Liin "Tera" Terallo
Neither here nor there
I did not plan to shop. However a conversation with
Balun Dashiell
led me to do so. Between the weapon vendors and spice peddlers was a narrow alley laced with the smell of incense and lit by bright neon lights. Something pulled at me here; not the Force of course. Just my instinct. And that has never failed me so far.The vendor that caught my eye was hunched behind his table, draped in mismatched rags and surrounded by cages. Not durasteel cages, but ones made from wood and wire. Old-fashioned. How quaint. His voice crackled like static as he spoke. "Looking for companionship, Miss? Something soft for a soul that’s seen too much?”
I almost laughed but did not. Instead I merely gave him a small smile. He had no idea of what I have gone through. But perhaps that could be said about every one.Then I saw it. Curled up in the lowest cage was a Tooka. Small, adorable, absurdly fluffy, and it was watching me. Not like an animal watches a stranger, however. No. This creature did not blink. It's pupils narrowed, adjusted, and then it seemed to read me. I took a step back in surprise.
“She likes you,” the vendor rasped, leaning in closely as though he were telling me a secret.
“I am only browsing,” I said to him, but my voice betrayed me. I was already calculating a few things in mind. Could I keep it hidden within my laboratories? Would it interfere with the research protocols? Would it even be allowed?
The Tooka stood and padded to the edge of the cage. Then it did something that I could not ignore. In a near-perfect imitation of my own voice - faint, glitchy, but mine - it said:
“No one ever listens" My blood went cold. Why did it say that? And in my voice, no less? I do not believe that I had uttered that phrase out loud before, yet have done so only in my thoughts. And here is a little Tooka bringing those thoughts out for others to hear. I find that highly unusual to say the least. And unnerving.
The vendor chuckled. “Some of them pick up phrases. She’s clever, this one. Empathic. Rare type. I call her Whimsy.”
“That is quite fitting.” I leaned down to look closer at the Tooka, for something about it had caught my eye. There was tech under the fluff as evident by a shimmer near the neck. Was it a scar or? No it was not a scar. It was a seam. “I will take her,” I said, against my better judgment.
The Tooka purred loudly and deliberately as the vendor took my credits and unlocked the cage.