Shout out to Cleopatra, The last true Pharaoh of Egypt.
Chapter two
Antiques and Oddities
Druscillia stood naked with her confidant, Marlanda Ison hunched over her hand to adhese* sharp black nails to the ends of her fingers, knelt below them was her Pantoran makeup artist Kiku Kisha, who used a pigmentation gun* to very carefully colour her thigh red.
There was something to the feel of the liquefied crystals that curled Druscillia up inside and plucked out the straight lines of her personality. She looked over at Talent Malone, who stood a little way away with his hands on his hips and watched the proceedings with a critical frown on his face.
Drew Blood's team of diligent handmaidens.
She pouted her lips into a kiss at the sight of her own reflection. Kiku's work was as usual, outstanding. She was now mostly a brilliant shade of red, with deeper hues to contour her angles and lighter hues up to pink for highlighting.
When she was between Drew Blood and Druscillia— wigless and both white and red of flesh— she felt like a clean blank slate.
"So, Drew, Marl tells us you're seeing someone now."
Druscillia looked down at the top of Kiku's head. "You mean Thrawn." Her lips pursed into a smile. "He's a work in progress."
"What do you mean by a work in progress?" Kiku asked.
It was Marlanda who answered, "She means he doesn't want to be seen with her outside of the Motti Gallery." Though Marlanda bit her bottom lip in what looked like an effort to keep from laughing, she continued to work conscientiously on Druscillia's nails.
Druscillia flushed angrily but couldn't help but snort with laughter— it was all so absurd. It had been a good six months since she had first mustered the courage to speak with Thrawn and since then she had been nothing but delightful, charming and generous.
She had elaborate meals prepared for him, she had performed private dances for him— he seemed to enjoy those very much— and she had made the galleries resources available to him in any way he wanted, whenever he wanted, Stars, she had even managed to throw in a few of dick jokes along the way.
What more could he want?
Thrawn, no matter how annoying it was for her that he kept such a tight reign over his conduct, no one else would do. Druscillia wanted to believe that anyone with that level of control would have a particularly fervent seed of frustration buried deep inside. She desired to dig out that seed, drench it and watch it grow.
She exhaled roughly, as she felt a stab of awareness up and in-between her legs.
"Don't worry about it, love," Talent said with a knowing smile. He crowned her with a blonde wig then fluffed out its bangs. "There are plenty of galleries on Coruscant. You made your move and he continues to show up for more, so…"
"Exactly," Druscillia said. "And we do make good use of our time together— even if it is boring half the time." She snatched her hand from Marlanda's and inspected her nails. "And what about you, Marl?" she pressed back. "Since you feel like divulging my love life, tell us of yours? How is your dear husband?"
"My husband?" Marlanda let out a hm of sarcastic laughter. "If you were to ask my husband what a clitoris is, his answer would be—" she deepened her voice and said, "Oh, you mean that thing I bash my cock against before shoving it in, what about it?"
They all laughed, Marlanda loudest of all.
"How efficient," Talent said snidely. "You poor woman."
She shrugged. "I always have the Academy. Nothing compares to a dancer, right Dru?"
"Its all about a certain muscle group, combined with flexibility," Druscillia agreed nodding, then laughed hard at the look of horror on Kiku's blue face.
"What?" Marlanda asked her.
"You're married," Kiku said.
There was no empathy to be found in Marlandas' eyes when she said, "And my husband leaves me hungry. Should I be expected to starve?"
They turned towards the door when it slid open for Drew Blood's manager Lucinda Acin. "Are you done now?" she asked briskly.
"Nearly," Kiku said, crouching to help Druscillia into her red guard boots.
"Who is playing Palpatine, Acin?" Marlanda asked.
"My brother Genwin," she replied.
"Can he be trusted?"
"He wouldn't be here if that were not the case." Acin clapped her hands together. "Ladies, please hurry up. The extras are already in costume and as you know, time is money on a set. The longer we have the extras here the less credits goes into our pockets in the end."
