The Feluriaglade, as it’s founder had named it, was a redoubt of sorts, unknown to most of the inhabitants of the Citadel. It was a small grotto nestled on the far side of the mountain and overlooked the Spaceport. The opening was ringed on all sides by the walls of the mountain, yet easily spanned the size of a holoball field. Despite its size, the grassy verges and small pools of crystalline water were interspersed with tall evergreen ferns and meadows of flowers. It had originally been intended as a reflective and meditative area for the Consul, and later a monument to the First Pack of Cythraul. However, given the stressful times of war, it had seldom seen visitors.
Marick Tyris Arconae lead the way through the forgotten pathways that only a select few knew how to navigate. There were no guards or traps. There was a certain aura that defied scientific or scholarly explanation that seemed to keep it secluded.
“I had meant to show you this sooner…” the Hapan spoke calmly, and trailed off, knowing his company would understand the implication without him finishing it.
Padding silently at his heels, Fela was oddly muted, ears folded back, tail not swaying, only with the momentum of her three-legged walk, and nose and eyes down. The energetic Cythraul seemed somber for the first time in a very long while.
Marick turned to check on Zuza, unable to keep a faint worry from his otherwise stoic expression. He knew she probably had other things on her mind. Other fears, concerns, worries, responsibilities. He knew he couldn’t fix her problems for her. Knew she had people who loved and cared about her, and that she already had a father of a similar vein.
But there were few who truly knew the weight that an Arcona Consul bore. He just hoped that sharing this with her, and whatever words he managed to string together, would help, not hurt, the admirable new Consul.
He came to a stop as they entered the grotto, trees parted.
It had been a long few months. Kark, it had been a long year. There had been some peace when Frond was first bundled into her arms but hectic was understatement on everything since. Still, the glade was beautiful. Frond was picking up on whatever had Fela calm for once, the already giant pup, only just over a year old, padding quietly beside her with a slow wag to his own tail.
The war against the false gods was over. Yet.. there was still so much.
The collective was rising again, the Principate was spreading itself thin, Arcona is in recovery, she still flinches at blue hands reaching for her, still has pain from knowing her mother now and knowing the truth of that karking mess. The craving she kept getting for more from the Force. Having experienced what it was to be at the peak of power during the Blizzard, the memory of flying over the frozen streets of Kaisya still soared on and left a bittersweet trail behind them.
It was enough she missed the worried glance from Marick, realising he’d spoken only a moment before and hurriedly responding, “Its okay, there’s been a lot on.”
She stopped beside him at the entrance into the grotto, smiling at the picturesque setting it made. The way the sun flitted between the trees and created pockets of warmth on the ground that spread beyond the beams’ original reaches.
“..I see why you wanted me too see it.”
Marick nodded once. “I wasn’t…able to visit it for quite some time. Then, when I returned, it was too late.”
Fela’s ears remained flat, but Marick knelt down and ruffled the pups fur with a rarely publicly displayed affection.“It’s tough for her,” the Hapan explained. “The last time she was here, she saw her mothers grave. Fela is the last of the first pack…and was raised in a lab. So, my hope was that maybe seeing it with Frond would create a new memory for her.”
Marick nudged the three-legged Cythraul forward. She looked up at him with violet eyes that seemed ready to challenge him, but then acquiesced as she padded over towards her “cousin”.
“Be nice.”
She seemed to sniff at needing to be told such things. She was a lady so of course she could be nice. She sat primly in front of the larger wolf, then with a bold gesture, nudged her nose against his shoulder and then returned to her regal posture, nose going up, cloud of floof settling in around her.
Marick hid a faint smile as he glanced knowingly at Zuza. “Also figured you could use…a quiet space. And I wanted to not just offer my ears to listen, but perhaps share some of my…relatable experiences in the hopes that perhaps they might…help with the weight you carry.”
