The Spider and the Storm

He nodded and watched her gracefully ascend the steps. After a moment he headed to his own quarters to set down his single bag and take a look around. He may do some wandering -only befitting of a bodyguard to understand his surroundings- but he needed to avoid the appearance of prodding, of which he'd so often been accused. There was a history to this house, as there were to anything involving this family it seemed, but it was likely nothing useful. His thoughts now were turned onto what might be the purpose of this meeting. There where whispers of it in the air- he picked up a few things that Thalassa had allowed him to see, and the rest he had gathered from common sense. This was not a business deal or a friendly visit. There was tensity to the situation. Perhaps some veiled distrust. But of what? That he was not sure. He would not have to wait for long, however.

The room Sirejj would be staying in was larger than most master bedrooms and certainly larger than any guest room he might have stayed in before. There was a lavish canopy bed against one wall, with sensible but expensive white sheets and a dark blue coverlet. There was a generously sized closet off to one side and an adjoining bathroom with a bath large enough to comfortably accommodate two people. Many individuals had been in this room over the years, each leaving their mark on it in their own way but not strongly enough to make a singular impression in the Force.

Spoiler

unless there's anything in the house we need to see we can prolly go to when they meet mothma

also thinkin of revamping bro's staff and actually getting a design for it, gonna bully my sister into drawing some stuff for me lol

It was huge. He'd grown accustomed to seeing the lavish living of Thalassa Motti, but he was constantly surprised at how truly well off she was. Of course, this was also Governor Tarkin's estate- there was the influence of them both in its design. He chuckled to himself at the idea of a scavenging outer rim Zabrack sleeping a night in the quarters fit for a king. Certainly an upgrade from ships quarters and tree branches.

He set down his few things. There wasn't much to unpack. Even having the option of a much larger wardrobe than he was used to -which historically consisted of maybe a single change of clothes and his cloak- he prefered to travel light. They didn't intend to stay long anyway.

The home of Mon Mothma stood out in sharp contrast to the dark and gilded walls of the Tarkin-Motti domain. It was both extravagant and spare, a vast expanse of ivory and brass replete with expansive chandeliers that arched down from reinforced hanging structures and cast fractals of light across the ribbed walls. One was made to feel small the moment one entered, swallowed by the entryway and its nonagonal doorways. Potted trees bloomed in every corner--the genuine article, no less--coiling gracefully from their pebbly soil.

The woman herself seemed a part of the building when she stepped out to greet her guests, wrapped in an off-white ensemble that echoed the shapes of the apartment's vaulted alcoves. Her jewelry was minimal; she sported only a pair of silver earrings and a Chandrilan pendant across her chest. She was not young, nor was she old, and the grace with which she comported herself spoke of experience beyond her years. Her face was angular and kind, her expression carefully polite and her blue eyes deceptively vacant--they landed nowhere for long but gave the illusion of extended eye contact. At first the senator seemed little more than a wisp of a woman compared to broad and sturdy Thalassa draped in heavy gray silk and sapphires, but something in the way she carried herself grounded her on this plane--spoke of something much deeper going on under the vapid smile. It was almost as if she wanted people to look away from her, for their gazes to sweep past and dismiss her as inconsequential.

"Lady Tarkin," the Senator greeted the older woman with a small bob of the knees and then grasped her hand with both of hers. She had a deep voice, regal and ponderous. Thalassa had heard it ring out in the Senate Chambers on more than one occasion, preaching reason and moderation with a gravity that was difficult to ignore. "Welcome to my home. I'm pleased to finally have the opportunity to speak with you one-on-one."

"It does seem we keep missing each other at the galas," Thalassa said with a gracious nod, accepting the handshake.

Senator Mothma smiled at her, but her expression faltered into one of confusion and curiosity for the briefest second as he gaze shifted to Sirejj.

"A precaution." Thalassa seemed to have read her mind. "My husband has attracted unwanted attention of late; I thought it best to have extra security while I'm on Coruscant."

"Of course." The senator's gaze slid away after taking in Sirejj's tattoos and his garb. She seemed wary of him, but had opted to move on to other things for the moment. "If you'll follow me to the dining room, I already have luncheon prepared."

Her mind, if Sirejj cared to look, was a tightly-closed fist. Anxiety bubbled underneath the surface, tamped down and kept at bay by deep-seated determination and righteous anger. Above it all was revulsion--being in the presence of Thalassa Motti was anything but a pleasure to this woman. Needs must, though--Mon Mothma was nothing if not persistent, and she was an inquiring person to boot. Why would the Grand Moff's wife want to meet with her, of all people? Was she under suspicion, or was there something the old woman wanted from her that required discretion?

