Anderson had arrived to the Citadel to inform Zuza of Draca’s condition, and to discuss the date that the Combat Master would be departing Selen for hopefully the final pro-longed stay for a long time. Anderson had intended the meeting with Zuza to be a quick conversation in a private, small room.
Alas, his intentions were often thwarted these days.
Instead, he had arrived to the room to find it empty. 5 minutes after their proposed meeting time, he asked a guard where the Shadow Lady had been last seen and decided, with growing annoyance, to go locate her. In the easiest part of this, he found her in the Throne Room, distracted and looking practically half asleep on the Serpentine Throne.
It had only been after he started talking that he realised she hadn’t even noticed he was there.
The next 10 seconds were a flurry of annoyance, quickly turned to something else as Zuza rose from the seat with a bloodied nose like a frightened Nexu. Retreating but with claws quickly snapping out. Claws that were uncharactertisically easy to disarm. Claws linked to legs that, only after Zuza seemingly finally noticed it was Anders stood before her, gave way beneath the Consul.
Zuza stared at the blood staining the back of her hand. For as much as she wanted to run, to try and forget this ever happened, her legs felt like jelly. The gears turned painfully slowly, the headache roaring in the back of her mind clawing its way into her awareness.
“K..kark.” It was barely a mumble, but at least something worked.
Not a word.
Nothing.
The features on Anders’ face turned neutral. The scowl he held had vanished like steam upon a mirror. His lips flattened into a line on his face aa his eyes narrowed upon the staggering form of the Arcona Shadow Lady.
He did not move to help her. At least not immediately. His eyes scanned like a medical droid searching for any sign of damage. From what could deduce, she had not sustained any physical ailments, even if the trickle of blood from her nose seemed to suggest otherwise. An aneurism caused by mental distress? There could be internal brain hemorrhaging at the very worst, though that seemed unlikely.
Alas, Anders was neither a healer, nor a doctor. The way Zuza moved towards him suggested a level of stress that had finally managed to crack the shell of her optimism.
First things first; deal.with the bleeding. It was time to test his hypothesis.
He approached cautiously. He was aware how this might appear should anyone interrupt them, but leaving her could result in far worse injuries.
He placed his hands gently on her temples and ushered a command through the Force.
“Relax.”
Zuza’s shoulders lowered, her breathing slowing to a far more natural rate. It took a few seconds but the effect was notable and she provided little resistance. Whether that was due to her state or her trust in Anders, well, that was a good question.
She was still pale and in pain, but there was no new blood following the trail that Zuza had smeared across her upper lip.
Zuza let out a steadying exhale, pulling back from Anders’ touch and pressing a hand to the back of her head. For a moment she scrunched her eyes closed before forcing them back open again. She glanced around the room, finding nothing out of the expected except for… well.
Pained guilt flooded her expression. Shame. “I.. overdid it.” She winced, lowering her voice, “I’m sorry.”
“Hush.”
The order was direct, but no harsh, like a parent attempting to console their child after they had hurt themselves. Yes, the bleeding had stopped, but the stress on her brain still remained.
With the telepathic link established, he carefully reduced the strain. Zuza seemed more tired now. Dizzy, and no wonder, given what Anders was feeling.
Finally, he carefully released her, silently thankful for the lack of any interruption. For the moment, Zuza would be fine.
“Better?” He asked, taking a step back and folding his hands behind his back.
She was still going to need medical attention. Many, sadly, underestimated the effect of the mental and emotional on the living brain. Treatment was something he was going to insist upon.
Zuza shifted, testing each movement with careful focus. She got herself settled on her butt and nodded to Anders question. Though her thoughts were far from simply checking over her body.
To say she was stressed was the understatement of the year. Anders got glimpses of her torture two years ago, the person that inflicted it on her barely visible in her memory but still there. Choking, igniting fear. Panic that lingered as, in her barely conscious state, she had mistaken the hand reaching for her for that memory. Though it was quickly being quietened again with each breath she took. They’re dead, her thoughts chanted in the back with the memory of bashing chains until the face she never retained was beyond recognition by anyone else.