He had been so careful not to press her. When he had helped find her after being captured by the Collective, he had wanted to say more, but knew that was not what she neeeded at that moment. He would always try to support her. Not just because she was now the Consul- but because he genuinely believed in her, trusted her resolve, and Marick didn’t have all that many friends after all he’d been through in his career.
Words were wind, and fickle, and he was never great at them. He just hoped he was getting better- good enough, at least, that he could be actually helpful for once. Life before death he repeated the unspoken ideals to himself.
Frond blinked at being sniffed, leaning down and doing his own sniff of Fela, wagging his tail and looking to Zuza. She gave him a nod, smiling as the maroon Cythraul raised his back end, tail going a mile a dozen, before charging off into the glade with a bound to his step.
Her smile faded once Frond had charged off.
“I’m.. managing. Really. It’s a lot don’t get me wrong but- Well, just because I’m not ready doesn’t mean I’m karking it all up already i dont think. I don’t.. think this could have gone much better.”
Except maybe she could have had the defences better done. They should have expected resistance from multiple angles and not trusted the lake… Her gaze lowered, not seeing much of the grass of her feet but appearing to be staring intently at it.
Marick nodded, listening. Fela didn’t even look at him for permission or suggestion and was already following on Fronds trail, happy to be able to get her zooms out.
“I was younger than you are now, when I was given my first command,” he started, voice low, calm, toneless. “I lead our troops straight into a pincer trap- witnessed their deaths first hand. I froze. I made more mistakes….” his voice trailed, but there was no waivering or fear or trepidation. He tried to keep it short, tried to make sure he didn’t bore her.
“And while Qel-Droma rallied, and Arcona lead the charge for the Tenth Great Jedi War, we still lost everything in the end. I watched our Consul and Proconsul, who was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real father, shove me onto a shuttle and leave them behind to make sure the aerial strike could hit its mark. They gave their lives so that we–I could live.”
His eerily blue eyes were bright but distant. There was no sorrow at the memory, or any kind of expression really. Just the same neutral mask that Lottson had seen crack enough times to realize when it was firmly in place.
“I felt the shame rise in me. And lied awake for many nights after, knowing that history would have its eye on me.”
It was those events that lead to him being thrust into the Proconsul role that would change the course of his life forever.
His focus came back as he looked down at her. “So, let me tell you what I wish I had known, when I was young and dreamed of glory-or the power to protect my friends and give back to them the home they had given me-you have no control who lives, who dies, or who will tell your story.”
He let the words hang. He wanted to say more, but realized he should give give her time to think or consider. “You have not ‘karked’ anything up,” he did add, the swear seeming strange for his usually reserved and careful vernacular. Especially now that Kirra was soaking up new words like an eager sea sponge.
She’d had no idea. Zuza watched Marick carefully and.. after so many tea-dates with him and Atriyu it was odd to see the mask so firmly in place. It wasn’t unlike Cole, really, where it was a shield against the world.
She didn’t like those words. She wanted to save people, to help them. She didn’t much care for her legacy, if they bothered to remember her or not but the new Consul wasn’t… Zuza didn’t want to fail people. For them to die just.. because.
“I just want the story to.. not end badly. I don’t really, I don’t know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not ready for this Marick. Maybe I’ve not karked up now but if you, struggled then… well.”
Marick actually smiled at the admission. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and made eye contact with her. “And that is why you’re the perfect person for this, Zuza,” he said, using her first name instead of her last in hopes of showing a break from his usual formality.
He carefully removed the hand. “I know you care. It’s a strength, not a weakness. It’s a mistake I made over and over again until I’d lost everything.”
He remembered the distance between him and Atyiru when he had volunteered, as part of the Lotus, to infiltrate the Council and put an end to the Purge of the Undesirables. Leaving her by herself with the Clan. He remembered the explosion of their first contact with the Collective. He had felt her scream through the Force, the loss.
“No one is ever ready for this.” He blinked once, the moment of memory quickly fading.
