Real question: how tall are the Chiss to you?
There are no official heights for like any of the Chiss and that is a shame. Thrawn is roughly 6′4″ we know this because of the great Lars Mikkelsen. I’ve always imagined Thrawn to tower over everyone else. Lanky beanpole when he was a teenager type. Ba’kif is probably right at 6′ and Ar’alani is the same height. Thrass is either in the upper 5′ range or lower 6′. He is definitely not taller than Thrawn, but when they stood side-by-side I always imagined him to only be a few inches shorter. So maybe 6′1″? 6′2″? Thurfian isn’t 6′, about 5′10″ or 5′11″. He’s considered on the shorter side of the average. Zistalmu is taller than him, possibly Thrawn’s height. Thalias is shorter than him. Anywhere from the 5′7″-9″ range. Samakro is right at 5′11″. Kharill is about 6′5″-6″. He’s slightly taller than Thrawn.
But that’s not saying that Thrawn is overly tall, in fact he’s surrounded daily by chiss who are taller than him (personal headcannon that chiss grow to nearly 7′ on average). It just so happens that the people he finds himself with are usually shorter than him. Going to the Empire where everyone is human is a little bit of an adjustment, he feels like he’s a towering over them all. And on average he is half a foot taller than them.
The afterlife is very sacred to the Chiss. They live their entire lives in service to the Acendancy with the hope that they will be returned to the snow and ice that made them and return to watch over those who they set on the same path. Their students and prodigies.
Thrawn wouldn't pretend to have believed in the idea that after his death his spirit would be magically transported to land where everyone he had ever loved was, where he could watch his people grow, and be at peace. But he also wouldn't deny that he felt a need to protect the Acendancy and that he felt a deep connection to the cold snowy worlds. If he was a spiritual man he would say his soul longed for them. But Thrawn was never a spiritual man, instead he focused his days on protecting his people, his friends; teaching others so that they could do the same; and bettering himself. And in the final days he focused on making sure that his death wasn't in vain. That it meant something. And that final note didn't fall flat.
Thrawn didn't know what would come of him. An eternity burning as some humans believed, would certainly be torture for the Chiss. Wondering forever and ever on planes of ice alone with his thoughts, he couldn't say he would particularly enjoy that. He hoped for eternal darkness, the kind of rest you only get when you enter a deep dreamless sleep. He didn't expect the stories to be true.
He didn't expect to open his eyes and be greeted by soft white light.
Thrawn sat up, his arms coming to rest beside him, none of the sluggishness he had expected was there. There were no burn marks, no shrapnel, none of the telltale signs of the explosion that had taken his life. Or was it the assassin? The purrgil? He couldn't differentiate one moment of the past from another, it all slammed into one jumbled ball. Compared to the stark calm around him, it felt like a blizzard was tearing through his skull.
He held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself in his mother's tongue, trying to calm himself with the luxury he so rarely allowed. The blizzard was getting stronger. Where am I? Where was I? Who was I? Who am I? What am I? The storm continued to grow and twist and turn. Wrapping him in it's embrace as he slowly began to sink into the soft snow beneath him. A hand reached out and touched his shoulder, and it all came to a stop. The wind was frozen. And his head was empty, for what seemed the first time ever. Looking up at the one who saved him, the face of a Chiss woman stood above. Some 50 odd years younger than she should have been, her bluish black hair slicked back, and an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face stood Ar'alani.
"Mitth'raw'nuruodo..." she whispered, stroking his shoulder. "Come," she held out her hand for him to take.
And he did.
Rising to his feet with her help, he could feel the years sliding off of him, the age, the horrors, until nothing was left except the man he had been years before. With no worries except for the safety of his family. As he rose, he began to see them around him.
The laughing figure of a woman ran past, followed by a gaggle of young girls.
"Vurika!" She passed by.
Ar'alani pulled him forward, to the feet of a middle aged Chiss. He had crinkles around his eyes, but a smile on his face.
"My boy."
"General Ba'kif," Thrawn whispered, hardly recognizing this version of his commander. The older man smiled and slipped an arm around Thrawn's shoulders.