Druscillia scoffed. "Speaking of filthy money," she turned her head to look over her shoulder at Talent, who was zipping up her dress, "What do I pay you for? Pass me some spice."
"What kind of spice do you want?" he asked.
"I want something too!" Marlanda burst out.
"What do you have?" she asked.
"Whoa, hold on one moment, Talent." Acin grabbed Druscillia's shoulders and forced her back around. "We agreed you are to wait until after we get the shots, remember?"
"Urgh, don't be boring, Lucinda," Druscilia drawled. "Drew Blood always performs better when high."
"Pfft!" Acin blew loudly in exasperation. "On a good day while high, Drew Blood gets into fights with her backup dancers and on a bad day while high, she passes out on set in a puddle of her own sick before we finish shooting. Let's not have any of that today, alright?"
"It depends on the spice," Druscillia retorted, while rubbing under her nose. "And whether or not I've had a few drinks. I won't have—" The look on Acin's face cut her off. "Fine," she said airily. "We'll do it your way this once."
Acin thanked her and took hold of her shoulders again, this time to give them a good squeeze. "Everyone wants to be heard, Drew Blood. Become the voice of the downtrodden."
Really feeling the character now, red with rage—Druscillia became Drew Blood. Her vision blurred as she threw her head back and grinned widely.
Thrawn kneeled down in his small cabin and allowed his arms to go loose at his sides. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before exhaling fully, repeating this useful exercise again and again, until he reached theta state. Once he felt renewed and focused, he stood and walked over to his desk, turned on several Holobits and spread them around the room so he was surrounded by a city of Umbaran art.
It was most curious, the similarities between the art of the Umbarans and those of his people.
Both their art revealed a preference for isolation, despite having the ability to integrate with the sentients in the universe around them. The Umbarans, like the Chiss had technology that far surpassed human capabilities, only the Umbarans were conquered by these humans, and their technology seized and dispensed to their subjugators.
Like humans, both the Chiss and Umbarans lived with a type of caste system in place, but unlike humans and Umbarans, the Chiss made no airs about the arrangement— all were well versed on the necessity of their place in it and it was because of this transparency that most accepted their position with little to no shame.
Nevertheless, what really separated the Chiss from the Umbarans was a difference in chauvinism.
The Chiss shied away from civil or galactic conquest and instead turned their eyes outward to defend what they had gathered from exploitation. When his people spread to other planets, they found young ones that could support life, but did not yet hold high sentience to offer much challenge over territory.
The Umbarans on the other hand sought to ambush if and whenever they saw an advantage to do so. They for the most part used their cunning to advance as individuals and not to strengthen the entire hive for the greater good.
He ran his hands through the holo of a sculpture, in a futile attempt at grasping the Umbaran female, formed to be bent under the weight of her place in the caste. The Umbarans were in no position to take on the Empire and they were far too clever to try. The strife in Umbaran territory was not what it seemed.
He picked up his datapad and began flipping through files on Nightswan's trail.
"Who are you?" he asked himself of the man who was code named after a bird that only sings at night. Nevil Cygni was not his name.
Thrawn knew this man was using iridium and other mid-range value metals to buy Vulture droids. He had many theories as to why but nothing concrete yet. It was his steady supply of metals to trade with that confirmed he was in some way connected to the Mining Guild.
A sharp ring rented the air. His eyes moved down lazily to the cabin's holocom to see the Lady Druscillia's calling code. He looked away from the device. Their private holo-calls were becoming very costly and he would need every penny he earned for his future ambitions. That coupled with not having the time for frivolities— his hand hovered over the answer key.
'Perhaps she could offer a unique perspective on the Umbarans.' he thought to himself before taking the call.
The holo took form into a flickering echo of her person.
"Lady Druscillia."
"How do you do, Captain Thrawn?" Holo or not, she squirmed quite visibly under his gaze.
"I am well and in the midst of work," he said.
"That is no surprise. What are you working on?"
"I am studying art of the Umbaran people."
