Is this just fantasy?
"I have to say, Lady Ciaran, you have one of the most diverse collections I have seen."
"What can I say? I and my organization have come across so
many interesting things."
Ciaran and Thrawn slowly walk between the artifacts gathered from the more important missions. In what is known as the 'Vault' to those few who know of its existence, there are esoteric and rare items mixed in with other more mundane things that nonetheless hold important memories to their owners. The Mandalorian Darksaber is raised next to a simple pair of sunglasses.
Thrawn stops at one in particular. On the wall is an advertisement banner for the Galactic Games of 3627. His red eyes take in the simple piece. In the center is the symbol for the Galactic Republic crowned on the top by a semicircle of the civilized portion of the galaxy. Underneath it is a picture of a simple line of athletes flanked by a slideshow of different sports and equipment. Next to the banner is one for the Coruscanti Huttball team. A gold sun is in the top-background. On the bottom and the sides are the team members themselves kneeling towards the center with their heads down. They are all wearing at least some form of medal. In the center is a visage of Ciaran's upper body. She's wearing immaculate robes and an expensive looking visor studded with jewels. The sun's rays make it seem as if there's a halo surrounding her head.
Thrawn raises an eyebrow at the saintly image and asks, "What is the story behind this one?"
Ciaran turns back from reading an apology letter and notices what Thrawn is looking at. Her lips purse before a sad smile grows. She walks up to stand beside Thrawn and explains.
"This was during a … difficult time for my Watchers. Becoming so well known in all walks of life has its perks but … it also has its dangers. From what gramps and Gulan were able to figure out, I had angered a crime lord who at the time was powerful in the underworld. An assassin was hired and I was gassed and went into a coma. During this time, and while the organization was destroying said crime lord and any and all associates, Gramps decided to go ahead with a personal project of mine that I had been planning just before.
The Coruscanti team for the Galactic Games was known to be horrible so I had thought that with a little bit of training and better equipment they might get at least one medal. It was supposed to be a simple propaganda piece to get my name further out there. Gramps decided to go ahead with it even with everything else going on. That year's Huttball championship saw this team rise up to third place. It was a hilarious farce of a match when I woke up and saw it. Even so, since my name was tied to their winning, they decided to thank me."
Ciaran finishes with a large smile on her face. She's bending in to look closer at the banner. She leans back and finds Thrawn turned towards and focusing in on her. He slowly turns his head to look back at the Huttball banner.
"The banner is definitely well made for a giving of thanks, but … an important part of it falls short of greatness."
"Oh?"
Ciaran smirks and raises a single and elegant eyebrow above her visor.
"What part of it falls short?"
Thrawn turns back to face Ciaran.
"Your portrait in the middle. There are flaws to it."
Thrawn steps closer to Ciaran and looks over her. He takes her hand and brings it up to see it better. His ruby eyes zero in on her skin.
"Your complexion is smooth and flawless while I can see blotches of discolor in the banner."
Thrawn slowly brings her knuckles up to his lips and gives them a chaste kiss. Ciaran hums in amusement.
"Is there anything else that might harm the portrait?"
Thrawn nods minutely and carefully lets go of Ciaran's hand. He brings the same hand he used up next to her cheek. His hand then slides behind and combs through her hair that falls neatly behind her.
"There also are faults in the hair. The banner shows it as dull and plain whereas you always appear gifted in it being lush and tastefully done."
The same hand the moves back and brushes Ciaran's cheek. His thumb sticks out and gently caresses her lips which have grown into a wide smile.
"Your lips, I see, are full and vibrant. They are a lovely rose colored. Not the pale and flat peach that we are shown. However, … there is one part that is sadly the same."
Ciaran's smile lowers into a small frown. Her eyebrows lower beneath the visor. She pouts for a moment.
"You simply must tell. You wouldn't want to worry a lady, would you?"
Thrawn finally smiles and gives another small nod.
"Of course, my lady. It is a very easily fixed issue."
Thrawn uses both hands to softly take a hold of Ciaran's visor. With the utmost care, he lifts the visor above her head and places it onto a nearby pedestal. He then looks directly into Ciaran's eyes.
"The visor shown hides the most important component. Without it, I am able to see the most beautiful jewels you own. Radiant purple gemstones that bring the whole piece to its zenith. Within them I see fire, intelligence, and the cleverness that brings low even a Jedi. With them, the portrait I am gifted with becomes so much more than a mere banner."
Ciaran's smile has returned and is the widest possible. A graceful laugh escapes her and she leans in looking up into Thrawn's own eyes. Thrawn sees the mischievousness in them that Ciaran is well known for. She speaks.
"What do I become then?"
Thrawn himself leans down as well.
"A perfect masterpiece."
Thrawn and Ciaran's eyes slowly close and the distance between them is torn down. Just before their lips touch, the entire scene is torn away.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Silas Cata wakes up in a cold sweat and quickly begins cursing. Sometime on the very same day, everyone in the Watchers reads a very confusing statement issued by an anonymous higher up.
- Lady Ciaran is henceforth not to be considered mere artwork.
- Lady Ciaran is not to be touched in any way.
- Thrawn is to always have a personal assistant present in the same room as him and able to see him whenever Lady Ciaran and him are in the same system. No ifs, ands, or buts.
The rumor mill is immediately lit on fire. The next day a message from Lady Ciaran is sent out on the same channels.
"Lady Ciaran here. Apparently there has been some … hmm …
not so minor confusion as to the 'mysterious' officer's message. I would like to clear that up. My advisor, Silas Cata, seems to have had-
come across a misleading idea that unknowns have nurtured an, and I quote, 'unhealthy fascination' with certain individuals on the Grand Council. While we are flattered that our - *a snicker is heard* - 'visage' seems to have attracted such misleading ideas, they are just that. Misleading and with no basis in fact. Those orders from yesterday, and you know which ones those are so don't push your luck, are rescinded.
On the other hand, there's good news for those poor ambitious souls! Thrawn and a few others on the Council actually did like the idea of personal assistants. If there are any sector or oversector Guardian officers interested in learning about military strategy, tactics, and planning, feel free to submit a request to Admiral Thrawn of the CNS Navy. Other assistant positions include Ms. Sair in research, PR-1 in finance, and Gulan in intelligence. That last one means
you Cünuel. Ambition or none, there's no getting out of that one.
Anyway, keep up the good work! Later, tata!"
A\N: "Is this the good stuff ... or is this bad fantasy? Caught in the gutter, no escape from bad shipping. Open your mouth, scream out to the sky and fleeeee~!!!"
So that discussion of Ciaran's love life? Yeah ... I hate you all.
