And of course. I'm not...uh, properly trained or anything. This is something I learned in the gazebo. So I might have some gaps in my knowledge, terms and things like that.
On the contrary. Your work speaks volumes of who you are, where you come from, your philosophy and your strategy.
For example: you are uncomfortable in society as a whole, and prefer solitude. You would like to hide in nature if you could. Your brushstrokes are not only bold, they are stacked pigment, like the trees you want to disappear into.
Well, now I'm really interested. What sort of questions do you have for me, if you've managed to figure out that much already? Usually, I'm the one telling people 'way too much' about themselves.
Sure. Would you like to come to my place and take a look? I do most of my painting there. There's a couple of pieces I'd like to hold onto, but you're welcome to any of the others.
[He signs off with that severe-sounding promise. After he's had time to answer his other correspondences, Thrawn sets out to pay a call to one Will Graham.
If he had any kind of societal tact or cared about it in any way, he may have realized it might not be best to show up in the garb of a high-ranking naval officer but Thrawn has always felt most comfortable in the most uncomfortable of clothing and wears it like armor whenever he has to come into contact with the unknown. He doesn't do it to impress or intimidate his host, which also has led to some misunderstandings in the past: He does it because showing up in a poncho tends to get worse looks]
[ Will's used to people at the FBI Academy wearing suits for armor- a naval uniform doesn't seem to phase him at all, as he opens the door. Neither does the rest of Thrawn's appearance. He smiles, interest sparking in his eyes. ]
Thrawn? I'm Will Graham. Pleased to meet you. Please, come in.
[ The cabin is large, too large to be an inmate's cabin. It's a two-floor studio apartment, modernly (or modernly for 2021)-styled place, with expensive materials and extremely comfortable furnishings. The main bedroom is probably in the loft upstairs, but there is a large bed taking up the open space next to the kitchen. The bed appears to have leather restraints laying on top, secured to the bedposts.
The kitchen counter is what one sees when entering, with the bed to the right and the living room to the left. A small hallway leads back behind, mostly notable for the corner that holds bowls for feeding animals. There's a tank with two vibrant red-and-black snakes facing the sunken living room. Outside the many windows are the sights of New York City from about four floors up and a sunny Earth day.
This isn't Will's style at all, with very little nature around. However, it is all open, befitting a person who wants to see any threats coming. And there are a few touches here an there that suggest Will- a whittled and rough wood statue of a wolf, soft comfortable plaid shirts laid atop a chair, hiking boots near the door. ]
[The stiff, formal introductions over, Thrawn enters the home of what's fast becoming one of his favorite artists.
The restraints are immediately clocked, though Thrawn's initial hesitation is calmed by the secondary realization that Will wouldn't be stupid enough to leave this indiscretion lying about. Whatever activities he and this other person - for there is another person - are up to, it's entirely consensual from what Thrawn can surmise. Which actually comes as a relief; he hadn't wanted his first interaction with Will to delve into so awkward and personal a topic, even if open concept living quarters were the norm here.
He next turns to every living creature who isn't Will in the room, gazing at the snakes and, strangely, the bowls. There's residue heat from dogs, he thinks, his infrared gaze lingering once before returning to Will himself.
This isn't his quarters, but he's made himself a home here, buried in the embrace of another.
He's been silent, and only now checks in that Will asked him a question. He answers, as he always does, with the care that such a question prompts]
As a ship, a frustrating series of locked doors and incomprehensible design. As a prison, far more akin to a luxury cruise vessel than anything previously encountered.
As a collection of people, I find it exhilarating.
[ Will notices Thrawn's attention to the surroundings- of course he does, it's the first thing Will does when in a new place. So he waits, and he'll be happy to repeat the question if needed-- but no, his new acquaintance has it.
The assessment has him smiling, amused. ]
I would say that's extremely accurate. Although from my perspective, I would have to sometimes replace 'exhilarating' with 'nauseating'. Here, come on through the living room, our painting area's in the back.
[ That has the added benefit of showing Thrawn more of their place. The living room, not entirely viewable from the entrance, is elegantly adorned, with brick walls, bookcases, and a large, comfortable couch. More notable are the display cases of weapons on either side of the barely-used fireplace. There's a long notch or hatch in the ceiling above it.
The incongruity continues here, with comfortable throw blankets on the couch, some ratty-looking dog toys and beds, and- yep, there are the two dogs, curled up on the couch next to each other. Winston raises his head and thumps his tail against the couch a little. Will seems to automatically scratch his head and tell him quietly that he's a 'good boy'. ]
These are my dogs, Winston and Buster. I...you probably don't have dogs wherever you're from. But I'm sure you've seen them around. The Barge has a lot of them now.
