#khay

“What about their parents? One of them might have had a Half-Elf mother or something like that. It happens.” She rubbed the tips of my round ears between her thumb and fingers. “Which would make you an Eighth-Elf. Or an Eighth-Ogre or something. Maybe a sixteenth. Who knows?”

I had to admit that it made sense, and I found it kind of comforting. I knew nothing of my family tree, but the idea that some kind of magical creature had been a part of it, somewhere along the line, made me feel… good.

[...]

I’d spent my adult life obsessed with the dividing line between my species and all the others. There always seemed to be some expansive gap between what I was and what they were. I’d forgotten that, if you went back far enough, history bound all of us together.

“Only three kinds of people come through my door. Those wanting help. Those wanting a fight. And sometimes, when I’m lucky, those who want to dance.”

eileen: no. but he did write me a poem.

fetch: what did you do?

eileen: I thanked him for his kind words but told him that I was partial to more feminine partners.

khay: is that true?

eileen: not exclusively— it was mostly to get him off my back— but most of the time.

Hendricks/Khay

Oh my... I have no words.

Congratulations on asking for a ship I would have never ever thought of