Inbox

[artistinexile]

You have reached the inbox of the former Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera and the Seventh Fleet, also formerly known as Senior Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Springhawk.

I will return your message promptly.

[The message repeats in six different languages]

Comments

[todayiwas]

No, I don't imagine it is. Perhaps if you can obtain a sample, that would be very helpful.

I would like to know if all death is the same.

[artistinexile]

I shall. It would certainly make your experiments more time-effective.

[Imagine not having to wait around for your cuts to heal like some pleb, Justine!]

To what end?

[todayiwas]

I like having my own data. I would also like to poll those who have experienced it. You have focused on the physical aspects, but I would also like insight on the mental and...moral.

[artistinexile]

Murkier territories. I doubt you'll find sufficient answers to the second without giving a great deal of thought into personal, professional, and cultural expectations of anyone who has ever died here.

I can tell you that morally, I struck first and expected a blow in return, which I was dealt. The matter is now settled between us and we will be at tentative peace. I was, in truth, more disappointed in those wardens who commented on Astarion's post about how they were obligated by their station not to congratulate him, which of course is a commendation all on its own. But it was good to know who not to offer trust in the future.

As to the first, I cannot help you. Even among my own people, I'm considered an anomaly.

[todayiwas]

I don't mind that. I am an anomaly of my own. However, I think there is merit in determining just where the moralities lie here, and I don't mind getting my hands dirty to dig properly into this topic. I'd like to see the split.

And honestly, this is the most enjoyment I've gained from an inquiry in quite some time!

Your input has been more than valuable, however, and if there is anything you would like to continue on purely the physical side, I would be more than happy to offer my assistance. I am very glad to have met you, Thrawn.

And no, you should not trust Monsieur Astarion. I quite enjoy him myself, but I think you have made a very poor impression indeed, even if the debt is settled.

[artistinexile]

Astarion knows his limitations and stayed within the boundary of mutual hostility: he is an adversary I can respect, one whom I wounded first. Our battle is over unless or until he wishes to re-engage.

I was speaking about Rawne, Song Zichen, and doubtless a few others who were clever enough to have kept their correspondence private but congratulated him nonetheless. Those are the more dangerous ones to watch.


You seem to have more of an understanding of people here than I likely ever will. I'm pleased you thought to reach out.

[todayiwas]

Ah! My mistake. I misunderstood.

That, about the wardens, is also the sort of information I wish to expand on.

When can you show me how to access your report?

[artistinexile]

Whenever you would like.

[todayiwas]

I have time now. Where shall I meet you?

[artistinexile]

My cabin has the necessary equipment. Level Eight, Cabin Eight.

[todayiwas]

Of course.

[And she will knock on his door a few moments later, stepping away and waiting for him to answer. She's in more work-appropriate attire for this visit, no corset under her plain, blue dress, an apron draped over the front and tied behind her.

[artistinexile]

[Thrawn opens the door himself, sliding it open to reveal a very alien sort of man. Thrawn is tall, thin, blue-skinned, and with red glowing eyes. His expression is one of muted curiosity, as he bows slightly at the waist in greeting, voice soft and low but distinct, curling around words with care. He's been misinterpreted plenty of times before]

Madamoiselle Florbelle. I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Enter and be welcome here.

[todayiwas]

[He really is blue! Fortunately, she is a master of schooling her face, so the surprise is a brief one.

She has an ear for words, but even that is a little beyond her at first speak. She gives him a curtsy instead and walks in.]

A pleasure.

[She holds out her communicator to him as she walks by.]

Show me, please.

[artistinexile]

[He takes the communicator and sets it on his desk. A hologram appears; a mirror image of what's already on Justine's screen. Thrawn directs a hand, pointing out each subsequent button]

Imagine a conventional stack of flimsis, or papers. You are researching a topic, and you wish to file these appropriately. In worlds and times before computers, typically you would use a filing system; a set of drawers with tabs, perhaps a category section or shorthand script to find what you're looking for, quickly.

Now imagine that all of your papers, all of your files and notes can fit here, in this device. This - [Thrawn taps the screen, making it all disappear] - is why this screen is conventionally called either a home, or desktop. As my desk here could have held papers at one time, this holds all of our shared research.

Now if I wished to create a new file - say, on our shared topic of death tolls - I would create a new folder, and label it as Death Tolls, or Death Toll Information. You may rename it if you wish.

[Thrawn goes slow, looking to Justine to make sure she's following as he explains]

You can see I've sent you the files I had as Astarion_death_toll and Thrawn_death_toll. We can move this file into our newly created folder by a motion called a 'click and drag', which I shall now demonstrate.

Opening the file itself is conducted in one of two ways. You may either click twice in rapid succession, or click while holding and selecting the option to open the file.

[As he does so, the text file Thrawn sent opens up in holo format. It details, painstakingly, everything Thrawn was able to determine, from body temperature to time of death-time of resurrection, to a pain scale he manufactured to show the rate of depreciation over time.]

[todayiwas]

Oh. [She blinks a little, watching between him and the device, trying to absorb everything that she can in the fastest way possible. It's hard having no context for it, but she's been here on the Barge long enough that she doesn't really need much more of a baseline.]

Fascinating. I think I understand. [She won't know until she gets a novel file, but that's a problem for later. She's already stepping closer so she can read the text on the screen.]

How did you get these measurements?

[artistinexile]

These were gathered posthumously on my own body, as I lay in the infirmary recovering. Astarion's file is far less complete, for obvious reasons.

[todayiwas]

[She looks a little more surprised.]

The infirmary has such instruments?

[artistinexile]

Yes. Many.

[He inclines his head, shutting down the computer and handing Justine her device back]

Most are standard units of measure. Blood pressure and heart rate are two of the most important, as a sudden drop or increase is a good indication that a worse adverse event is about to take place.

[todayiwas]

I have much to learn, but fortunately, I have all of the library and so many knowledgeable people to help.

[She inclines her head.]

Thank you. And do let me know about the bacta. I'd like to see it work for myself.

[artistinexile]

Of course. It was a pleasure speaking with you.

[genuinely!]

If you have further questions before I've secured the bacta, I am usually available.

[todayiwas]

[She holds up the device on her way back out of the door.]

This will keep me occupied for quite some time! [She flashes him another grin.]

My cabin is upstairs. First floor, third cabin. I'm awake most hours, so please stop by whenever you'd like.

[artistinexile]

[He inclines his head, intending to take Justine at her word]

I shall.

[todayiwas]

[She's gone with a polite wave, eager to get started on her massive amounts of reading.]