Keep sippin' I'm thinking I hear grim reaper calling me damn

[art_of_war]

WHO: Thrawn and Persephone
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Jan 11 ( After this)
WHAT: Thrawn has questions (because when doesn't Thrawn have questions) and he wants to understand behavior better. The enemmy of my enemy is my friend, right?
WARNINGS: Star Wars warning and WicDiv spoilers.


This was ridiculous.

Thrawn could hardly believe he was even considering this in the first place. But, here he was. He had waited until the gallery closed for the evening but had not yet returned to 007 so there would be fewer questions to contend with - though it wasn't as if he ever gave answers to most questions asked of him. It still meant he was dressed formally with black gloves on to match. He had deviated from his own pattern and been stared at by natives and imPorts alike through the train ride.

Persephone had warned that there be no more than three? Well, there was only the one looking dubiously at the open door marked "staff only". The only reason he was still here at all was being alone. Sighing quietly to himself, Thrawn went through said door, close it behind him for a count of ten. Then opened it again.

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[ When he re-opens the door, he is inside what a geologist would call a cathedral: a huge, natural chamber, ceiling many stories above his head. But maybe not just a geologist would call it that. The space has been transformed, images carved in the stone, and the walls and stalactites are overgrown with bright green vines and gently glowing pink flowers. If he's the sort to notice that sort of thing, the whole space hums gently with power.

And at one far end, on stage, behind an alter, sits Persephone on a throne of flowers and animal bone. She's reclining casually, and scrolling through her phone, headphones in.

Behind him, the door clicks quietly closed before disappearing into the stone wall, and Persephone waves him towards her. ]

[art_of_war]

[ Beyond a slow, almost casual perusal of what had been train tracks only a moment ago, Thrawn has no apparent reaction to the grandeur and natural beauty of his surroundings.

Hands clasped behind him, he approaches but does stop and wait patiently a little distance from her throne. There was no reason to be rude, after all. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ She finishes her clearly-critical-business on her phone before finally looking up at him. ]

Mr. Thrwan. Thanks for coming.

[art_of_war]

There is no need for honorifics. Simply 'Thrawn' will do.

[ Please note the correction. And let's not make a fuss about titles or ranks. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ She tips her head in acknowledgement, and then regards him cooly. Blue skin, red eyes. Probably not from around here? Great pallet though, and contouring that looks applied by the devil herself. You could slice deli meat with those cheek bones. He hadn't impressed her over text, but lucky him that he's so pretty. ]


Thrawn it is. I'm Persephone, assorted edgy titles, but you knew that. What is it you're hoping to know?

[art_of_war]

A pattern.

[ Thrawn's eyes glanced around the chamber. ]

Many of the questions I had have been answered, in one way or another, by the…unorthodox way you've held court.

[ They resettled on Persephone again. ]

So I must revert to simplicity. Who or what does he fear? And failing that, who or what does he hate?

[pummelgranite]

[ Her lips curl slightly at his "unorthodox" comment. Good. She'd hoped that the experience would be illustrative, one way or another. She doesn't like handing people answers. He'll draw his own conclusions; no need to waste her breath when a little miracle is so much more efficient. ]

Hates easy. He hates recreationally. Women, kids, anyone with genuine emotions or human decency. He hates himself, but not as much as he'd like people to think. People more successful than him, people less successful than him. Boredom.

He doesn't fear death, though he's pretty pissed about it. He fears pain way less than I'd like, too.

[ She tries not to, but none the less her melodic voice gets steadily tighter as she talks. Thrawn was right in picking out a mutual enmity. ]

If you're asking how to control him, your guess is as good as mine. Decapitations the popular choice for naughty gods back home.

[art_of_war]

[ While he has not moved at all, he has been observing Persephone's responses. It is interesting what she pays attention to. Thrawn also gets the sense she is rather naive in many respects.

Had he more time, or perhaps more patience, he might have taken that further into account.]

You seem to be mistaking what I mean for simple dislike.

[ There was an especially harsh glitter in his red eyes. ]

I mean true hatred. The sort of hatred that can endure quietly. Sometimes for years.

[ Until it can find a way to consume its host. While he did not expect her to know such a thing, he was looking for that first thread. ]

And I expect if you knew of a way to control him, you would have used it by now.