"No status here, simply Ba'kif," Thrawn smiled, a sense of warmth blossoming in his chest. He began to look around, counting off the faces he recognized. Rik'ardok, Mak'ro, In'daro, Ali'astov, even Urf'ianico. There were non-Chiss there as well, though none that he could make out. He saw a man with brown hair and a crooked smile and began his way, before Ba'kif's hand pulled him back with a small bittersweet smile on his face.
"Wha..."
Ar'alani stepped forward "He's not here yet Raw," She explained before once again taking him in her arms and pulling him forward.
"Where are you taking me?" The two Chiss stayed silent, smiles on the both of their faces as they traveled through the comforting cold, surrounded by the voices of the dead. Then standing before them a stadium, an exact replica of the chamber where so many times he was called to explain his actions to the Aristocra, they stopped. He looked around with confusion, wondering what this was. Before the images began. Eli, Faro, Che'ri, every living prodigy of his sprung to live before them. Living out their dreams, and fulfilling their duties to protect their Acendancy. A smile on his lips, the young Raw turned from the spools of colour only to find another man in front of him, a wry smile on his lips. A grin broke out on his own usually stoic face.
"Hello Thrass."
Thrawn was raised by a single working mother. After Borika was taken to the skywalker corps he was essentially raised as an only child.
Moreover, Ba'kif is Thrawn's biological father, the product of a fairly scandalous youth.
Imagine Thrawn being cast into the Unknown Regions with Ezra
Imagine Thrawn being found and rescued by the Chiss
Imagine Thrawn being taken back to the Acendancy and his home
Don't imagine Thrawn being taken in front of the Syndicure
Don't imagine them debating whether he should be accepted back into their society or returned to exile
Don't imagine Ba'kif and Ar'alani standing to the side knowing there is nothing they can do
Don't imagine the Syndicure nearly ruling against him
Don't imagine Thrawn standing up and speaking for the first time against them
Don't imagine him shouting at them that he has given his life for the Acendancy
Don't imagine him telling them that though he was ruled by the Empire his actions were for the benefit of the Chiss
Don't imagine Mitth'raw'nuruodo losing his composure
Don't imagine him screaming at his Patriarch
Don't imagine him calling himself a servant of the Chiss
Don't imagine him saying "I only want to come home"
Don't imagine the Syndicure stripping him of his titles
Don't imagine them turning him over to the Mitth
Instead imagine him returning home to his family and being granted a place in the Expansionary Defence Force
Imperial!Ezra ends up on the ISD Chimaera, found family with dads/mentors Eli Vanto and Thrawn.
Chiss Officer: How...how many children do you have, sir?
Ba'kif tiredly: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?
OCC Thrawn, Thurfian redemption arc, random idea!
Snow drifted past them all, sticking to their shoes and hair. His nose stung with the prickle of cold, his shoulders ached, and his hands began to numb. But Eli did not notice as he looked up at the face of the former Grand Admiral who stood before him, his head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. His red eyes were closed as tears trickled down the planes of his face, and Thrawn was smiling. A feeling of relief settling in his bones.
A Chiss with a general air of distain and wariness moved forward, an embroidered cloak, a sun on each shoulder, secured with a golden tassel moved forward and into Thrawn's line of sight.
“Exile.”
His eyes lifted up, tears still flowing freely.
“Thurfian, Patriarch. You are the one who called for my exile. Rest assured that whatever lesson you wished to instill in me, I have learned tenfold. I wish only peace upon the Chiss. But I understand our ways.” He fell to his hands and knees. “But please, if you are to kill me, shoot me now, so that I may not know a single more day away from Her.” Thrawn's finger curled around the snow beneath his palms, as if to soak up as much of the cold of his mother world as he could.
Thurfian, the Chiss, took a step back. His red eyes widening by a fraction. His head tilted to the others, military and political leaders alike, before turning his eyes once again to the Chiss before him. His shoulders slumped.
“Mitth’raw’nuruodo …” he stopped, and took a breath, he squared his shoulders, “My brother, you will not die today.” Thurfian unclipped the cloak from his shoulders and…and placed it on Thrawn’s.
“Welcome home, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Welcome back to Csilla.”