[It will occur later to Konoha that androids might not... grow nails. Or hair. Or teeth. Or skin. But like always... she forgets to treat A2 like anything but a human.
She settles softly, quietly, into the motion, careful about setting her hoof in A2's hand. Her parents used to help her file her back hooves. She remembers, eyes closing a moment, being smaller, long, spindly limbs splayed over the dirt floor of their home, burying her face in her father's side while her mother carefully filed away at the hooves she chipped in the rough play of children. Remembers the days before heading off to work when she'd pause at the doorframe, lean against it and chat as her father bent his aging spine to chuckle and drag the file along.
It's a calming sound. A little bit of a painful sound.
When A2's voice ripples out over it, Konoha takes a moment to respond. Longer than she thought she'd need.]
... Thank you.
[But,]
... I wanted to say something, too. About the dream place... I didn't mean to intrude.
no subject
She settles softly, quietly, into the motion, careful about setting her hoof in A2's hand. Her parents used to help her file her back hooves. She remembers, eyes closing a moment, being smaller, long, spindly limbs splayed over the dirt floor of their home, burying her face in her father's side while her mother carefully filed away at the hooves she chipped in the rough play of children. Remembers the days before heading off to work when she'd pause at the doorframe, lean against it and chat as her father bent his aging spine to chuckle and drag the file along.
It's a calming sound. A little bit of a painful sound.
When A2's voice ripples out over it, Konoha takes a moment to respond. Longer than she thought she'd need.]
... Thank you.
[But,]
... I wanted to say something, too. About the dream place... I didn't mean to intrude.