"Ah, the Shadow People," she said.
"Have you anything to say about them?"
Her head quirked up to the side. "I love their fashion," she said. "Gaylgly and Nivongon are two of my favourite designers. Nivongon made me a shadow cloak, covered entirely in black feathers. It-is-stunning." She drew lines jutting out her hips and added, "I love the structure of their designs. It's like wearing furniture instead of clothing; I feel like a landmark in them. I bought a couple Gaylglys pieces last season, mostly bags and shoes. Oh, also a lot of their recreational drugs are not human compatible, but the ones that are…"
She trailed off and bit her bottom lip. "Why are you studying Umbaran art?"
"The Thunderwasp is on route for an assignment in Umbaran territory," he said.
"One that requires you look at their art?"
"Indeed."
"What pieces are you studying?"
"An array of them scanning from this era to eras long past. I need a sufficient sample size to reach an accurate conclusion on their military prowess and doctrine, also their general aspects as a species."
He moved aside so that she could see the holos of his holos. "I have concluded that the majority of Umbarans are shrewd enough to not lay aggress on enemies with strength over them."
The twist of the Lady's face said she was disinterested in hearing more on the subject, but then she caught herself and rearranged her expression into one of attentiveness.
"Oh, have you? Very good," she said.
He had to commend her for trying, even awarded her points on the convincing smile. He closed his eyes momentarily to keep from rolling them.
"Last we spoke you claimed to be embarking on a project to help further your career. How goes its progress?" He asked.
"It goes well," she said. "I'm nearly finished, having been delayed for a time. I had to visit family in Phelarion. My cousin recently suffered a small but devastating injury. And when I say devastating, I mean devastating in his mind only," she chuffed and her tone became an exaggerated simper. "He is very sad he has to take time off of his very important work."
"Which cousin?" Thrawn asked nonchalantly.
"Conan. I told you about him before. There is a portrait of his wife and son hanging at the gallery."
"Painted by Gabcheek. Yes, the Admiral." He leaned forward slightly. "What sort of injury did he sustain?"
"Between us—" she cupped her mouth with one hand and whispered as loudly as she spoke normally. "He's on stress leave. I told him working under my father would eventually get to him in some way." She laughed.
"Where was he posted?"
"Somewhere out in the Sesswenna. He has been posted on some base out in the middle of nowhere for ages now. All my family who serve the military are— doing Cosmos knows what. Anyway, it will be good for Bento and Ala. They barely see him."
Thrawn regarded her thoughtfully. She was a valuable source of free and useful intelligence on top of all else. He wondered why it was that he had her trust when he had not yet proven himself trustworthy. Was she simply easy? Was this trust only afforded to him? Or was it something of a more devious nature? A plot perhaps? That latter could prove amusing— if not disastrous.
"Where are you now?" he asked.
"I will be returning to the Core soon for a small campaign with the COMPNOR Recruitment Center."
It seemed he did not have her full trust after all— she did not really answer the question.
"Fortunately, it is only for a modelling job," she continued, "so mentally I will be given a much-needed break. I feel I am being stretched thin creatively at the moment."
"Your career as a dancer and model comes most with a physical toll. Why does your mind require rest?"
Druscillia frowned, then closed and opened her mouth several times. Finally, she said, "You ask such questions, Thrawn. Anyways, I do wonder whether or not Minister Hax will use the shots if I end up looking dead eyed in all of them again. He is quite determined to continue using me as a subject, even though it is beginning to show that I am becoming exhausted by the monotony of it all."
"The trials of an artist." He touched his fingertips to his lips. "I admit when it comes to the creative arts it is the end product and not the process itself that concerns me." He pressed those same fingertips together and rubbed them. "What concerns me most is what the applicable society makes of their art and what it reveals of that society. The vessels or in this case the artists themselves are another matter entirely, but rest assured, Your Ladyship, I am interested in learning more of the process from a reliable source."
"And I am a reliable source?"
"Yes."