Everything else was less bury-able. Isolation clung to her and so did the Serpentine Throne behind them. Whispering through those who sat upon it, letting them reach across and hear conversations as if they were present. A far too small plaster for her actual issue, yet a crutch to lean on for someone so used to constantly interacting with friends unable to. Also one that caused its own issues, if Zuza’s sudden onset migraine was anything to go by. How long had she been sat there, listening?
Despite her issues, Zuza had been at the face of every issue in the clan. Throwing herself into a world completely unfamiliar to herself was a lot of itself, but even now as she had glanced to make sure there were no guards the Human was clearly not adapting. Shame, guilt and frustration had effectively burst her bubble. All the lives lost in the war against the False Gods, had fuelled her push to ensure that now the threats from within were handled, Arcona wasn’t blindsided from a threat from outside. Yet every failure, true or percieved, fell heavy on her. From missing important events of those she loves, to the crushing weight of knowing her decisions caused loss. It all pressed.
Zuza wasn’t doing well. Even as she now struck up a tiny smile, embarrassed and ashamed as it was. She was also actively thinking of ways to get out of the situation. None really stuck, much to Zuza’s discomfort.
“Is… Draca out of hospital?” She asked, more so out of actual concern as the realisation of what their meeting was going to be about returned to her. But, there was the happy coincidence there too.
“Yes, he is,” Anders took a step back from Zuza to give her the personal space she needed.
As well as get a good glance at the Serpentine Throne.
He had never noticed it before, but now that he tapped into the Force, he recognised something weighty within the room. He had, up to this point, chalked it up to the pressure of leadership.
A throne like that, however, if hypothesis was correct, and it usually was, then it would tear apart the minds of lesser beings. Such connections to the Force required a sturdy mind and a stomach for the more gruesome aspects of life.
Even then, there was only so much one person could take.
“That bed is now available for you.”
Upon closer inspection, Zuza had lost weight, and she was already slender to begin with. Her skin had turned a ghostly white, and she barely seemed to register what was happening.
“No.” Was her immediate response. As dazed as she was she still shook her head, adamant even in her mind that she was not going to sit in a hospital.
“I just overdid it. I’ll be fine. I-” She inhaled sharply, pulling her knees up to her chest. Zuza pressed her cheek to her legs. It was almost ridiculous, how small she was when the energy was gone and the smile broken. “Please don’t.”
It wasn’t like she’d be able to stop the Combat Master, but there was a quiet hope that she’d be able to just go sleep this off. It’d be okay. There was too much to do. So much to do. Her shoulders shook, avoiding Anders’ eyes, avoiding the shadow of the throne cast sideways across the room.
Typical, stubborn, selfless Zuza Lottson. She is tbe type that will literally think of everyone else before considering her own needs and wants. If Arcona was a ship and it was burning, she would evacuate everyone else and happily go down with the ship.
It was rare to find such generosity in this galaxy. People, regardless of species, usually had ulterior motives, agendas, and desires.
Here, he had a different problem; convincing her to seek aid and think about herself for once. He could use the Force. Absolutely, he could. It would be simple given the state of her psyche.
Alas, she needed to realise this on her own.
“What would Ms. Kaliska think if she walked into this room right now and saw you in your current state? What would she say?”
“That I’m a doofus and shouldve gone home already.” Zuza mumbled, “Probably, not again Zu. Except there’s no Tiexsema this time, just me being…”
A few words followed that sentence in her thoughts. Alone was the first. Dumb and reckless quickly followed before ending up back on alone. She didn’t speak it aloud.
She looked up at Anders, still through the glaze of the migraine growing. Zig wasn’t in the room. She grasped for one of the few straws she could, even if it barely a distraction, “What are you thinking?”
Anders pursed his lips. Honesty. He was a man who lived by his thoughts and opinions and never repressed them. Now should be no exception.
“What I think, is that you have performed your duties admirably. I do believe it is time to pass the torch, as it were.”
He waited to here her response.
There was a long moment before she responded. Her shoulders shook slightly before she inhaled, shifting slowly to her knees with intent to stand. Soon. Slowly, but soon. She wavered, unbalanced for the absurdly sure-footed woman. Truly, it wasn’t clear if she’d be able to take a step but she forced her way up either way. It wasn’t much relief for her neck, still craning as Zuza looked up, eyes welling with barely restrained tears in her eyes to meet his gaze.
