think he was capable of communicating with others in any other way, really."

With the exception of just one person, that was. But that was in the past, and hardly something he should waste Thrawn and Thrass's time with talking about.

"You left a brother behind in your time?" Thrass asked sadly. "Oh dear, Thrawn and I have been flaunting our relationship right in front of you." Even if it was unintentional, he still felt a sudden wave of guilt.

"You should tell us about him some time," Thrawn suggested. If he too felt that guilt, he was doing a good job of hiding it.

Altair smiled, because Thrass was truly a very gentle person, to feel guilt for such a thing. Altair didn't want him to feel guilty though, because their reunion was a joyous thing. Even though he didn't have his own brother with him, even though he still missed him, he was wholeheartedly happy for the two of them, that he could reunite them through that strange quirk in the Force.

"I'm glad for it. It makes me happy to see the two of you happy. I wouldn't want either of you to do anything differently. I don't want it now, either."

Altair missed Aden, more than he really wanted to admit, but still. His loss shouldn't put a damper on the brothers' joy.

"There's not much to tell, really. We didn't grow up together, we were bound through the Force and not through blood. When I first saw him, it felt as we were two pieces of the same soul, broken apart before our births by some strange circumstance, to be reunited in adulthood. He was incredibly rude, unsociable, and extremely violent. He was also the kindest man I've ever met."

For a given value of kindness, at least. But to Altair, he'd been perfect.

"I still don't know how I came to be in this time, but I am glad he did not come with me. I don't think I could have ever forgiven myself if I had taken him away from the man he loved more than life itself. Instead I content myself with the thought that he lived to be incredibly old alongside his love."

He shrugged, "Besides, my brother isn't the only person I left behind. I left behind my best friends. My first love, and my second, too. My people, and my Empire. If I was to feel sorrow for every single person I left behind, then I'd be doing nothing but drowning in it."

That was how he felt, anyway.

"Arriving in this time was unexpected, and there are times I wish I could find my way back, but there are people in this time I'd miss just as much too. People just as precious as any person I knew in the past."

"Even if he was abrasive, I would have liked to have met him," Thrawn said.

"As would I," Thrass agreed. "Still, I think I know how you feel. I too have family and friends that I will never see again." Thrawn had informed him that their mother had passed away a few years after his exile. Not to mention their adopted family members back at the Ascendancy, including the patriarch, whom Thrass had been close with. "And Lorana, all of her friends and mentors died in the Jedi purge." He wished there was a way they could all have what they wanted. Altair's friends and brother back, Altair's brother's lover with him, all one big family.

"We have all felt the pain of loss," Thrawn said. "I went decades having mourned you. I was simply lucky enough that Altair found a way to reunite us." He moved on to the next piece, which was a red clay urn.

"Abrasive may be too mild a word to describe how he was," Altair said, with a soft laugh. Abrasive was how Aden had been when he was in a good mood. Altair still missed his foul attitude though, because even though he'd been rude, he was that way in a way that still said he cared. He'd still try to do the right thing, even when it was a hassle, even though someone else with his disposition would just give themselves over to doing the wrong thing to make life a bit easier.

"I don't think there's a person in the galaxy who hasn't experienced loss. It's painful, and sometimes it's easy to be angry about it, to get stuck in those emotions... But it's best to keep moving. To grieve and accept that it's probably always going to hurt, but have enough hope to keep on going anyway, too."

That definitely was strange coming from a Sith, he knew. Sith were masters of stewing in pain and rage after all. Even Altair used his own every once in a while, like back when he had first met Thrawn and killed that warlord and his cronies. But had he given himself over to those feelings completely- the anger and the loss- then he wouldn't be standing here with Thrawn and Thrass now.

"I still have the hope that I won't always be sad about all that I've lost here too. I did say recently that by the time I could find a way back to my time, perhaps I'd have as many reasons to stay as to go."

He did briefly look to Thrawn as he said this, before turning his gaze to the clay urn.

"But that loss isn't always caused by such unusual circumstances as time travel." Thrass pointed out. They still hadn't quite figured out what they were going to tell the other Chiss when Thrawn presented his supposedly dead brother to them. Thrawn wanted to keep the existence of time travel a secret. Thrawn was currently leaning towards the story that he had cloned his brother.

Thrawn glanced at Altair, before turning back to the urn. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he wanted to keep Altair in this time, and didn't want him going back.

Once they explored the rest of the museum, they finally hit the gift shop. Thrass went to look at some jewelry that caught his eye, while Thrawn looked at prints of the artwork he'd seen today.

The amount of different items available in the gift shop was suitably impressive. Both the things representing the items on display in the museum itself as well as unrelated items ranging from quite pretty to downright bizarre. Some was art made by local artists too, which was nice to see. Ancient art was lovely, considering all the history behind it, but Altair liked seeing more current art on display as well.

He eventually ended up in front of a display of keychains- drawn to one based on the rug they'd seen earlier, with those same lovely colors.

He really couldn't help but be tempted to buy it, even though plenty of other things were catching his interest too.

Thrawn considered buying a print of a watercolor they'd seen, or perhaps a miniature replica of a statue exhibit. He also thought of buying a print of something he hadn't seen at the museum, but was done by a local. He wound up wandering over to Altair while Thrass continued to ponder over what to buy.

"You really must have liked that rug."

"... Ah. Well. I really liked the colors," Altair said, feeling himself flush just a little, the purple color of his cheeks intensifying a little, and spreading to the tips of his ears as well, and he brought a hand up to awkwardly toy with his hair a little, curling pale strands around a finger. There had been plenty of other art he'd liked on display, and had there been something in the gift shop resembling that Sith relic he'd probably have gotten that too. But... Well, he supposed he really had liked that rug.

On the keychain, the part that Altair had liked the most- the part that reminded him of Thrawn's hair- was quite prominent.

It wasn't so strange that he liked the color, was it? It was pretty. It wasn't unusual to be drawn to quite pretty things.

"I'm thinking of getting one of those too," He said, in attempt to deflect a little, nodding towards some rather kitschy mugs on display.

"So I've noticed." And yet Altair's artwork tended to favor bright colors, with darker colors mainly being used in contrast, or if he chose a subject that happened to have darker colors.

"Those mugs are certainly nice, and would be suitable to hold your tea. There is also no reason you cannot get both the keychain and the mug."

"I know. But it's still early, and I'm certain we'll visit more shops today."

Altair was certain that as the day went on, they'd visit many shops and buy many things. Perhaps not together, since Altair was determined to let Thrawn enjoy his vacation alongside his brother, but still. Altair had already read up on some good shops to visit to buy art supplies, and he imagined that he'd buy a lot.

So best not to go crazy in the museum's gift shop, even if there were plenty of things besides the keychain and the mug he could see that he would like to get.

"I think I'll get the keychain. I like it more than the mug, anyway."

"Excellent choice," Thrawn nodded. He looked over his shoulder, "It looks like Thrass has finally decided on something too."

Sure enough, Thrass came over with a necklace in hand. The necklace was a silver chain, holding a small pendant with a rather simple sun design on it. It looked close enough to the Mitth sun symbol, which was no doubt why Thrass was drawn to it. Thrawn ended up picking out a book about artistic pottery, before they took their items to the check out stand to pay.

"Where shall we go next?" Thrass asked.

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