"And is that all I am to you? A source of information?"
"Not entirely."
She laughed softly. "What a relief."
He turned away from her holo when the door slid open for Ensign Vanto.
"Ensign," Thrawn said. "You disturb my solitude."
"Is that Vanto?" she cooed. "He is adorable!"
"Solitude?" Vanto frowned. "Isn't that— Never mind. The commander thought you might have become ill. We have been trying to reach you by intercom for the last ten minutes."
"My apologies," he said. "I was more focused than I realized."
Vanto grunted, his eyes flicking to Druscillia and then the artwork. "What is all of this?"
"Art of the Umbaran people."
"And why is she here?"
"Has the rest of the task force arrived?"
"Our Star Destroyer has arrived, the ISD Foremost. Admiral Carlou Gendling is commanding."
"Gendling's a sarlacc pit," she said from behind him. "I heard he-"
"Thank you, Lady Druscillia, we will finish our discussion another time."
He ended the call and turned back to Vanto who blinked in evident astonishment.
"That was Lady Druscillia Tarkin."
"It was."
"And you cut her off and hung up on her."
"You yourself were not very courteous, Ensign." Thrawn reminded him. "As for my own actions, they were necessary, Lady Druscillia can be verbose. Do not worry, she will understand our lack of etiquette— I would even go as far as saying she would appreciate it."
He gestured for Vanto to leave the cabin with him. Once back in the main hall he asked him to tell him everything Command still believed they knew of the situation on Umbara.
It was the last day shooting the Impalepatine holovid and Druscillia was really feeling the crunch.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Acin was saying, as the two of them made their way to the set together. "What does the song mean?"
Druscillia stopped in her tracks and pursed her lips together tightly in thought. "I can trust you five. You, Marlanda, Talent, Kiku and Lucien, but I would only trust you with this. It's a secret very few know."
"Please, the suspense is killing me."
"Have you heard of the Sith?"
Acin tipped her head. "I have heard the saying, for Sith's sake, but haven't given it much thought beyond the nice ring it has to it."
"That's a no," said Druscillia. "I thought not." She paused and looked around. They were alone, the crew were instructed to give Drew Blood a wide berth whenever possible.
"Not many know of them anymore," she continued, "And many who do just don't care— they have gone extinct like countless others after all." She lowered her voice further. "I am no expert on the matter, but from what I managed to find out on them I now know they were once enemies of the Jedi and like the Jedi, they apparently have power over the Force. According to their text, they live to spread pain and suffering in the galaxy, to shade the penetrable light."
"Okay…" Acin frowned.
"I should start from the beginning. One day, my tutor and I were in my father's office looking for... I don't remember what for, but while in there I noticed he had the most interesting thing on his desk."
"What?" Acin breathed.
"This old tome. Like seriously, an actual paperbound book! This one looked particularly old and I don't know... I could feel it just as good as I could see it. The pages were black, and the writing in blacker ink. It was nearly impossible to see the letters on the page and I am telling you, when I shone a light on that thing, it just sucked it up."
"So, there was a weird looking book—
"And datachips on top," Druscillia added. "I took them and put them in my datapad, naturally they were encrypted but it wasn't too difficult for my Bothan tutor to break through."
"Why did your tutor take such a risk?"
"Because I asked him to," she said simply.
"What were on the datachips?"
"Case files on the deaths of Sheev Palpatine's immediate family."
Acin frowned. "They died by suffocation from a gas leak on their ship, correct?"
"My father seems to not think so. He made notes of inconsistencies in the evidence… like how Sheev's little brother was found as if one who was trying to flee."
"I'm confused. What does this have to do with the Sith?"
"In the book it said to truly become one with the Dark Side—"
"Dark side?"
Druscillia pressed her black claws against Acin's lips, she couldn't help but notice her red fingers were the exact shade of Acin's lipstick, this soothed her enough to continue. "The book said to become one with the Dark Side declarations must be made and terrible sacrifices. It was pretty specific about what the sacrifices must be." She freed Acin's mouth and began ticking off fingers, "Self mutilation, enslavement, torture, familicide, genocide. There were many other heinous deeds to choose from, but I don't want to talk about them." She shivered.