“Leadership is also not just about always being right, or winning. It’s not about inspiring speeches. Trust me, I wasn’t asked to give many speeches as Consul,” while his voice was its usual monotone, he gestured at his body in a very Dad-like manner, making it clear he was trying to poke fun at himself.
His tone shifted slightly after a pause. “I’ve also worked for and served many leaders,” he continued.
“And what I’ve learned is that the best have always been the ones who did not want to be in leadership. Which, probably sounds counter-intuitive, but I think the underlying detail is that leadership for the sake of power is not real leadership. True leaders step up into power to make a difference and to help others. It’s a sacrifice that’s easy to write about, but your legacy will not be about success or failure. Your legacy will be the people you save. The people you inspire. The people you train and empower to move forward because you believe in them.” He looked very intently at her as he said the last part.
In the distance, Fela yipped, likely baiting Frond into playing some new game she invented but one that only she knew the rules to.
Zuza met his eye for a moment before looking away again. She was good at talking to people. She always had been. There wasn’t any doubt in that but that… it wasn’t all there was to it. Yet, she still gave a slight nod. She was more equipped for this than she thought, at least. That was a comfort of its own even if there was little others.
“I.. hope I can do that still then. It feels harder, now. I used to be able to go anywhere, talk to anyone and while I still could I’d be causing other problems. Kark that needs doing here in the citadel. I…” she exhaled softly, “I don’t know. Marick. I’m not gonna run away or anythin’, I’ll do it.”
Zuza couldn’t bring herself to word the next part, the fear of failure. He already knew that.
Marick was quiet a moment. “It’s a double-edged blade, indeed. You have the power to go anywhere and do anything, but the responsibility itself is like a shackle.”
He nodded once. “But if it was easy, anyone could do it. I know you will not run from it. However, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He paused, thinking for a moment, then continued.
“Walk with me.”
His words were calm, direct, and without any hint of control. It was a simple statement and the confidence he had was left unsaid, knowing she would follow. He started to walk through the forest glade.
“You will not be able to fix everything. You will not be able to save everyone. You will fail,” he started, again with no sense of bite to any of the words, just a simple statement of seeming fact. “And that’s okay,” he added.
“Do you know why?” he asked.
She had followed. Of course she had.
Okay to fail. Zuza kept her eyes on the forest around them. She didn’t want to fail. To see- Kark. The anxiety rose in her but she didn’t forget herself, quietly murmuring back, “Why?”
“The easy answer is that failure is a natural progression of life. No one is perfect all of the time. We make mistakes. And the true measure of our selves is how we handle those, grow, adapt, and ensure they don’t happen again.”
“But it’s not that simple, is it?” He paused but didn’t expect an answer.
“The truth is, the weight comes from Knowing that your mistakes can lead to countless lives being lost. That people depend on you to not to fail. I struggled with this. And my answer was to remove emotion. Become the perfect representation I thought I needed to be.”
“I didn’t realize until much later how wrong I was. But one thing I did learn: ”
A leader must be ready to send the troops under his command to their deaths. You do this because your duty supersedes your duty to yourself or even the Clan. It is acceptable to spend their lives if necessary. It is not acceptable, however, to waste those lives.
He recited.
“You would think it gets easier over time. It does in a way. But no matter what I do, it seems to follow me.” He gestured to the Golden Envoy badge on his cloak. “So it is up to us to make sure we aren’t wasting lives.”
“Does that make sense? ” He asked.
That. No it wasn’t a simple answer. It wasn’t even a good answer. It wasn’t fair.
Tears glazed her eyes, Zuza keeping her face turned away from Marick. No one should have to die but they already had. How many had been hurt due to her lacking intel as leader of the DIA? She didn’t know.
“It does.” She answered after a long few moments, her voice quiet. As if the trees of the glade could perhaps take it away from her so she wouldn’t have to but it didn’t.
Marick frowned, but it only showed his in eyes. He did not enjoy this.
