empathicfault | IC Inbox

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.

Edited (missed a sentence) 2024-08-14 19:42 (UTC)

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]

So I see.

A magnificent creature in his element.

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