“Did I prove ya wrong? Back at the party. You said to remember who serves who. Not tools but people. Together. I promised.” Zuza blinked, tilting her head down to wipe away the rebellious tear that broke free. She pressed her palm against her eye, voice shaking as she continued, “I could hear them screaming. When they were burning. Tiexsema could and I was in- I could hear them. Through, her. I can still- They didn’t have to die-”
Her hand lowered to her mouth, shoulders drawing in. There was no clear line of thought, though those memories clawed to the front of her mind.
Draca had made him soft.
That was Anders’ first thought as he watched the young woman crumple in front of him. Here she was, the most influential and powerful woman in the Dajorra, admired and loved by many, shrunken to the small, petite woman that she actually was. Anders barely recognised her physical height, but right here, right now, their difference was as stark as a mountain.
He did the first thing that came to mind, he placed a hand, just one hand, on her shoulder, and pulled her in for what was, admittedly, an awkward embrace.
“Yes,” he finally answered. “You have proven me wrong. Death is inevitable. Sometimes justified, sometimes not. Those screams will tear you apart. Use those memories to make yourself stronger.”
Zuza crumbled. There was no other way to say it.
She half fell into him at the pull, and promptly faceplanted into his side. Anders could feel her shaking, the tears were harder to hide when your face was pressed into another person. And they didn’t stop, now released even as Zuza tried to stem the flow it was too late.
She didn’t initially return the embrace but after a few moments her arms raised, wrapping around him and holding on. He started this one.
And if she leaned some weight on him, who was to say.
Anders’ eyes wandered over towards the door. With a nudge from the Force, he ensured the door was well and truly shut. The last thing they needed was to be seen. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and whilst Zuza was still the Arcona Shadow Lady, he would not allow her vulnerability to be seen as he carefully stroked her shoulder. If Darth Lenora saw him now.
He almost shuddered, but shook the traitorous thought from his mind.
Then, he just waited. What else could he do? Psychologically speaking, with Zuza’s outpouring, she would hopefully be more willing to see reason.
Of course, the Human mind was an enigma, even to him.
Once Zuza’s muffled cries turned to whimpers, he pried her from him.
“Better?” He asked.
She sniffled, nodding slightly and after a beat passed, finally straightened and took the small step to create space. Not that she exactly wanted it, but Zuza knew Anders and while she was far from well… Her shoulders felt lighter. The weight on her chest was still there but it was less oppressive. All her failures weren’t staining her very skin.
“I am.” Was the eventual reply, Zuza wiping at her eyes again and glancing toward the door. It was shut. That was a relief. She sighed, looking up Anders’ gaze with red eyes and tear stained cheeks, “Do I still have to go to hospital?”
“Yes, I do believe you do,” Andets looked her over again. Bloodshot eyes made worse by tears, cracked skin whiter than a blinding star, and just like that shining star, she was burning out. “Do you require an escort?”
It was the least he could offer given her condition. At the very least, he might stop getting unwanted glares and looks of resentment from the surrounding Arconans at his presence. It appeared Ruka, the flase Sith, might have had something to do with that. Then again, who was to say?
“Kark.” Zuza muttered, hugging her arms around herself.
It made sense why. Logically it wasn’t a bad idea considering her head still felt like a rancor was knocking on her skull. It did not mean the notion sounded any better.
But, after a few moments Zuza nodded, gaze lowering. “A friend walking with me would be nice.”
“Excellent,” with a nonchalant wave of his hand, Anders forced the door open. “You will have to forgive me, my knowledge regarding the layout of the area is limited. You will have to direct me as we walk.”
He gestured for Zuza to proceed.
She nodded, looking toward the door. Not feeling exactly steady still, even just the aisle walk to leave the throne room felt like a lot.
Zuza took advantage of the gesturing arm, looping hers into the crook of Anders’ arm. She smiled, trying to play it off as a silly thing though the waver to her walk just to do that wasn’t exactly easy to miss.
“You’re forgiven. Let’s just go before I change my mind, it’s… well. Upstairs.”
Anders raised a brow. “I do find it intriguing that the throne is not at the top, or at the forefront of this structure, but then again, I am not Arconan.”
With that, he guided her towards getting some much needed medical attention, ignoring all the stares and looks he was getting along the way.