"I understand," Acin said.
"You really don't. Anyways, the more offers one makes, the more power one receives from the Force."
"Isn't the Force good?"
She shrugged and looked around again. "On record, Palpatine's entire family died in a tragic accident, but it's very possible that he is one of these Sith and when he was nineteen years old, strangled his family on their ship. Now he rules the galaxy to—"
"Spread pain and suffering, to shade the penetrable light." This time Acin shivered. "Now it all makes sense. The holoplay* you wrote for this holovid and the song. Stars, is this what made you become Drew Blood in the first place?"
Druscillia shrugged. "There was no singular event, Drew Blood was always there inside me, only she had no name. Really I just sing what I feel and what I see."
"Alright," said Acin slowly. "You do know if this is all true and we're ever caught, we'll be burnt for revealing this and not only imprisoned?"
"So, then we don't get caught."
Acin exhaled long and hard. "Now I could use some spice."
"It isn't too late," she said lightly.
"Fark it." Acin took out a small metal vial and twisted the spoon out to dish a lump of Snuff on her own knuckle and than Druscillia's. "You have officially become my most high-risk client."
The two of them sniffed up the grey powder and shuddered.
The Snuff revitalized her daring, she slapped Acin on the back and said, "Come on, it'll be fun. Just imagine the look on our precious Emperor's face when he watches my holovid."
Seamus sat at his desk in his office on the NOMAD, his fingers drummed against the table to the tune of his frustration.
"How do you know it was him?" he asked the holo of Juahir Madras.
"Word travels in Coruscant of the blue skinned alien who got his commander fired after a successful operation on Umbara."
"Thrawn," he muttered darkly. The name suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth when it once tasted curiosity for this fascinating individual.
Seamus leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. "He will become more of a problem the higher he climbs the Imperial chain of command. And he will climb."
"What will you do?" Juahir asked.
"The question you should ask is what it is I need you to do."
"And what's that?"
"Reconnaissance," he said. "Thrawn will have to be tracked."
"You want a low-level officer spied on?"
"Not quite low level," Seamus corrected her. "Due to recent changes in policy, I have been forced to become a smuggler, so naturally, I would want a particularly competent tracker of smugglers put under surveillance."
"What do you hope to find?"
"His weaknesses and whereabouts. A nice place to begin when taking down a corrupt government is from deep within, but until Driller has Higherskies to the level I need him to, we can begin by eliminating the officers of their law and help stir up rebellion."
"Eliminating?"
"Sabotage," he clarified. "The Imperials have little patience for an incompetent officer, less still when they are near-human. Let them eliminate their own for us— the fools."
"Our play is to pair our security guards with high officials. A captain of the Navy has no need for a security guard, how will we get close to him?"
"Juahir, I have my talents and you have yours. Creating a network of informants is what you and Driller do best. Now I'm telling you, Captain Thrawn is a threat to funding our operation. I need to know where he is, who he is seeing and what they are doing together."
He frowned thoughtfully and added, "While you are at it, find an official who hates him— This shouldn't be too hard to do— hatred loosens lips when you pretend to empathize with it… or challenge it in any way. Obviously it is in your best interest to empathize for this task."
"Alright. We will add Thrawn to our list of targets," Juhahir said firmly.
"I am relying on you."
"And I won't fail you, Mr. Starplex."
The connection ended. Seamus chuckled lightly once her holo retracted into the table. He forgot for a moment that Julius Starplex was the alias he'd given her.
Druscillia felt a stab of irritation. She would not be denied this. "And why not?" she managed to voice calmly.
"Because it's kriffin crazy, that's why," Marlanda retorted.
"No, it isn't," she tossed her head impatiently. "One of my ancestors did this very thing once. One could even say it led to the forming of the Quintad. Thrawn will love it for that if not any thing else. He's a major history buff you know."
