[It could be a blessing or a curse— the repetitive cycle of haunting, harrowing thoughts that've circled his mind for weeks on end, promises of a swift and terrible end for those servants of the Empire— to see Eli Vanto here now, so unharmed and undoubtedly real. A solid, undeniable weight beneath his fingers.
He does not dream. He does not sleep enough to warrant it, and this fails to fit the description in its feeling rather than form.
Thrawn's grip relaxes, his weight shifting carefully so as not to cause any further bruising— his gaze drifting low enough at last to register the high collar of a dark uniform that isn't Imperial, but something much more familiar. The Chiss' expression twists, his eyebrows suddenly tightly kitted together.]
no subject
He does not dream. He does not sleep enough to warrant it, and this fails to fit the description in its feeling rather than form.
Thrawn's grip relaxes, his weight shifting carefully so as not to cause any further bruising— his gaze drifting low enough at last to register the high collar of a dark uniform that isn't Imperial, but something much more familiar. The Chiss' expression twists, his eyebrows suddenly tightly kitted together.]
What is this?
[
he's too stunned to move to stand, sorry Eli]