Sunshine is to Flowers

Calla Lily

Upon studying Sola's poetry, Thrawn was able to ascertain several things. One was that she became more private the older she got. Even though the poems themselves still highlight specific images, they came less and less from private experience and more into a general personal experience realm. He didn't know if that was deliberate or unconscious on her part, but it was obvious that she was putting a barrier between herself and the world around her.

And when he thought about it, she rarely talked about herself. When she did, it was in general about items that were already well known about her. She tended to direct the conversation away from herself in a way that was unnoticeable if one wasn't paying attention. But now, Thrawn was paying attention.

She wanted her private thoughts to remain her own. Something had happened to her to cause her to fear revealing too much of herself to others. He remembered Ryloth, when they "spoke of maps," and how frightened she had been. Her voice had barely been above a whisper and the tension around her big blue eyes had caused the fine lines around them to deepen. He strongly suspected she was afraid of being outed as a Force-user. Perhaps she had witnessed another Force-user be disappeared for their talent. Perhaps the stories of those disappearances were enough to make her afraid. Perhaps someone had once outed her and she was not going to make the mistake again. He doubted that, though. If she was publicly known as a Force-user, then she wouldn't be there to have tea with him.

The second thing he noticed was that her poetry became less formal as she continued to write it. Her earlier pieces, of which he'd found two poetry readings where she performed, were very structured, following a rhyme, meter, and type pattern. As she aged, the poetry became more free-flowing and image based. Perhaps from her removal from the formal school system for so long, though rumor had it that she tutored her own children when they were grade school age. Perhaps it was from her own loosening of bonds, having lost both of her parents, being removed from her homeworld, leaving the workforce to care for children. Perhaps she had simply gotten more used to poetry and felt more free with her form.

When Sola arrived on the Chimaera, he went to the hangar bay to greet her. She exited the small military craft, designated to the Crimson Asp, he noticed. So, she'd been to visit with her brother before coming over to him. She wore lace, had he ever seen her without lace? Even her nightgown had lace at the collar and sleeves. She was followed by an old model domestic mouse droid. It had a basket on its top with two bouquets and a basket of flowers.

"Grand Admiral!" she beamed, bouncing down the exit ramp and stopping directly in front of him. She looked up at him a moment, a forearm's length away from him. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air between them growing tingly. She then touched her chest and reached out to touch his. "It is good to see you again, my friend."

"It is good to see you, also," he told her. Neither one of them took a step back. "You brought flowers for tea?" he said, gesturing to the housedroid.

"Oh, they aren't from me," she said with a hand in the air. "They are from your potential allies."

He raised an eyebrow as he swiveled to her side and put out his elbow for her take. "I beg your pardon?"

"They're messages," she explained as she slipped her arm into his and they began walking one of his captains following. "People obviously thought I was discreet enough to be the messenger."

"Messages?" He glanced dubiously at the housedroid carrying the flowers.

"It's an ancient code of communication amongst the upper class. Each flower means something alone, and then something else when combined with other flowers. Sometimes it takes a little to decipher the message, but I like to think I'm rather good at it." She drew herself a little taller and smiled proudly.