"What are you on about?" Marlanda made a face and folded her arms across her chest. "Is this because of what I said a little while ago? My teasing you about Thrawn not wanting to be seen with you outside of the gallery?"
"No!"
Marlanda looked doubtful and it set Druscillia's teeth on edge.
"So, he invited you over to his new apartment?" she asked. "And now you are just making a grand entrance out of it? Or are you showing up unannounced?"
"Please, Marl, just this one last thing before you leave for the Academy?"
"Trust me, I'm doing you a favor refusing. Imagine if someone had themselves delivered to you?" her face scrunched up thoughtfully. "Has anyone before?"
Druscillia waved her hand aimlessly as if to say, that is neither here nor there. "You should know this rug is one of a kind. I managed to out bid the museum of Galactic History for it."
"So then just send him the rug!" Marlanda cut across her. "I'm not going to roll you inside so that you could smuggle yourself into his home."
"If you do not help me, I will tell everything."
"You will tell who, everything?"
Of course, Marlanda knew whom, it was a game they had played many times before. But still, they allowed the scene to unfold naturally as if for the first time.
"I will tell your husband about all your proclivities. He'll be devastated and I hate him and take no issue with hurting him."
"Oh, you will?"
She nodded vehemently.
"Well, then I would have to tell old Wilhuf just who you become on your spare time. How do you think he would react when he finds out his precious daughter is wanted for treason?"
"If Drew Blood goes down, she is taking you all down with her!"
Marlanda let out a short bout of laughter. "You bloody Harpy!" she screeched. "That isn't funny, at all!"
"Good. Now, will you help me out or not?"
"You know what, Dru, I could really use a good laugh. Once this little scheme of yours blows up in your face, spare me no details."
"Deal!" Druscillia threw her arms around Marlanda's neck with an excited squeal.
…
Wrapped as tight as she could be in the rug, Druscillia was taken cradled in the arms of a delivery droid to the Kaldani Spires Residential Apartments. Her identification information on the sender's chip made it easy to get by security and with every step closer to his front door, it worsened her inner conflict.
"Delivery for Captain Thrawn," The droid said.
Her heart began to hammer even faster when she felt the silky baritone of Thrawn's voice in her chest.
'Fark!' She thought furiously. 'Marl was right, this is crazy! I should have just sent the rug and waited for a proper invitation.'
Unfortunately it was too late to turn back. He had already told the droid to come in.
"There will do," he said. "Do you require my identification cylinder?"
"Negative, you fit the description," the droid said. "I have been instructed to tell you to open the rug when you are alone and only when alone."
She could picture the look of intrigue on his face at that.
The droid put her down then left her to an uncertain and possibly terrible fate.
Thrawn must have crouched beside her, because his next words seemed to emanate right around her face.
They were in his native language. She recognized virtually none of the words, having only known some of the Cheun words for body parts, foods they ate, some notable artifacts they admired, and a few random phrases that may or may not have been accurate.
He did not know this of course, nor was she planning on telling him anytime soon. It was a small edge, but an edge nonetheless.
Her musings were cut short once he began to prod and run a hand over where the curve of her side was between the rug.
"I should warn you," he began in basic. "I am armed."
"It's me!" she cried out; her voice came out muffled behind the material.
Thrawn unrolled her, she blinked against the light and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. His expression gave nothing away, they just stared at each other— her on the floor, feeling very much like a grub after its stone is over turned and him towering over her like an oversized iceberg, with its arms stiff at its sides.
"Lady Druscillia, you brought me a gift."
She let out as soft of a sigh of relief as was possible. "Yes," she said, managing to stand up gracefully. "Just a little house warming present. It is a rug, made from the fiber of Bardottan Pelt Serpents*, they are extinct now by the way and in many places on Bardotta, their fiber's banned for having connections with demon worshipping. This rug once belonged to Myaula, a high priestess of the Frangawl Cult, in 6264 BBY. Embroidered into it is the head of Malmourral, once worshipped as the Bardottan demon of war. It is one of a kind."
