Brotherly Art
alt. title: Love Is Stored In the Infodump
This is the first of a three part series on Thrawn's relationship to art. He's such a nerd, I love him so much.
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People who meet Thrawn often think he’s quiet. People who know him, at least for any length of time, often wish he was.
Thrass understands the complaint, but he doesn’t share it. When his brother gets onto certain topics, the stiff poise and awkward reserve melt away; his eyes shine with more than bioluminescence, and he lays out his opinions with the enthusiasm of a child and the earnestness of a professor. True, no one else can get a word in edgewise. But Thrass has spent enough time in university to appreciate the free dispersal of knowledge by someone passionate about the topic. And Thrawn rarely looks so alive, let alone happy. Thrass wants to see him happy.
“-but in 68 BCA, you start to see a shift in the assembly technique, as though the makers’ perspective on the physical possibilities of their craft has begun to shift. The history books say they didn’t have any contact with outsiders until at least 50 BCA, but I think we can see from the pottery alone that the date of first contact can be pushed back by almost a decade. It shows up in other artifacts, but it’s most clear here that their whole conception of their place in the universe underwent a seismic shift-” Thrawn looks up from the zoomed-in picture of a potshard on his questis and glances at Thrass. “This isn’t boring, is it?”
Someday, Thrass reflects, he’d like to meet whoever told Thrawn his interests were boring. There’ll be an assault charge, of course, but he’s fairly certain he can talk his way out of the worst of it. “Not at all. I like hearing what you think.” His own questis pings. “Delivery’s almost here.”
“Ok. I have to use the fresher anyway.” A look of urgency crosses Thrawn’s face and he practically vaults the couch on his way. Thrass shakes his head. Trust Thrawn to get so wrapped up in a topic he forgets to pee. Thrass gets up to clear the table for their meal and brings Thrawn’s questis with him. When he sets it down, the jolt causes the screen to switch back on. He blinks. Instead of the potshard, the screen is a solid, alarming blue.
“Thrawn, I think something is wrong with your questis.”
Thrawn emerges from the fresher, still drying his hands. Thrass hands him the device.
“It’s gone all blue. If I broke it, I’ll replace it-”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Thrawn breathes a visible sigh of relief. “That’s just the lock screen.”
“You set your lock screen to The Blue Screen of Death?” In fairness, it’s not the strangest thing his brother’s ever done. Thrawn shakes his head.
“It’s a painting by Cli’ure’akoio, one of her Color Studies. I’ve got downloads of all her older work, this one’s my favorite. Most people just see skin tone when they look at it, but a blue this saturated and even is really difficult to produce outside electronic media. And look how she applied it, it’s hard to tell here but there are no visible brushstrokes. That’s what makes this picture unique: she’s taken something absurdly simple and executed it so perfectly it’s like she’s daring people to say they could do the same thing, openly flexing on her critics-”
And just like that, he’s off on an extended explanation of the experimental paintings of Cli’ure’akoio.
Later, as Thrawn scrolls through his questis looking for a particular painting, Thrass peers over his shoulder. Most people’s image files are full of family members, tookas, or scantily clad individuals they deny any knowledge of; Thrawn’s is full of art downloads.
“Do you have any pictures you took yourself?”
“Oh, certainly.” He pauses on a blurry picture of a stack of duracrete slabs. “I took this at the sculpture festival last year. I usually stick to downloads, though. I don’t take very good pictures.”
Thrass shakes his head. “Have you ever thought about collecting any pieces yourself?”
Thrawn doesn’t look up from scrolling. “I don’t have the room; I live on a light cruiser. Besides, most of these cost more money than I’ll ever see.” There’s a wistfulness in his voice that only someone who knows him well would pick up on. An idea takes root in Thrass’s mind; he files it away for later.
Thrawn’s shore leave is over entirely too soon, in Thrass’s opinion. He hurries to the shuttle station to see him off, careful not to drop the package under his arm.
He spots his brother on the edge of a knot of CEDF personnel, waiting for the shuttle to blackdock. Thrawn stands outside the chattering conversations of his peers, hands behind his back, waiting his turn to contribute to the discussion. He turns when he sees Thrass approaching.
“I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” he says by way of greeting. Thrass envelops him in a hug.
“Had an appointment I had to keep. Besides, I have a going away present I have to give you.”
He takes the package from under his arm and presents it to Thrawn. By now the others have taken note and gathering around to watch.
“Open it.”
Thrawn strips the wrapping away and stares at the transparesteel case. Then he registers its contents and his mouth falls open. “You didn’t-”
“I told her what you said about her Color Studies. She says she’d be honored to have this piece in the hands of someone who can appreciate it.”
One of Thrawn’s peers looks over his shoulder at the painting. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s one of Cli’ure’akoio’s latest series, Studies In Color and Texture.” Thrawn looks like he’s tearing up. “Each tile is done in a different pigment and brush stroke.” He holds the painting in its case as though receiving a holy covenant. “This is for me?”
Thrass nods. “I had it mounted in a protective case. It’ll be as safe as anything on the ship- probably safer.”
Thrawn meets his eyes, a significant effort for him, Thrass knows. “I’ll treasure it forever.”
“It’s a good start to your collection.” A tone clangs over the loudspeakers, announcing the arrival of the shuttle. “There’s no time now. But when you get home, you’ll have to explain the series to me.”
Thrawn won’t be able to wait until his next shore leave, Thrass reflects as he waves goodbye. His next letter is likely to be several densely packed pages, expounding on the technical aspects and deeper meaning of the work of Cli’ure’akoio, fit more for a graduate level art history paper than a casual conversation.
Thrass can’t wait to read it.
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The Rules:
Every twenty-four hours there will be another round. After every round, the ship in last place will be eliminated.
If there are multiple ships tying for last place, there will be a special elimination round. In these rounds, every ship in last place will be eliminated, even if all the ships have tied equally.
When there are only two ships remaining, they will face off against one another in a week-long poll to determine the victor.
If the ship that you consider the best isn't listed here, hit the 'the best polarizing ship is ___' option and reply to this post with the overlooked ship. The ship with the highest 'write-in' votes will be added to the next round. Unless the 'the best polarizing ship is ___' option is the least voted for, in which case it will be eliminated. Welcome to the party, VaderLuke/AniLuke!
Addendum to Rule 4: Only polarizing ships are allowed. Yes, I'm sure your OTP is awesome, but if there's no proof of it being polarizing then it unfortunately cannot be added to the poll.
This is all for fun. Don't take it too seriously ;)
Even though they were just added, Vaderluke/Aniluke have to be removed again. Such a shame, I can’t possibly think why they didn’t last more than one round.
…
Oh yeah, they’re father and son. A sad day for Dead Dove: Do Not Eat readers and writers.
Time for Round Four!
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