"Can you ever forgive me?" Alaema whispered, sniffling wetly into Mericlou's ear.
"Only if you'll forgive me," Mericlou said. "I have to admit, I haven't exactly been a peach to you lately either." She tightened the embrace and Alaema reciprocated. She then smiled, knowing in the ensuing silence between them, that the tears that flowed were now not those of grief, but of joy and satisfaction.
***
Alaema returned to her room satisfied that she had made peace with her sister. It took a great leap of humility, but in the end, through the time of soul-searching and tears, she was forced to admit that she should not have gone so far with taunting her. The poor thing … she was so shy with men, after all, and so full of anger over humans. They were not all bad, of course. Skori and Sedriil did not seem to mind them, after all. And even as bad as the brothel was, many of the encounters she had had with humans, the ones who treated her gently, could actually be quite nice.
But even this incident had not destroyed her intense android curiosity. Now, more than ever, she wished to find out all that she could about this elf that Meri was so keenly involved with. Only this time, there would be no taunts, no accusations. She would find the cold, hard facts. She so wanted to know about her relationship with this mystery elf, and if there was any kind of mutual interest, then maybe she could push it in the right direction.
There were only a few manual labor assignments and light construction jobs on the list for tomorrow, and her brothers could handle those quite easily. And so she decided to help her sister on her first day in the garden.
She took a cordial cherry from its secret hiding place in her nightstand, and ate it. Closing her eyes, she savored its smooth texture and sweet flavor in her mouth … the sensations of the crisp, sweet shell of chocolate breaking, followed by the delectable liquid cream and cherry as they slid down her throat. She felt a heat well up from inside the core of her being, and then opened her eyes, keenly aware of the tingle that flooded across her skin. The feeling these candies produced was so much like sex … albeit a pale reflection of the actual thing.
She sighed. If only reprogramming had not been so risky … She was growing weary of her brothers violating her two to three times a week to replace those damned memory buffers.