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Thrawn and Eli stood shoulder to shoulder, their fingertips brushing as they took in the series of paintings spanning down the hallway in front of them.
“Tell me what you see,” Thrawn said, voice softly spoken, just for Eli’s ears despite the empty gallery around them.
Eli took in the painting before him, the first one in the row of many. “It looks like some sort of small bird - not a species I’ve ever seen before.” He tilted his head, his attention catching on the painting next to the first, “That’s the same bird - it’s in flight here in the first one and it’s landed on some perch in the second. And-“ he took a step down the hall, inspecting the third painting, then the fourth, his gaze sweeping down the rest of the paintings. “These are all the same bird - just becoming more and more abstract in each successive painting.”
“Correct. All twenty four of these paintings,” Thrawn replied, a hand indicating the other side of the gallery wall where the last painting hung, “depict the same subject in varying forms.”
Eli nodded, taking in the paintings going further down. “They all have that distinct green and white coloring of the first one, although those-“ he pointed towards one of the paintings in the middle, where green and white circles replaced recognizable shape, “-certainly don’t look like birds.” He took a few steps down the hall, taking in the art, sensing rather than seeing Thrawn follow with quiet footsteps behind him - a comforting presence at his back.
“It is titled The Morai,” Thrawn offered.
Eli turned to look at him. “The Morai being the name of the bird?”
Thrawn nodded once and Eli turned his attention back to the paintings as his steps brought him towards the end of the row, to the final painting where the bird had morphed seemingly back from abstraction back into the recognizable shape of the bird from the first painting. “It’s almost as if-“ he narrowed his eyes in thought.
“Yes?”
“It’s…a series. Some sort of progression through time, like the bird is evolving with each stage of abstraction.”
“Very good,” Thrawn said, and Eli felt heat rush through him at the praise. “The Morai is a creature of legend, depicted in many forms throughout history.”
Eli shook his head, “I’ve never heard-“
“You would not have,” Thrawn said, not unkindly. “She has been depicted throughout history as a manifestation of the light side of the force.”
Eli’s eyes widened as his gaze darted around the room, ensuring nobody had overheard the words Thrawn had just said. “Thrawn,” he hissed under his breath. They were more unrecognizable in the civilian clothing Thrawn had insisted they wear and were certainly off the beaten path in this gallery located a few hundred levels below the surface of Coruscant but he hadn’t realized Thrawn had brought him here to discuss the kind of topics that could get them arrested. “You know we can’t talk about-“
“It’s quite alright,” Thrawn said, resting a hand on the small of Eli’s back, turning him gently as if to pull his attention from his anxiety and back to the art in front of them.
Eli gestured towards the paintings, “What about-“
“Those who know what they depict keep them safe.”
Eli turned his head and Thrawn met his gaze, the reassurance in those glowing red eyes allowing Eli to let go of the breath he had been holding onto. He knew Thrawn wouldn’t be showing him this, wouldn’t put him in danger, if he didn’t have a good reason.
He allowed himself to relax, to feel the grounding pressure of Thrawn’s hand on his back. “The embodiment of the force…” he mused, turning his attention from Thrawn beside him back to the paintings.
“Precisely.”
“Okay, who made them?” Eli asked the question that had been on his mind since he had been unable to spot an information plaque upon walking into the room - which he now had to assume was a method of protection for the work.
“The only known information on the paintings is that they were restored after being recovered on the planet Tython; however, I believe the artist had a strong connection to the force.”
“A Jedi?”
Thrawn shook his head. “No,” he considered the paintings, hand still firmly rested on Eli’s back - Eli could feel the warmth of it through his thin shirt, so different from the thickness of his standard navy uniform. “The artwork of the Jedi holds very clear delineations as to what is considered ‘light’ and ‘dark’ sides of the force. This work-“
“It’s very muddled.” Eli interrupted, taking note of the way in which as the bird shifted forms, so did the color schemes of the backgrounds behind it - some light enough they seemed to glow, some so dark it was as if they had sucked out all of the color of the others, some neutral, some bright with reds and blues and yellows.
Eli felt Thrawn’s fingers curl on his back. “Exactly,” he said, and Eli couldn’t help the way his body leaned into Thrawn’s, as if to chase the feel of his voice. “I believe the artist that created this must have been a wielder of the force, but not a Jedi. In fact, her work seems to follow a school of abstract artists who created their art under the advisement of the force as a spiritual guide.”
“So…” Eli mused, “These paintings depict some sort of progression through the force itself?”
“That was my conclusion as well,” Eli turned his head in time to catch the small upturn at the corners of Thrawn’s lips. “I believe it portrays the progression of the force through the life of those who can wield it, beginning with the force existing in totality on its own in the first painting with the Morai pictured clearly, then experiencing the abstraction of the life it inhabits then ultimately returning that being to the force and beginning again.”
With that interpretation in mind, Eli could see it - could see the bird as it melded itself into a life lived throughout the series of paintings. But- his brow furrowed as he studied the center paintings.
Thrawn noticed Eli’s attention shift. “What do you see?”
“The abstract paintings, they’re very-“ he took in the neat squares, the perfect circles, the sharp lines, “geometric, almost mathematical. It’s too perfect to be anything but calculated.” Thrawn remained silent, despite the thumb of his hand rubbing circles on Eli’s back, urging him - in the way only Thrawn could - to continue. “Is it implying then that the nature of the manifestation of the force in a person is…predictable? That you could use equations and data to understand it?”
Eli could feel Thrawn’s gaze on the side of his face and when he turned his head to meet his eyes, hoping to see that approving look that always sent heat through his skin, his breath caught at the intense look Thrawn was giving him instead. Thrawn was looking at him as if he held the secret of the universe in the palms of his hand and Eli got the sense that something deeper was at play here than just an afternoon of analyzing a piece of art together.
The intensity disappeared before Eli could understand what that look had even meant - quickly morphing itself instead into a heat Eli was all too familiar with and his attention promptly distracted by the hand that slid itself beneath Eli’s shirt, fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of his pants. Eli felt like his skin was on fire where Thrawn’s palm was splayed across his back.
“Did I get it all then?” he breathed, head falling slightly backwards as his gaze dropped to Thrawn’s lips. He didn’t know why Thrawn was showing him this, what he was trying to tell him. They had no dealings with whatever the Emperor and his inquisitors were doing with the force sensitives and as far as he knew, they had bigger problems to deal with than that.
But Eli found he couldn’t really find it in himself to worry about it when Thrawn nodded his head and breathed “yes.”