Oh, look. a Wild writing hair once more.
A continuation from my last two pieces because you lot have probably dropped more Hug reactions on those 800-odd words than all other reactions I've gotten on this site combined.
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Gift.
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The day had been oddly quiet. The breakfast meal had endured the usual onlookers, pondering what 'Bread-chan' might consume, and the sight of her simply requesting some pancakes and maple syrup had the more-gossipy cadets practically vibrating in their seats, trying to parse the change in routine without making themselves too obvious as to why they were curious. If it were not considered rude to do so, she might have smirked, even as Durga politely, but firmly, rebuffed connection attempts for communications.
She felt Durga's gentle assurance and surety like a warm blanket resting over her shoulders, her impeller held close and only lightly layered; the day was special, after all, and her eternal guardian and companion would ensure her safety on this day, as Durga had since they had joined, so long ago.
A message popped up, from Sandra, simply wishing her well. The attention was so similar to long-past and faded thought that it nearly caused an involuntary hitch in her movement.
Recovering from the mis-step, she spent her day in a way that had not happened since she was barely four feet in height. Doing. Absolutely. Nothing. Productive.
The day passed her by as she wandered, exploring Perth with eyes and hands instead of network and impeller, basking in the bustle of humanity that she found herself in, like a stone redirecting water around itself, allowing itself to be gently pulled along by the current around it.
Hours later, a small chime came from within her storage, alerting her to what Durga had been doing since before she had awakened that day, a sense of gentle admonishment for trying to peek into the partitioned section followed quickly by a flush of encouragement, her partner silently suggesting she not express the creation until she was in her room.
The door slid shut behind her soundlessly, a mental wave locking it as the lights turned up, allowing her to sit in the small chair that was part of the furnishings, next to the virtually-untouched desk.
Alone except for her companion, which was expressing a sense of anticipation and curiosity. Pulling the item from her storage, she carefully set the container on the centre of her desk, fingers moving to carefully peel open tabs to allow the box to fall open in front of her.
Wrought in Tungsten Carbide, painted in elemental metals to bring life to a still image, her first flight was constructed in painstaking detail, glimmering beams of artificial sunlight revealing the giddy smile of a carefree child, and the careworn, kind, and patient expressions that had looked upon her so fondly. Carefully shifting it on its base, small gears turned, silent as they meshed together, a faint flicker resolving into how she looked now, all lean height and angles, embracing the effigies of her parents and being embraced in kind.
A fingertip brushed against the cool metal of the base as she carefully looked over every part, a quiet voice emanating from a hidden speaker. "Anna. No matter where you go, no matter who you meet, or what hardships you face, I want you to know that no matter what, your father and I love you. We will always love you, and nothing will ever change that."
A faint, slightly-tinny tune started playing, in line with a half-forgotten song from long, long ago, soothing the tears of a red-haired child with a skinned knee.
"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.."
Unbidden, tears fell, as a quavering voice took up the gentle refrain with the memory of her parents.
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