for_everyone | Mirrorverse AU

Mirrorverse AU

In the past week or so, a strange feeling had been curling up inside Hera. Mitth'raw'nuruodo had been gone for nearly three weeks, leaving her alone with the crew of his ship for the first time. She had been terrified at first, even though she hadn't shown it – some part of Hera couldn't stop believing that without Thrawn's protection, the others would suddenly decide she wasn't worth the efforts he had organized for her. But when nothing like this happened, when there was still bitter soup for her in the galley, and pilot training and math and history lessons, Hera's nerves had relaxed, and she slept easier in her bunk again.

But then those strange feelings began to surface. Hera found herself stopping outside the door to Thrawn's office, watching it longingly, imagining herself opening it and finding him inside. She pulled out the bits of cardboard and paper she used to practice chess, but instead of setting up a game, she just looked at each scrawled piece, thinking of how the pieces of Thrawn's polished wood set felt in her hands. She didn't know what to call this, didn't know what to think of the sick feeling growing in her stomach, until T'lul passed by as she was standing outside Thrawn's door again, and said, offhand, "Oh, you miss him."

Apparently these feelings weren't so strange after all. Or they weren't supposed to be. But Hera couldn't remember 'missing' anyone before. It did give her some comfort to put a name to these feelings, to know they were common, but at the same time it also made the twist in her stomach worse, as it was another reason altogether to want him back here, something else she'd want to tell him, so that he could explain it to her. He hadn't told her where he was going, only that it likely wouldn't be safe for him to communicate until he returned. In the last few days, a new fear had slipped in, that he wouldn't return, that he could be captured or his shuttle destroyed. Inside her, the thought felt like a rope being cut, and then falling.

And then, finally, Ishno shakes her awake in her bunk, whispering that he has returned. Her feelings must have been obvious to everyone, but Hera doesn't think about that. She lets herself rush through cleaning and dressing, but makes herself walk once she leaves her bunk, and makes her way up to Thrawn's office.

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"Come in," Thrawn's deep voice says, almost as soon as Hera knocks.

"The tea will be ready in a moment."

He's not sitting behind his desk at the moment, but standing by one of his shelving units, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

The chessboard is out, but not set up, and his red eyes gleam as brightly as ever, though the rest of his face looks a little tired.

"You've been well while I've been gone, I hope?"

Hera's eyes flicker to the chessboard, but she walks straight up to his desk, taking her seat in front of it.

"I um -"

But no, somehow it felt too soon to say that. She folds her hands in her lap, her fingers tight against one another. "I've been - well," she says, using his words exactly. "I went to my lessons. Na'Mira started to teach me Mok'Bara."

Thrawn sees where her glance goes, and perhaps later there will be time for such things.

For the moment, there is tea to pour, and a plate of crisp bread to lay out, and a conversation to have.

Which is why, once the tea and snacks are assembled, Thrawn sets them on his desk and takes his seat.

"How are you liking the Mok'Bara style? I can presume, I think, that you have been taking your training seriously."

Edited 2020-10-04 16:31 (UTC)

Hera stops herself from blurting out her answer, keeping her words to something like calm agreement.

"Yes, sir. Na'Mira says Mok'Bara should help clear my mind."

There's a beat, and then, "I think it does."

Hera makes no move to the food or tea as she speaks. She won't do so until Thrawn does.

"I'm glad," Thrawn says simply, because he is.

"A quiet mind is a very valuable resource."

On and off mission, as it happens.

He reaches out to the plate of bread, breaking one of the longer pieces in half, and taking the larger section. He may also nudge the plate slightly in Hera's direction.

Then, of course, he takes a bite of said bread, followed by a sip of tea.

"And not only a resource, but a potential source of contentment, when such things are often in short supply."

Once Thrawn has broken the bread, Hera doesn't hesitate to reach to the plate herself.

"I like it," she answers. "It makes me feel -"

She goes quiet, taking her time to find the right word in Sy Bisti. "- cold."

"But not frozen," Thrawn says, as if to confirm.

"Cold is a useful emotion from which to react. It does not lend itself to haste."

Which may be a disadvantage at other times, but still.

"But we cannot be cold all the time. That, too, is an important fact to remember."

"Not frozen."

She takes a sip of tea, perhaps to give her time to think more on her answer. "Still. It's - restful."

