(Igraine nods in clear approval, lifting the cardigan to fold it, regrettably, and put it back when she took it from. Her gaze then flicks from Murderbot to the rest of the display, sizing it up. Loose clothing, less restrictive. She says, questioning, clearing things aside to see underneath of them,) Do you want your garments long, or short? (Lovely, long, loose skirts are something of a favourite for Igraine.
She is not trying to listen to this person's heart. Not purposefully. Igraine has found that, with practice, she can tune them out if she likes. It does feel respectful to. But an odd, wet clunk catches her ear, and, holding a white blouse in her hands, she pauses with her eyes on Murderbot.
It isn't very loud, not like a human or animal heart, both of which pulse and seethe obscenely in her ear if Igraine allows them to. It's a lot easier to ignore it when she isn't hungry. Today, she is not. She drank from a swan this morning, sunk her teeth into its neck and sucked and held it tucked underneath of her arm while it died, like a football, which was pleasant. She's felt light and airy for hours afterward like her feet could leave the ground at any moment.
Anyway. The person near to her, asking about clothing. Describing knitting in an overly complicated way. Igraine straightens up again, confused. Slowly, the mechanical thump of what could only be a mechanical heart fills her ears.)
Nobody taught you how to knit. (That is how you say that. Take note.
cw animal death mention
She is not trying to listen to this person's heart. Not purposefully. Igraine has found that, with practice, she can tune them out if she likes. It does feel respectful to. But an odd, wet clunk catches her ear, and, holding a white blouse in her hands, she pauses with her eyes on Murderbot.
It isn't very loud, not like a human or animal heart, both of which pulse and seethe obscenely in her ear if Igraine allows them to. It's a lot easier to ignore it when she isn't hungry. Today, she is not. She drank from a swan this morning, sunk her teeth into its neck and sucked and held it tucked underneath of her arm while it died, like a football, which was pleasant. She's felt light and airy for hours afterward like her feet could leave the ground at any moment.
Anyway. The person near to her, asking about clothing. Describing knitting in an overly complicated way. Igraine straightens up again, confused. Slowly, the mechanical thump of what could only be a mechanical heart fills her ears.)
Nobody taught you how to knit. (That is how you say that. Take note.
To put it bluntly:) You're different.