ANDROMEDA DEMIR
DRUCKENWELL PARKS
OVERLOOKING THE WATERFALL
DINNER • AFTER THYFERRA
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Heat rushed into Andromeda's cheeks, and for a moment she looked at him -- past him -- before dropping her gaze. She reached for the Force almost reflexively, drawing the flare of emotion down before she had even sorted hurt from anger or sadness from embarrassment. By the time she cleared her throat and reached for the wine, her face had blanched.
Andromeda lowered her gaze further, to her lap, and noted that the wrap had slipped a little, exposing the scar on her forearm. It was the very thing that had once inspired William to call her beautiful, and for one awful moment she wished she could cover it so completely that neither of them would ever have to think of it again. As she impatiently doubled the wrap over her scars, still caught inside that awful little rush of hurt and humiliation, the impulse came before she could stop: turn his question around on him.
Do you think I need fixing?
And of course, she was ashamed at once for thinking it in the first place. It was unfair and, worse, it was cruel.
"I -- thank you, William. I haven't forgotten," Andromeda said, allowing her eyes to trace the treeline before glancing over to him again with an affectionate smile. "I'm... still considering it." He could tell something was bothering her. The truth was, there was a myriad of things bothering her. Wanting to be beautiful at all had become another thing to interrogate: whether it was vanity, whether a Jedi ought to care, whether buying the stupid dress had been an indulgence dressed up as practicality.
Her eyes lingered on his; he was so breathtakingly beautiful, even with his brow creased with worry. She felt she could tell him everything, every stupid insecurity, every doubt, every anxiety of her own about the war. And she almost did. She leaned forward, allowing the table to hide her scar, and parted her lips as if to speak --
It wasn't exactly that she couldn't find the words; instead it was that she had rather too many words. And it would have been a poor repayment of his efforts to add to his burdens in that way. And did any of it matter, really, in the context of the war? So she met his gaze steadily. "I'm sure I don't know," Andromeda said quietly, "but I get the sense that the Council is not really... in control of events. Maybe it hasn't been since before that business with the Vanguard, even." She frowned and used one fingertip to adjust a spoon minutely on the tablecloth.
"The question is, what can be done about it?" she mused. "I worry that too many in the Senate will only view Thyferra as an opportunity to corner the market on other medicinal compounds. If there isn't an effort to take hold of events, I don't see how the Republic can hope to stand against the Sith."
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