[His eyes silently take in everything, already studying the two paintings with care as he passes them. The same painter did both, with a striking use of black pigments and haunted expressions. Thrawn eyes Will and then bends down to pet both dogs.]
I have. Solace and Elvis.
[Thrawn stands to move to the middle of the room, for a better view of the whole of it. The weapons warrant a closer inspection; they, too, are art.]
The other man who lives here. The two of you share a strain of...intense pathological disturbance. Woven into each other's lives so thoroughly that even from immensely different backgrounds and schools of thought, you've managed to find common ground in what the two of you hold dear.
[ Will doesn't exactly smile at the assessment, but he does look almost desperately fond. He stares at the floor for a moment, as if trying to hide a blush. ]
Yes. My partner is Malcolm Bright. This is his cabin, which I imagine you already knew. All the weapons are his.
[ The display cases are fully of weapons of a large variety types, clearly all from different eras and different civilizations. Nearly all of them are in excellent usable shape. The display cases themselves only use a simple lock, and- notably- neither of them are locked right now. There is a spot missing for a short, but very thin blade. ]
We've both been subject to mental and physical torture at the hands of serial killers. It's difficult to find people who understand what that does to you.
[this is cataloged with interest. Most people who display weapons don't go through the trouble of maintaining them to this caliber, or if they do, they certainly don't leave the doors unlocked.]
It would explain why you seem to be expecting trouble here.
[He says, gently opening and then closing the case door without taking anything.]
Strange that that could be read as a threat, but I'm not sensing hostility from you.
[ Will was lost in his thoughts for a moment, so he blinks with slight confusion. ]
Expecting troub-? Oh, because of the weapons? No, that's more of a hobby of Malcolm's. And both of us know that almost anything can be a weapon. Don't need a mace or a sword to kill someone.
[ He licks his lips for a moment. ]
There's no hostility, though. You're one of the most interesting people to come onto the Barge in a while. You're analytical and extremely observant. It seems like you're able to understand people from the outside in. I do the same, but it's more...from the inside out.
[It does make things more efficient, but he has his suspicions about this pack he's been hearing about and acknowledges that there is more to Malcolm and Will than appears at first glance
He makes no outward movement at the word interesting, but Thrawn does blink once when Will describes himself in turn]
An enviable skill. I regret that I often categorize living beings into threats, allies, enemies, but I have never been able to understand them as they wish to be understood. One of my greater failings.
Understanding them doesn't make it all that much easier, trust me.
[ He says it wryly, then gestures to one corner of the large living room. There's light pouring in the window of a kitchen nook, and an easel poking out from behind a corner. The last stop on Will's inadvertent tour. ]
Most would prefer that you have the same level of understanding that they do, so they feel familiar with interacting with you. But people especially hate when I notice things they hadn't intended to reveal, sometimes even to themselves. I might've been well served by your categorization system. Even as an adult, I often didn't catch threats in time.
[ He walks over and onto the tarp laying on the floor. There are two easels next to each other, one with a rather juvenile-looking picture of a dog. The other is clearly Will's, as it has multiple canvases and a couple of sketchbooks next to it. The portrait on the easel is one he's been struggling with for awhile. The layered paint is still there, but there's a strong frustration to this one. Blues are all but banished from the man's 'face', with only a small hint of them left among the yellows and oranges. Streaks indicate Will putting his fingers into the wet paint and tugging.
Will lets out a sigh, seeing it's that one. ]
Most of my art, I don't really have a use for. It's just getting out all the emotions so I can organize them more easily.
[Thrawn isn't given much for overt emotional expression, but his eyes grow narrower and he's more stiff and cold when looking at this latest painting of Will: it's akin to him recoiling in horror.
Not terror - horror. A dread of seeing one's fate in immaculate detail.
He scans the painting again, to grow used to its presence if not the repulsion it evokes]
I understand.
[He's not an artist himself, but Thrawn likes to sit and observe art around him more than anything. It's akin to meditation. He glances back to Will, but doesn't ask who is in the painting. It's not anyone on the ship, clearly: anger and obsession so intermingled would be far more present in Will's day-to-day interactions. Suffice it to say he will not be borrowing this one any time soon, unless it's to meditate on his own enemies he has yet to annihilate]
....I believe I enjoy your true-to-life landscapes most of all.
[ Will gets ready to take that portrait down, but catches Thrawn's immediate reaction and stops for a moment. Honestly, he should have guessed this would be the reaction.
He lets a heavy breath out before carefully setting it aside, and pulling one of the landscapes he has out of the more dry paintings. A jet-black wolf with shining yellow eyes in a winter woods landscape, this time. The wolf has a thick winter fur coat, with occasional raven feathers sticking out of it. ]
I do paint these when I'm...doing better. The last one was the result of a particularly bad flood. The last threat I failed to catch in time.
