Vurawn's earliest memory formed when he was nearly three years old. It was morning, a Rentor autumn. His childhood home was little more than a wooden cabin tucked away in the woods. They were a few minute's walk from the shore and an hour's walk from the nearest town.
The trees were covered in dying blackened leaves. Sea mist had frozen into sheets of snow and ice overnight. Vurawn begged to play outside with his five-year-old sister before the suns melted it away.
Their mother groaned, but acquiesced. She "watched" her children play outside while shaving the skin off tubers on the porch. When the peeling was done, everyone had to come inside and eat. Those were the rules.
"C'mon, Raw!" Vurika called to Vurawn before running behind a tree. Vurawn scrambled after her, struggling to keep pace on his shorter legs. But when he reached the tree from which she'd left his sight, no one was there.
"Vurika?" He looked around, confused where she could have gone. He looked back at the homestead, then peered deeper into the forest. In summer, the tree branches blocked nearly all the sunlight. Now that fall had arrived, the ground was bathed in light. Vurika should have been easy to spot, yet she was nowhere to be found.
An idea struck him: she'd climbed the tree! Vurawn reached up for the nearest tree branch…
…Right as a lob of fresh wet snow hurled into his chest.
"Hey!" Vurawn bent down and made his own snowball. He searched the scene for a spot of blue skin. For body heat of any kind. But he couldn't see her. She wasn't anywhere near the trajectory of the projectile that had hit him.
It wasn't Mother. Mother never played games with her children. Father was gone on his boat again. He was out catching fish for them to store in the ground for wintertime. So by Vurawn's toddler logic, it had to be Vurika. She was throwing snow at him.
But from where?
As Vurawn twirled around, a second snowball hit between his shoulder blades, nearly knocking him over. Vurika's laugh echoed through the air. Vurawn ran towards her voice, throwing his snowball in a wide arc. It fell apart on a low hanging tree branch, snow scattering as it slid back to the ground.
What Vurawn saw next was something his parents would deny ever happened for the next decade. The snow he'd just thrown formed into a ball on its own accord, as if the wind itself were his opponent in the game. The ball floated in the air until it was a head taller than Vurawn, then launched itself into his face.
He screamed. Vurawn knew how much Mother hated it when he screamed, but he couldn't help it. The ice of the snow froze the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He didn't see Vurika run up to him, but he heard her approach him from the opposite direction of the snowball.
"Raw, stop it. Stop it! I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it anymore." He felt her arms close around his chest. He struggled to escape.
Vurika was doing it? She was the one making snowballs attack him from the air? But how? Why did Vurawn have to make them with his hands and she didn't?
"That's it! No more playtime." Mother marched over from her place on the porch, half-carved tubers stuffed into the pocket of her robe. "Vurika, stop bullying your brother."
As Vurika stepped away from him, Vurawn used his newly free arms to wipe the snow off of his face. He looked up to see their mother towering over both of them.
Vurawn jabbed a finger in his sister's direction. "Vurika makes snow fly without touching it!"
"I did not!" she protested. "We were playing! Raw's mad I got him in the face. He's a sore loser!"
Without warning, Mother smacked Vurika across the face. It was her turn to scream. "Kivu'rik'ardok! How many times do I have to tell you? You are never to do such unnatural things ever again. Especially not outside the house! What if someone saw you, hm?"
"Then I'd be able to leave you for good!" Vurika shot back, cradling her swollen cheek with one hand. "I'd get a new mother from the 'scendancy!"
Vurawn didn't understand a word they were saying. Not back then. "Would I get a new mother, too?"
Instead of answering with words right away, Mother thwacked Vurawn on the top of the head. "Don't be stupid, Kivu'raw'nuru. I made you so you would join your father at the docks one day."
She hadn't hit him as hard as Vurika, but Mother did drag them both inside by the scruff of their coats. They ate unseasoned boiled tubers for breakfast with no milk as punishment for "rowdiness and bad mouthing."
Vurawn never saw his sister do anything strange again. Next week, after a round of tests at Vurika's school, she disappeared. He never saw her do anything again.
Mother told him she died, but the town never held a funeral for her. Father only cried for his daughter when Vurawn asked. And he cried for every death in the town, no matter how old the passing Chiss had been. Vurawn didn't need to be grown up to know something was wrong.
Ever since that day, Vurawn never saw another snowball make itself. He wouldn't know what force made her snowballs float until he was nearly an adult. By then, the magic of his childhood had long since shattered.
A/N's: Hello all! Long time no post. I've been staying busy with work and having some mental health struggles. Nothing too serious, just enough that I haven't had as much time or energy for fic as I would have liked. But since I'm the organizer of the Tumblr community event this fic is from, I knew I had to show out. It's helping me get back into writing too!
Hope y'all enjoyed this short piece with Thrawn and his sister. Vurika/Borika was Thrawn's first introduction to the Force (or the Third SIght, as the Chiss call it). He got an early start and has been encountering magical people for the rest of his life. I'm trying to pull entries from different phases of Thrawn's life. Without saying too much, I am writing in chronological order for this event. I don't think it's any surprise who's featured in the next chapter.
Be sure to check out the other Ascendancy Week works! Especially if they decide to post in the Ao3 collection. In the meantime, thank you for stopping by to read. I will be back tomorrow.