Sirejj was accustomed to suspicion. He was Dathomiri. Their kind was renowned for their aggression and cunning. His presence upset Mon Mothma less than he'd suspected. She was not the frail senator he'd pictured in his mind. Smaller in frame than Thalassa and far more simply dressed, she did not carry the same initial power and extravagance that the Lady Motti put forth. This meant precious little. Her mind was tightly locked- her individual thoughts were indiscernible to him. She was clearly uncomfortable, but to the naked eye, she was deceitfully calm. This was not her first excursion.

However, he sensed her suspicion was far less of him and much more of Thalassa. More than this, resentment seethed behind her eyes. He sensed an almost Jedi-like righteous indignation towards Thalassa especially, but to something much broader as well. There was a similar distant hatred he'd also sensed in Thalassa during their brief discussions of their interactions with the Empire. It was well hidden, but far beneath both of their cold exteriors, there was that singular similarity. Sirejj began to wonder what exactly Thalassa was plotting, and how it would affect him.

He said nothing and followed Thalassa like a shadow. He did not know how much of their discussion he would be able to overhear, if any. His curiosity was piqued, but he doubted he would get the chance to listen in.

The meal was, as Thalassa had warned Sirejj, quite spare. The appetizers set before them as they seated themselves were little more than garnishes, and a meager but very expensive entree was laid out on the table alongside a bottle of white wine.

"Motti Industries has been busy," Senator Mothma said when they had seated themselves, a measure of caution in her tone. "You've slowed your funding in surprising places, my Lady, if you don't mind my being so frank."

"Not at all." Thalassa waved a droid over, and it poured her a glass of the wine. Mothma shifted in her seat, looking like she was about to protest, but she kept her peace. "I'm flattered that you keep such a close eye on my business, Senator." She took the wine and swirled it a little, then gave it a light sniff. "Mm. You have good taste."

"Thank you." The Senator gave a little nod of acknowledgement. "Would your bodyguard care to join us for the meal?"

"If he likes." Thalassa spared Sirejj a brief glance. "It appears you're eager to get down to brass tacks, as it were, Senator Mothma. I generally prefer a little idle chatter before I begin conducting business, but I can understand your apprehension." Her long nails tapped on the wine glass; her meal was as yet untouched. There was hesitation in her thoughts; she wasn't sure she trusted Mothma's discretion, but her tone was firm and cold as she said, "You'll forgive my caution, but this place is secure, is that correct? No recording devices, nothing of that sort?"

"This is my home, Lady Tarkin," Mothma said with an incredulous laugh. "I can assure you--"

Thalassa turned to Sirejj. "What do you think? Is she lying?"

"No." Sirejj said with a slight shake of his head. He did not sit, but instead stood a step back from Thalassa's chair. This meal was for formality only. He took on a similar air to Thalassa. If she decided to be friendly, then he would sit. If she continued her coarse and direct handling of this senator, then he would stay where he was.

Both were on edge- almost too much so. A slight frown crossed Sirejj's face.

Mon Mothma sat rigid in her chair, quiet anger stirring in her mind. Her distaste for this woman was growing with every passing moment, though the only outward indication of those was that her lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

Thalassa turned back to face her, seeming satisfied. "Then I'll get straight to the point. I know you've been funneling funds toward something other than charities, Senator." She let that sink in and was pleased to see the younger woman's face drain of color. "Please, dear, I keep very thorough tabs on the people who aren't interested in either of the Motti Family's services. I like to keep my enemies and my enemies-to-be quite close indeed."

Mothma sat there absorbing this information for a moment. It was too late to deny she hadn't been funding charities, and so her mind was spinning around possibilities and why Thalassa was here. Was this a formality, to soften her up before the Governor's stormtroopers came in here to take her away? She looked Thalassa dead in the eye now, keeping her voice calm.
"I presume you haven't kept this information to yourself."

"I haven't told who you think I've told," Thalassa said evasively. "That wouldn't serve my purposes at all." She leaned forward and picked up her fork, stabbing it into the little cube of bread and sauce on her plate. "What if I told you I was interested in investing in these 'charities?'

The Senator scoffed. "Do you think I'm a fool?"

"I think you're new to being this kind of careful."

"And you speak from experience?"

"Most definitely." Thalassa's eyes, hard and brown as nutshells, were trained on Mon Mothma. "And I also speak from experience when I say whatever you're doing, whatever you're trying to start, it's not going to get far without money. People are going to notice your coffers are running dry; my friends in the Banking Clan seem to think you'll be bankrupt in the next five or six years."