So he carefully reached a hand out to touch hers. Nothing intimate, but a simple showing of reaching out. It was different when someone that wasn’t your blood, or even partner offered freely. It was a reminder of not being alone.
“The only thing we can do each day is remember that life comes before death. And that we honor the dead by not just living, but doing everything in our power to do better. It’s not fair. And I’m sorry.”
He fished into his cloak pocket and pulled out something. It was a simple leather cord with a wrapping of wolf hair.
He held it up for her. “The other reason this place has a lot of meaning. This is where I first met Kira. My Cythraul.”
“Grief is heavy and follows us. But we can draw strength. It’s why we named our first daughter after her. And everyday she shows me examples of how wrong I was in the past to think that there was no hope. Forward always…” he trailed off, now seemingly lost in thought and memory.
Zuza looked at the cord, the fur attached to it. Kira. She’d only ever heard of the Cythraul, her death coming before Zuza ever arrived in Arcona. She looked up slowly, meeting Marick’s steely but lost gaze for a moment before looking out on the glade herself.
“I’ll try, Marick.”
The yips of Frond and Fela playing carried over on the wind, heavy panting and the crashing of foliage being crushed under stamping paws and wagging tails.
“That’s all we can do, really,” he came out of his reverie to focus on her.
“And we are stronger together. Anything that I posses is yours to use.”
He stopped talking, and then just continued to walk, letting her follow, and just simply giving her space but making sure she took the time to also enjoy the sun, the trees, and the distant yips.
“There was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about, if you would permit me.”
Zuza looked to him, nodding, “Yeah?”
She was grateful for the offer of help but.. unsure.
“About what happened with the Collective,” he said carefully, watching her closely but with no hint of judgement. Just simple, calm, understanding.
“I wanted to share a part of my past in hopes that maybe it helped. You don’t have to tell me anything, but maybe hearing it will give you strength. Maybe not. Atyiru said that talking about things helps some people…but not all. I have never known when or how to tell the difference.”
He frowned, very evident on his otherwise neutral expression. Clearly upset at not being able to solve something.
“When I was growing up, my older sister abused me. Mentally, physically and…” he trailed off, hoping that she would know what he meant without him saying it. Still, he continued. “They would play games. Use me for them. Made me watch things. Participate in things. I was barely fourteen when it started. No one would believe me if I had said anything. I was just a bastard, there as a play thing for her and her cadre.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose at the memories. “It took me a very long time to learn trust in women in general. Let alone intimacy that was healthy. I don’t pretend to know your affairs, but. If you need someone to talk to about things like that….”
He made a vague gesture with one hand. “I’ve also been interrogated and put through similar strain beyond my childhood.”
He shrugged helplessly. “I doubt I am helping, but I know that sometimes its hard to tell things to your partner. Even if they can read your mind,” he said the last part a bit under his breath. “Wyn helped me talk through some things. It helped. I don’t reflexively tense anymore if Atyiru hugs me from behind at least.”
Oh. That. She watched him carefully as he spoke, noting the information but unsure how to respond exactly. She hadn’t spoken about that to anyone. Zig had worked out something happened, but- well.
Zuza rubbed her elbows, letting the quiet sit for a moments. The memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been. Everyone was safe, including her. That schutta was dead. They never did anything as… As bad as what others had been through. As Marick. She didn’t want him, anyone, to worry about her like that but… Evelyn’s words, spoken on how holding all the burden hurts those who want to help struck through. She’d be hurt, in the other shoe but it was so hard it wasn’t fair-
The moment had dragged on. She blinked, exhaling softly, “It was just.. to scare me. I think. I don’t even remember their face, y'know? But they just wanted to hurt me before killing me.” Her grip tightened on her arms, the pale scars still visible a year later though still fading. “It worked.”
Zuza’s voice was faint, struggling to admit it as much as anything else. “Zig.. has been great. She doesn’t know, exactly what happened but enough. No one else anything knows, really. I’m better. It could have been written off as… well. Everything else. I’m fine, really, now. About that, at least.”