[ He opens his mouth to elaborate, but just shuts it a few seconds later. He's not sure he could sum up everything about it without that frustration coming back ten-fold. So he just gestures to the one he got out. ]
I don't think there's other influences on this one. It's the rare painting of mine that's just me.
If you paint to process your emotions - as evident here - then repressing them will do you no good. Even terrible failures and threats must be considered before one is to achieve peace.
[Thrawn replies, his features smoothing out a second or two later, back to normal. He won't ask Will to elaborate: it would feel like poking a raw wound]
Re: Voice
It's a good thing you didn't usurp the gazebo. That'd really put people in an uproar.
Re: Voice
Yes. Albeit my murder of Astarion seems to have already accomplished that.
May I beg a few moments of your time to ask about the paintings?
Re: Voice
And of course. I'm not...uh, properly trained or anything. This is something I learned in the gazebo. So I might have some gaps in my knowledge, terms and things like that.
Re: Voice
For example: you are uncomfortable in society as a whole, and prefer solitude. You would like to hide in nature if you could. Your brushstrokes are not only bold, they are stacked pigment, like the trees you want to disappear into.
Re: Voice
Well, now I'm really interested. What sort of questions do you have for me, if you've managed to figure out that much already? Usually, I'm the one telling people 'way too much' about themselves.
Re: Voice
May I have one of your pieces for my office?
Re: Voice
Sure. Would you like to come to my place and take a look? I do most of my painting there. There's a couple of pieces I'd like to hold onto, but you're welcome to any of the others.
Re: Voice
Re: Voice
Re: Voice
[He signs off with that severe-sounding promise. After he's had time to answer his other correspondences, Thrawn sets out to pay a call to one Will Graham.
If he had any kind of societal tact or cared about it in any way, he may have realized it might not be best to show up in the garb of a high-ranking naval officer but Thrawn has always felt most comfortable in the most uncomfortable of clothing and wears it like armor whenever he has to come into contact with the unknown. He doesn't do it to impress or intimidate his host, which also has led to some misunderstandings in the past: He does it because showing up in a poncho tends to get worse looks]
no subject
Thrawn? I'm Will Graham. Pleased to meet you. Please, come in.
[ The cabin is large, too large to be an inmate's cabin. It's a two-floor studio apartment, modernly (or modernly for 2021)-styled place, with expensive materials and extremely comfortable furnishings. The main bedroom is probably in the loft upstairs, but there is a large bed taking up the open space next to the kitchen. The bed appears to have leather restraints laying on top, secured to the bedposts.
The kitchen counter is what one sees when entering, with the bed to the right and the living room to the left. A small hallway leads back behind, mostly notable for the corner that holds bowls for feeding animals. There's a tank with two vibrant red-and-black snakes facing the sunken living room. Outside the many windows are the sights of New York City from about four floors up and a sunny Earth day.
This isn't Will's style at all, with very little nature around. However, it is all open, befitting a person who wants to see any threats coming. And there are a few touches here an there that suggest Will- a whittled and rough wood statue of a wolf, soft comfortable plaid shirts laid atop a chair, hiking boots near the door. ]
How have you been finding the Barge so far?
no subject
[The stiff, formal introductions over, Thrawn enters the home of what's fast becoming one of his favorite artists.
The restraints are immediately clocked, though Thrawn's initial hesitation is calmed by the secondary realization that Will wouldn't be stupid enough to leave this indiscretion lying about. Whatever activities he and this other person - for there is another person - are up to, it's entirely consensual from what Thrawn can surmise. Which actually comes as a relief; he hadn't wanted his first interaction with Will to delve into so awkward and personal a topic, even if open concept living quarters were the norm here.
He next turns to every living creature who isn't Will in the room, gazing at the snakes and, strangely, the bowls. There's residue heat from dogs, he thinks, his infrared gaze lingering once before returning to Will himself.
This isn't his quarters, but he's made himself a home here, buried in the embrace of another.
He's been silent, and only now checks in that Will asked him a question. He answers, as he always does, with the care that such a question prompts]
As a ship, a frustrating series of locked doors and incomprehensible design. As a prison, far more akin to a luxury cruise vessel than anything previously encountered.
As a collection of people, I find it exhilarating.
no subject
The assessment has him smiling, amused. ]
I would say that's extremely accurate. Although from my perspective, I would have to sometimes replace 'exhilarating' with 'nauseating'. Here, come on through the living room, our painting area's in the back.
[ That has the added benefit of showing Thrawn more of their place. The living room, not entirely viewable from the entrance, is elegantly adorned, with brick walls, bookcases, and a large, comfortable couch. More notable are the display cases of weapons on either side of the barely-used fireplace. There's a long notch or hatch in the ceiling above it.
On the left wall are two large art pieces, in ornate frames.