Mothma was quiet for a moment; her gaze was fixed on Sirejj instead of Thalassa, and it did not leave him as she addressed the head of the Treacle. "With all due respect, Lady Tarkin, you are the last person I would expect to offer me a helping hand of any kind."

Sirejj met her gaze with cool indifference. He studied her. Her icy blue eyes and fair complexion were accented by her pale garb and delicate adornments. Her beauty was simple, almost girlish compared to Thalassa, and it was almost easy to overlook her as part of the room itself. He was surprised at the boldness with which she met Thalassa's forward treatment. Her simplicity was skin deep- behind those eyes her mind was sharp as steel and her thoughts remained tightly organized, though a few slipped through the cracks as their eyes met.

Many users of the Force overlooked the simple biology of sentient beings. The eyes were the gateway to the soul, as the saying went, and a simple look told Sirejj much. He remained as still as stone with his staff planted into the floor beside him. He stood straight but not rigid, putting forth an air of confidence both in himself and the lady in front of him. He appeared to have full trust in her ability to handle herself. Indeed, even his frightening appearance was dwarfed by Thalassa's dominant air. He was content to stay in her shadow, for that is what he was, only to creep out if need be. Not a shred of doubt could be found in his own faded green eyes, even though deep inside his curiosity was eating at him. Thalassa's plans were becoming clearer to him now, but there was still far more to discuss.

"You're well within your rights to doubt my good will, Senator," Thalassa replied. "I won't begrudge you your wariness, which is why I've come here prepared to share something of myself with you. I came expecting to have to earn your understanding, if not your trust."

"And your chances of doing so are dwindling with every minute that passes and every word that comes out of your mouth." There was a new bite to Mothma's words; the kid gloves were off. Her eyes shifted away from Thalassa. "You and your husband have done unthinkable things. Your drug empire has caused thousands to lose their jobs, their families, their lives. Governor Tarkin has committed multiple crimes against sentience at large, wiping out an entire civilization in one fell swoop and crushing any dissent in the Outer Rim indiscriminately. You're predators, the both of you."

A very small smile turned up the corners of Thalassa's lips. "Those are strong words for a purportedly insipid senator. Have I caused you offense in such a short amount of time?"

Mon Mothma squared her shoulders, pausing for a beat. "How can I be expected to mince my words," she said slowly, with a touch more calm, "when you and the Governor are party to the Emperor's war on democracy and human decency? Do you deserve propriety?"

"I am here about my son."

Mon Mothma blinked, nonplussed.

"I've done all you say, Senator, and more, and I don't care to recount all the atrocities my husband has committed. They're well known--celebrated, even. But I'm not here to talk about the past, at least not for long." Thalassa set down her wine. "You're a mother as well, aren't you? You have a daughter."

"Leida." Mothma nodded warily.

"How old is she?"

"Eight."

"Charming. She'll grow up fast, just you wait." Thalassa's eyes grew distant for a moment, then she focused on the senator again. "My son was murdered, as you know. He went missing on Atoa for months, and when he was recovered he was dead." Her fingers twisted the wine glass back and forth, back and forth as she spoke, her voice dipping into a lulling quality. "I cried myself sick the day Wilhuff brought him home--tucked myself away in the bathtub and sobbed until I threw up. How do you--how do you reckon with that kind of loss? My boy was there, alive somewhere in the galaxy, and then suddenly he's lying cold and still in a box..." Her words were delivered steadily, but the pain and hollowness in her mind had risen up like a tidal wave, the memory of that day and the days that followed rattling against the walls of her tidy consciousness: Days upon days in bed, unable to think of anything but dying. Zee curling up beside her when it became too much to bear, making sure she drank water, holding her in her arms until she stopped weeping. Hushed words between Zee and Wilhuff from outside the bedroom door--one urgent and one grudgingly attentive. Thalassa's hair unwashed, her clothes unchanged, her cheeks sunken.
"...My grief didn't come easy. I was unwell for some weeks, and even when I could bear to bathe and eat and drink again I couldn't shake this emptiness." She placed a hand on her heart, massaging it slightly. "And doubt...I never trusted the man Wilhuff sent after Garoche. You know of the Emperor's guard dog, I'm sure."

"I do." Mothma seemed leery of invoking the name. Her expression remained unchanged.

"We both doubted him, really, though Wilhuff was more willing to let it go. Still, it nagged at us until something gave and we both decided we'd put it to rest once and for all. That's where Sirejj here comes in." Thalassa turned back to him. "Would you like to tell it?"