His face finally gave way to some emotion, he raised both of his blue-black eyebrows, obviously impressed. "Truly?" he asked.
Druscillia nodded and then looked around. The apartment was furnished with the basics and it still held that certain aridness one came to expect in a home someone recently moved into. "I must say, even without having seen your place I chose well. This will really warm up the room." She waved her hands over the bare floor in the middle of the living room.
"I do not want people stepping on it," he said, while walking around the rug and taking it in.
"It is a rug. It is meant to be stepped on."
"If you are correct about its origins, which I have little reason to believe you are not, you would know it is more than just a simple rug— it is a priceless piece of history."
"Do you plan on having a lot of traffic run through your living room?" she asked tartly.
"I do not plan on it, but I cannot say for certain whether or not that will be the case." He knelt down and begun rolling it up. "I will display it in a way to honor its value. Thank you, Your Ladyship, it is a fine piece."
She bit back a smile and stepped around him. "You are very welcome, Thrawn. And please stop calling me that, I keep telling you I prefer to be called Dru." She could feel his gaze on her back as she made her way around his living room— everything was neat and orderly and of high quality, except… She stopped to look down at some boxes filled with cruddy old droid parts.
"Would you like something to drink?" he said from somewhere behind her.
She spun around and gasped, not realizing just how close he was standing—his voice was that soft.
Recovering quickly, she asked, "What do you have?"
"Water or tea at the moment."
"You should remedy that, but alright, tea will do."
He nodded once. "Please, take a seat." Then he actually gestured at one of his armchairs and waited for her to sit down on it. He did not have to warn her to not touch anything; it was implied by his demeanor.
"I will return shortly with your beverage."
"You live in the Kaldani Spires, where is your servant droid?"
"I dismantled it," he said.
'Of course you did,' she thought, folding her arms and slouching deeper into the arms of the chair.
They sat across from each other, Thrawn on the sofa and Druscillia lounging on his recently appointed favorite chair, as if it were hers by right.
"I do say," she said, staring out the viewport. "You have a beautiful view here. Even better than many in my Penthouse."
"Is that a fact?"
"People come from all over the Galaxy to see the Monument Plaza and you get to see it every time you sit here in this very spot."
"It is quite pleasing to the eye," he agreed.
They fell into silence, in which she looked everywhere but at him— no doubt questioning her recent choices— he did not mind, he felt quite content to just watch the birdlike movements of her head.
"So, tell me about your junk collection, Thrawn." She gestured toward the half-opened parcels he had placed in neat rows on the floor.
'Junk?' he thought reproachfully.
"I had these potentially valuable antiques delivered here a couple days ago," he said. "I have not yet had the chance to sort through them. I was about to get to that when you came."
She tittered, while he stood and took from a box the head of a droid, then held it up for her to see.
"My apologies," she said smirking. "Allow me to help you then." She stood up and placed her empty cup on the table beside her.
"They are in poor condition," he replied. "Covered in lubricating fluids and other contaminants. You might ruin your lovely attire."
Druscillia looked down thoughtfully at the grey silk chiffon dress she wore. "I can always take it off," she drawled.
Thrawn blinked, biting down on the teensiest amount of his inner lip.
"Would you not like that?" she asked with a frown. "If I took off my dress and helped you sort out your potentially valuable antiques? You just give the order and I will gladly do it."
Her eyes glistened with unfettered amusement and he could practically taste her hunger in the air— alive and fierce, pulling at something primal inside of him that had no right to see the day.
"You would like me to," she said teasingly. "But you are not quite ready for that just yet." she pouted then let out a long drawn out sigh. "That's alright, it's getting late. I should go."
It was the first time in his company that she looked truly victorious. She took a few deliberate steps towards the door, then stopped to look at him from over her shoulder. She wore a smug smirk on her face that suited her better than any.
