Post by D’Vorah on Dec 21, 2020 2:47:47 GMT
"I suppose you're right. I know being judged by my cover fist hand, even though one of your guild had tried to take me back to my creators some hundred years ago. I suppose we are both oddballs." D'Vorah reasoned as her eyes stared absentmindedly out the window. It's hard to believe he visited me out of the blue all those years ago. I'm even sitting in the same spot, D'Vorah spared the Hopeknaught a glance. And now you unknowingly say where he did a lifetime ago. She gave a soft smile at the memory. "I came here to take a trip down memory lane, and I've found much more. It's not what I asked for, but it was a pleasant surprise."
D'Vorah stood up from her seat to headed back to her cabinet. Watching the mech try to remove stains from his armor with a dry washrag grew incredibly tiresome. Crouching down the lower cabinet she pulled out a canister of cleaning liquid, she had bought it a millennia ago at the market and was rather pleased to see that their was still some left. She had worried there would be none left. Grabbing a spare washrag she made her way over to the Hopeknaught.
"I give an inch, and you ask for a mile. You are an acquaintance, not my therapist or my overseer.”
"I know, but that could change. You could walk away with a friend today, if you wished." Or if you stopped being stubborn and allowed it to happen. D'Vorah held up her washrag and the cleaning liquid. "May I? Watching you struggle to remove stains with a dry washrag was rather painful."
"A migraine. I may have something for that. A friend of mine who was in to botany showed me a few herbs that are natural pain relievers, they always helped me when my helmaches spiraled out of control." D'Vorah offered. She briefly wondered were that friend was now. The young, vivacious acrobat she had worked with. I wonder if she's still alive. D'Vorah shook her helm at the thought, though she could still feel herself frowning.
D'Vorah stood up from her seat to headed back to her cabinet. Watching the mech try to remove stains from his armor with a dry washrag grew incredibly tiresome. Crouching down the lower cabinet she pulled out a canister of cleaning liquid, she had bought it a millennia ago at the market and was rather pleased to see that their was still some left. She had worried there would be none left. Grabbing a spare washrag she made her way over to the Hopeknaught.
"I give an inch, and you ask for a mile. You are an acquaintance, not my therapist or my overseer.”
"I know, but that could change. You could walk away with a friend today, if you wished." Or if you stopped being stubborn and allowed it to happen. D'Vorah held up her washrag and the cleaning liquid. "May I? Watching you struggle to remove stains with a dry washrag was rather painful."
"A migraine. I may have something for that. A friend of mine who was in to botany showed me a few herbs that are natural pain relievers, they always helped me when my helmaches spiraled out of control." D'Vorah offered. She briefly wondered were that friend was now. The young, vivacious acrobat she had worked with. I wonder if she's still alive. D'Vorah shook her helm at the thought, though she could still feel herself frowning.