Spoiler

writers block has been broken i think im losing it over this story again

Sirejj took a half step sideways so he stood in full view of Mothma rather than hiding behind Thalassa's chair.

"I was sent to uncover the fate of Garoche Tarkin, and that I did." He remembered the cat's tooth under his shirt as he spoke. Pictures of Atoa flickered vividly across his mind. They were unpleasant, but such was the fate of that doomed world. "His disappearance on Atoa led to a search. The Emperor's hound overturned every inch of that world searching, leaving a wake of blood and bodies behind him." He seethed a little here, his disdain for the Sith and their careless wasteful ways ever present.

"Garoche left the Imperial ranks willingly." He glanced at Thalassa before continuing. "When he was finally confronted by the Emperor's right-hand, he was cut down in cold blood." He lifted his staff a half inch from the ground and let it drop, making a dull thud against the ground. "And this was not the story that his family was told." He'd left out many details. He would share them if Thalassa commanded, but he was careful. Spilling this story was risky enough.

Spoiler

YESSSS
That is a FANTASTIC avatar by the way

Mon Mothma's brow furrowed as she listened, eyes flicking from Thalassa to Sirejj. "And you only just found this out?" she asked.

"Last year." Thalassa nodded. "My husband...appears to have taken it in stride, as he does with most things. He's gone back to work to serve the men who killed our son. But me?" Her face was grim. "Rebel or not, Garoche was my family. He was everything to me. So I'm going to take what is dearest to Vader and the Emperor: their Empire."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of their meaning seeming to freeze time. Mon Mothma sat back in her seat, studying Thalassa with a new curiosity.

"You have come into my house," she said at last, "and spoken blatantly of treason, of conspiring to overthrow Palpatine."

"I have."

"I should turn you in to the authorities." Mothma rested her elbows on the table. "That would be the lawful thing to do."

Thalassa smiled again. "But the right thing...?"

Mothma sighed. "Clearly you know more about me than I do about you, Lady Tarkin. But tell me this. How exactly do you intend on dismantling an entire government, and what do you want to rise from the ashes? Retracting your lommite imports and pulling funds from various projects will only do so much; Emperor Palpatine has Gladys Scuttle as his cash cow. He's not wanting for money."

"Gladys is a friend," Thalassa said with a shrug. "I'm sure I can talk her into putting her money elsewhere. If not, well, there are other ways. But on a broader scale...infighting. I know whose buttons to push, who has grudges with whom. The ISB is a good place to start; they're efficient and if we sow discord too high up the chain of command, they'll look into it. So we start from the bottom, maybe start a few whispers and a few scandals to distract Colonel Yularen and the Majors, get them pointing at each other. Then we plant more seeds and let them crumple in on themselves."

"With the personalities currently on High Command, that could lead to--"

"Civil war? Possibly." Thalassa grinned openly now. "Likely, even, with Director Krennic as the scapegoat. He's not known for taking insults lightly, and he has many enemies..."

"It sounds as though you have this planned out already," Mothma said. "Where do I come in? Why have you come here?"

"I need allies on the 'other side,' so to speak. I assume you have a network in need of money for supplies or whatever else they're using to keep their little faction afloat. I'd be willing to funnel money into that endeavour, as well as share certain knowledge given to me by unwilling or unwitting accomplices." Thalassa steepled her fingers; her food was relatively untouched, the fork still resting in the chunk of bread. "I have two requests. First, you will provide me with any information I request--any intelligence your people pick up, and rumors of concrete dissent or scandal. Second, I may see fit to direct the energy of your more militant allies one way or another to more effectively distract the ISB. Maybe they plan to attack an Imperial outpost in the Outer Rim and I send them to the Mid Rim instead. Such interferences would be infrequent, but I want the option to be open."

Spoiler

randomly found it, definitely fits my vibe

The flicker of doubt that Sirejj felt at Thalassa's words he kept hidden. He couldn't say he was surprised, but the severity of her words caused the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. The hatred she had towards Vader was understandable, but many people hated him, and so far none of them had been successful in defeating him, and most who tried ended up exactly has Garoche Tarkin had.

He couldn't lie to himself. A full on Rebellion sounded like something he wouldn't want to be a part of, but at the same time, safety itself, no matter where he was, was an illusion. He stood a better chance when he was inevitably discovered if he had resources at hand rather than if he was alone. Within the Treacle he had some freedom. There would at least be the warning of an attack. There was some safety in numbers.

He listened carefully. He was guest to a conversation that would ruin the lives of Mothma and Thalassa if discovered. This single detail was a reminder of exactly how much trust Thalassa had in him, and the consequences if he betrayed that trust. He did not bother to consider the last situation.