He frowned, actually unsure of how it was revealed. Was it the slight movement of his mouth? That was an unavoidable tic, far too subtle for one like her to notice. Or was it?
In any case, it had nothing to do with not being ready to entertain a naked female in his abode and everything to do with knowing said naked female would not be wholly satisfied with just helping him sort out his things. She would want more— a swapping of their fluids and a combined litany of their grunts to be precise— the thought of such an arrangement was… unpleasant.
Thrawn moved to follow her towards the door, his eyes on the thin high heels of her shoes, then up her muscular calves, dragging his gaze all the way up the back of her head and lingering on the generous serving of dark brown hair. He frowned in new consideration.
"Thank you for the tea," she said, leaning against the door.
"And you for the Bardottan rug."
A moment passed between them, in which she oozed with not so subtle expectation.
"Druscillia, I mean you no offense, but I would ask that you please refrain from showing up here unannounced in the future."
"And if I am unable to help myself?"
"Then be sure to smuggle yourself in with valuable artifacts. It will help soften my resolve."
Her mouth dropped open into a perfect circle. "So, you do have a sense of humor buried in there."
"It is like I told you, it all comes down to one's perspective."
"Right." She grinned. "And here I thought the real gift to you was my wonderful company and allowing you another opportunity to hear the sound of your own voice. You do seem to like the sound of your own voice."
"You are projecting your desires onto me."
"Thrawn, entire holodramas can be made from out of your lectures."
He leaned around her and palmed the door's sensor to open it. "Do enjoy the rest of your evening," he said politely. Then before anything could be done to stop it, Druscillia leaned over, pressed her lips against his cheek, then left him to contemplate over the inner workings of his body, precisely where he would have his new rug appraised and the exact state of her mental faculties.
True to the style of Legends I felt I should make needless Star Wars versions of things.
Adhese: "Adheser" is glue/ to adhese is to glue.
Pigmentation gun: I wanted a more sci-fi version of an airbrush gun, something futuristic that uses liquified pigment crystals that are crazy expensive and great for the skin. Please don't ask me how it works, just use your imagination ;)
Bardottan Pelt Serpents: Indigenous to the northern hemisphere of Bardotta— these pythons are non venomous and have a coat of durable fibre similar to that of an alpaca.
Wouldn't a furry snake be the cutest thing? I don't think scales can grow hair, but they do in this.
Fark: Fuck. I refuse to use the word farkle because it sounds farking stupid and farked up.
Sith Bible: I made mention of something similar to a "Sith Bible." Now I am unsure if the Sith have a bible, but I took this concept of a light absorbing text from this high fantasy series I have been working on for a little over a decade and figured hey, if the Dark Side had a sacred text it like the, Demi-Hole Cookbook in my story should also devour light.
Holoplay: screenplay.
Lootar: Last chapter I mentioned Drew Blood having a Lootar solo in her song— It's basically just a guitar (Electric in the case of the Kill a Stormtrooper song)
Author's Note
I decided to make a small change to Marlanda's character. She is no longer a Yularen and she is no longer married to Romwell Krass Junior, instead she's now the younger sister of Romwell Krass Junior and the wife of Harus Ison's son, Taurus. I have no idea why I made her related to the colonel in the first place— with Thrawn being rather close to Wulf, it was too… perfect. I do like now how the two of them have similar families and with them both being rebellious dancers that attended the same Academy; becoming close friends would make sense.
Still reading? GO OUTSIDE! Lest your eyes go sour.
I will hopefully get around to updating the Blue Wedding soon. The restructuring has made it so that story will be told entirely from Thrawn's POV with possibly 2 Eli POV chapters (I'm really considering just telling the entire story from Thrawn's POV) I do suggest for chapters 3-7 of the Blue Wedding you scroll down to the Author's notes first, where when necessary I'll let you know what major changes went into the chapter, this way you don't have to waste your precious time re-reading old material if it isn't necessary.
This chapter wasn't beta edited, so if you see a glaring flaw call me out on it.
As always, thanks for reading.