Maybe 'peaceful,' but the word doesn't sit right with her.

Quickly, she agrees. "I don't want to be like that all the time."

"Good. It's balance that is the key -- something Terrans in their Empire have long forgotten, if they ever understood it at all."

Sometimes he doubts. So it goes.

"Speaking of balance, I thought you might be curious to know what has kept me away for so long, this time."

Hera feels secretly glad that she'd taken a piece of bread while he was speaking, as chewing through it stops her from answering too eagerly.

"Yes, sir."

"As you may know, I am considered a collector of various Terran and non-Terran antiquities."

This is an understatement.

"What this means in practice is that very often people will bring interesting . . . finds, let us call them, to my attention. Or they will respond favorably to my inquiries about specific items of interest to myself."

"I know," Hera murmurs, not looking to one of the many examples of such antiquities around Thrwan's office.

Then she waits another moment, and asks, "Were you looking for something?"

Edited 2020-10-12 04:23 (UTC)

"A few things," Thrawn allows, giving Hera a small, approving smile.

"First, I was seeking to find information about your family. Syndulla is not a lesser-known name on Ryloth, and I thought perhaps you might like to know where you come from."

Hera feels her limbs freeze up. Somehow, she wasn't at all expecting this. She didn't know anything about her name, and somehow never thought Thrawn would go out of his way to find something like that for her.

Her throat has closed up, but Hera makes herself nod.

Edited 2020-10-13 01:03 (UTC)

Thrawn nudges her cup of tea toward her, to give each of them a moment to gather themselves.

"Your father was Cham Syndulla, a freedom fighter for Ryloth. He led one of the movements to locally overthrow the Terran Empire. Your mother, Tislera, was also a leader in this movement. It's the main reason that the Terran Empire took possession of you. To demoralize them, and their movement, and to demontrate their authority on your person."

A pause.

"I am sorry for that."

Hera dutifully picks up the cup, and brings it to her lips. But she can barely get any of it down her throat. She moves very stiffly, to be sure she won't shake.

She lowers the cup down from her mouth, though keeps it clutched between her hands, and makes herself speak, her voice very low.

"They're dead then?"

"Disappeared," Thrawn says quietly. "Which unfortunately means yes."

He is sorry.

"I collected a few stories for you, if you should like to hear them. You can load them on your datapad, for privacy."

He takes a sip of tea, giving them both another moment.

"It seemed important to try to deliver something more substantial, however. Hence why I was away for so long."

Hera stays quiet at first, this time because she's not sure how to say what she's thinking.

At last, she asks, "What else is there?"

"Something you can hold in your hand. A remnant, an . . . inheritance, if you will. Possibly a legacy."

He moves to the shelf behind his desk, unlocking the glass front and lifting down an elaborate -- and aged -- wooden sculpture, delicately carved and brightly painted.

"One you can learn to read, if you choose. This, as far as I could ascertain, is the Syndulla kalikori."

Thrawn sets it on the desk in front of Hera, careful to keep it away from crumbs and tea.

Hera's eyes flicker between him and the object. Her hands stay tightly folded in her lap.

"Kalikori," she repeats, quietly. And then, from rote memorization of her lessons -

"Twi'lek heirloom passed down through family generations."

"Clinically, yes," Thrawn allows. And, after a long moment of silence, to let her get her bearings --

"Tell me, Hera. How are you feeling right now?"

Her first instinct, still, is to lie. Keeping emotion neatly tucked away was still hard-ingrained in her, even if she knew now that a slip up would no longer come with retaliation.

But Thrawn is asking something of her. And while some on his crew might think there was never any point in lying to him, that he could read their minds as easily as a Betazoid would, Hera knew that wasn't true.

There's a shorter stretch of silence, and then she answers. "Like I can't breathe."

"All right," Thrawn says, in simple acknowledgment.

"Will sitting in silence for a time help? Or perhaps chess."

There are many options.

"Unless you would prefer to see this through to the end, and have the whole of it to digest on your own time."

Hera looks away from the kalikori, back to him. Her eyes don't flicker now.

"I want to keep going."

"All right."

He takes another sip of tea, to center himself.

Then --

"It was a challenge to find it. The Terrans swept your family compound at the time and much of it was scattered. But I have a few good informants, and they were able to give me likely locations for a few pieces. This seemed . . . potentially the most signficant, in terms of family history. I thought you might want it."

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