Sometimes she still had memories of what she did following claw to the front of her mind, the rage she’d felt, how many she’d killed despite her injuries. The screams.
“Not totally fine, but- yeah.” Another exhale, her hand reaching up to brush against her collarbone where the oldest of her scars still marred the skin.
Marick nodded calmly, slight relief at her actually telling him. He had the curse of knowledge, of knowing, and seeing things that others overlooked. That also came with the weight of not knowing when to speak or be quiet, or what to say. “It will never be ‘totally’ fine. Time helps, heals. Just remember you’re not alone. And you always have someone to talk to about it.”
He took his cloak off and draped it around her shoulders. Then, carefully, he pulled her into a hug. He did not try to constrict or force it. It might have been the most forward thing he’d done with someone not in his immediate family, but he did not care, and just hoped he was being helpful.
Sometimes all it took was a simple touch, acknowledgement, or knowing that you weren’t alone.
Zuza felt tears build up in her eyes, inhaling slowly but it caught in her throat. She didn’t expect this at all but.. Marick saw everything. And he knew. He’d only lightly pressed on the floodgates but it had been in the right spot.
She leaned into the hug, carefully considering what had just been shared to her about his own past, but accepted the embrace as the tears escaped and all Zuza could do was let them fall.
Marick held her close. He had never been close with his sisters, or even those he’d grown and trained with over his career. But he had learned the warmth that came of having someone other than your partner that you could rely on for support. He had never been at home with either of Arcona’s two families; the Entars and the Erinos. He was of both families, and always on his own it had seemed. Finding Wyn, for all the headaches it brought, had been a piece to Marick’s larger puzzle and having control over his life.
He hoped he could finally prove or learn to be a good brother in that regard to others. Mentorship was so much more than a linear progression after all. His ‘father’ figures had passed, or left, and still had more impact than his actual father.
He gripped her carefully but firmly and rested his cheek against her hair. He slowly pulled back, letting her stay at arms length with his cloak still on her. When she looked at him, he offered her a small, yet sincere smile. “I’ll be with you no matter what. And you will get through it.”
She initially didn’t quite accept when he pulled away, clinging on for a few moments longer before allowing the embrace to end. It was weird, recieving comfort like that from Marick but she’d seen him change. Fatherhood, Atriyu, the recent years for him had all brought change and it was one that while no longer shocking, still caught her by surprise on occassion.
Not that she could all that surprised while crying into his cloak.
Another soft sob escaped her at his words, raising a cloak covered arm to hide her face. Kark. She wanted to be happy for people but, he was smiling. It was true.
People just wanted to help.
“I jus’ want everyon’ to be ok y'know” She mumbled, still pressing her face into the cloak.
“They will be. Because there is someone to shine a light. ‘Light is limited, darkness is infinite’ works both ways depending on the position of the sun and moon. You are the Clans sun right now. Just be yourself and keep trying your best,” he replied.
“I’ll do my best.”
After a moment she raised her head from the cloak and looked down on it.
“I.. uh. This should dry, soon.”
“You can have this one, if you’d like. It has a lot of little pockets I’ve always found useful. It’s called a Shaed. I know it’s not as flashy as a jacket or cape, but it is toughly made, worn, but treated for the elements. It can be a pillow, a brace, and help conceal.”
He paused. “It also looks cool,” he said, rather boldly by his standard.
Zuza laughed lightly, holding the cloak up to look at the supposed pockets.
“It does.” She agreed, folding it in half carefully and holding it close to her chest, looking up to Marick and speaking with words that meant more than anything just about the cape, “Thank you Marick.”
Marick’s smile was hidden again, but his eyes were bright, clear and sharp as they locked with hers. The smile was radiant in its own way, even if he had already returned to his more ‘resting’ face. “Anytime,” he squeezed her shoulder.