Gosh she likes him a lot.

You know - I've gone back and forth on whether I want to do it, but I think - especially with the robot - I should be able to let you talk and move through me. Directly, I mean, not just passing messages and giving directions. Similarly to how I let my danger sense move me.

A stunned pause, and then a flash of conflicted emotion, including a long supressed resentment, covered over with determined acceptance. Then, after a moment of silence, ...I cannot claim to have never wondered what it would be like to have a form beyond this Blade, to be able to experience the world as my wielders do. I had long accepted it to be impossible... he trails off, uncertain how to continue. 

After a moment, he offers her his feelings on the matter: gratitude-shock-fear-curiosity-expectationofdisappointment-selfrecrimination-worry-longhiddendesire.

This would never be possible for a mana bond, made with our magic, he adds, It was always an impossible dream. 

I worry about my desire for it. When I was newly-made, I might have made foolish demands, and deprived myself of the possibility. Now all I can offer is... I would love nothing more than to interact with the world through you, so long as it would not harm you to allow me to do so. 

It won't hurt me. You could startle me, do something I wouldn't have allowed, but I don't think you will - I don't think you'll want to - and I can take back control any time.

He is still processing this concept to some extent. Mostly, he is relieved she would retain the control to push him out. It does make sense that she would, he realises. 

Part of him is... no, he's not disappointed by it. He would not want to take a form belonging to another, especially not her. He's just wistful, for something beyond his reach.

His true, deepest desire, not diluted by what is possible or repressed by the reality of his situation, is to have his own body. To be an elf, preferably, in more than just soul. Perhaps a body like his creator's. He does not want her body. He wants her to have full control of of her body, and to be able to meet and speak with her as an autonomous person with his own agency. 

No, I would not do anything with your body which you would rather I not, he agrees. No matter if I was the one in control, it would still be your body. 

It would, she affirms. That's one thing I'm fairly sure even Sith can't do, to steal a Force-sensitive's body and leave it alive.

For the other - that I definitely can't promise. But maybe when we find the dwarves I can explain cloning to them.

Good, he says, of her first statement.

Cloning? He asks. 

Simulating a pregnancy with technology, based on the - blood, more or less - of some donor or donors. There's a way to do it where no mind develops in the body, but I'm not sure how hard it is.

And, perhaps, a way to place the mind of an Artefact within instead, he muses. 

The dwarves may be willing to aid us with a project like that, he agrees. I knew of one being, during the rebellion, who was skilled in the making of Automatons, and had plans to experiment with whether they could be made to hold Artefacts and allow us some autonomy. I don't know what became of them, however. 

Something for the to-do list, she nods. I don't actually know much about cloning, but a lot of the time even just knowing for sure that something is possible is enough to make it happen.

Agreement, Enough to give hope, as well, he sends, along with a tangled conflict of hope and reserve. He worries about letting himself hope too much. 

You're going to live forever, love. Even if it's not in my lifetime, someone will eventually figure it out.

Slightly bashful, surprised pleasure at the fond epithet, followed by fondness of his own, and less cautious hope.

Yes, that is so. 

Though the idea that she might not live to see it happen is a sad one. 

Aw. She pats the sword. I expect to have a pretty good run. It's a little sad for her, too, but she's well aware of how much more privileged she is than most people, and much more grateful for what she does have than regretful for what she won't.

Acknowledgement, and agreement, We shall do our best to see you live it to the fullest. Perhaps my age extension will combine with yours to give you even longer.

Would be nice.

Do you want to try moving my body now? I'm not sure if the simplest way will work - if it doesn't, there are other things I can try, but not until I'm recovered - but it might.

Excitement-curiosity-concern, So long as it will not cause you any trouble, I would be more than willing to try. He pauses, I feel I must mention - I have no idea how I will react to this. I expect it may be quite overwhelming, however. You may have to take back control quite quickly. 

Mmhmm. She sends the memory of a hug, old and long-cherished. Giving you control will be something I'm actively doing, at first - I'll get in the habit with time if we do this much - so you don't need to worry about pushing too far at all.

Let me tell the robot what we're up to - she does that, clicking her tongue softly to get her attention. Okay, ready when you are. Her focus shifts, and a new set of possibilities comes to his awareness.

He sort of... curls up, in the sensation of the hug. He's had mental hugs before, but they've been few and far between. 

 Then - 

- !

This is even more overwhelming than the telepathy had been, at the beginning when she'd first attached him to it. He doesn't even know where to begin. 

He can feel things, though. The surface her body sits on, the warmth of the air. The movement of it, expanding her lungs. Even the senses he has had access to are so much more present than they ever have been. 

It takes him some time to attempt to move, but eventually he does try twitching one of her fingers. 

...Well, he sends her, wry over the wonder, I can't move.

Ah well. It was worth the try. I'm sure I can fix it later.

She stays withdrawn, leaving him in control.

Then he'll continue to marvel, for a while, along with occasional attempts to move - none successful, but then it hardly registers as disappointing, given. 

Eventually, however, ...Were you not going to go out to collect that woman's body today? He asks. He is looking out the window at the dusky sky, having figured out the eyes, at least, and been entranced by its beauty. The colours seem brighter, like this.

Definitely not going to interrupt the sunset for that, she sends idly, similarly entranced.

That was going to be my name - dusk, or sunset, one or the other is namey in most languages. When I killed my master and earned the right to change it.

A good choice, he sends with slightly absent affection. A greater amount of his attention has moved to the feeling of a hair brushing against her face. It's interesting, though he expects it could get irritating over time. He tries blowing it out of the way, but only manages to stir it slightly. 

Setting the sensation aside, he turns his attention back to the sunset. It's turned more purple since he was last paying attention. Watching the colours continue to shift, he sends some mild curiosity her way, You earn your names when you kill your masters? 

When we earn a title above apprentice, yeah. There's a few ways to do it. None I can really do while I'm cut off, though.