The incongruity continues here, with comfortable throw blankets on the couch, some ratty-looking dog toys and beds, and- yep, there are the two dogs, curled up on the couch next to each other. Winston raises his head and thumps his tail against the couch a little. Will seems to automatically scratch his head and tell him quietly that he's a 'good boy'. ]
These are my dogs, Winston and Buster. I...you probably don't have dogs wherever you're from. But I'm sure you've seen them around. The Barge has a lot of them now.
no subject
I have. Solace and Elvis.
[Thrawn stands to move to the middle of the room, for a better view of the whole of it. The weapons warrant a closer inspection; they, too, are art.]
The other man who lives here. The two of you share a strain of...intense pathological disturbance. Woven into each other's lives so thoroughly that even from immensely different backgrounds and schools of thought, you've managed to find common ground in what the two of you hold dear.
no subject
Yes. My partner is Malcolm Bright. This is his cabin, which I imagine you already knew. All the weapons are his.
[ The display cases are fully of weapons of a large variety types, clearly all from different eras and different civilizations. Nearly all of them are in excellent usable shape. The display cases themselves only use a simple lock, and- notably- neither of them are locked right now. There is a spot missing for a short, but very thin blade. ]
We've both been subject to mental and physical torture at the hands of serial killers. It's difficult to find people who understand what that does to you.
no subject
It would explain why you seem to be expecting trouble here.
[He says, gently opening and then closing the case door without taking anything.]
Strange that that could be read as a threat, but I'm not sensing hostility from you.
no subject
Expecting troub-? Oh, because of the weapons? No, that's more of a hobby of Malcolm's. And both of us know that almost anything can be a weapon. Don't need a mace or a sword to kill someone.
[ He licks his lips for a moment. ]
There's no hostility, though. You're one of the most interesting people to come onto the Barge in a while. You're analytical and extremely observant. It seems like you're able to understand people from the outside in. I do the same, but it's more...from the inside out.
no subject
[It does make things more efficient, but he has his suspicions about this pack he's been hearing about and acknowledges that there is more to Malcolm and Will than appears at first glance
He makes no outward movement at the word interesting, but Thrawn does blink once when Will describes himself in turn]
An enviable skill. I regret that I often categorize living beings into threats, allies, enemies, but I have never been able to understand them as they wish to be understood. One of my greater failings.
no subject
[ He says it wryly, then gestures to one corner of the large living room. There's light pouring in the window of a kitchen nook, and an easel poking out from behind a corner. The last stop on Will's inadvertent tour. ]
Most would prefer that you have the same level of understanding that they do, so they feel familiar with interacting with you. But people especially hate when I notice things they hadn't intended to reveal, sometimes even to themselves. I might've been well served by your categorization system. Even as an adult, I often didn't catch threats in time.
[ He walks over and onto the tarp laying on the floor. There are two easels next to each other, one with a rather juvenile-looking picture of a dog. The other is clearly Will's, as it has multiple canvases and a couple of sketchbooks next to it. The portrait on the easel is one he's been struggling with for awhile. The layered paint is still there, but there's a strong frustration to this one. Blues are all but banished from the man's 'face', with only a small hint of them left among the yellows and oranges. Streaks indicate Will putting his fingers into the wet paint and tugging.
Will lets out a sigh, seeing it's that one. ]
Most of my art, I don't really have a use for. It's just getting out all the emotions so I can organize them more easily.
no subject
Not terror - horror. A dread of seeing one's fate in immaculate detail.
He scans the painting again, to grow used to its presence if not the repulsion it evokes]
I understand.
[He's not an artist himself, but Thrawn likes to sit and observe art around him more than anything. It's akin to meditation. He glances back to Will, but doesn't ask who is in the painting. It's not anyone on the ship, clearly: anger and obsession so intermingled would be far more present in Will's day-to-day interactions. Suffice it to say he will not be borrowing this one any time soon, unless it's to meditate on his own enemies he has yet to annihilate]
....I believe I enjoy your true-to-life landscapes most of all.
no subject
He lets a heavy breath out before carefully setting it aside, and pulling one of the landscapes he has out of the more dry paintings. A jet-black wolf with shining yellow eyes in a winter woods landscape, this time. The wolf has a thick winter fur coat, with occasional raven feathers sticking out of it. ]
I do paint these when I'm...doing better. The last one was the result of a particularly bad flood. The last threat I failed to catch in time.
[ He opens his mouth to elaborate, but just shuts it a few seconds later. He's not sure he could sum up everything about it without that frustration coming back ten-fold. So he just gestures to the one he got out. ]
I don't think there's other influences on this one. It's the rare painting of mine that's just me.
no subject
[Thrawn replies, his features smoothing out a second or two later, back to normal. He won't ask Will to elaborate: it would feel like poking a raw wound]
So I see.
A magnificent creature in his element.