feet slap against the wooden floor, metallic echoing just slightly in the mostly empty bar, the young girl an amalgamation of machine and flesh; legs replaced long ago, along with her right arm, her eyes, her throat - little skin that remains is scarred, fragile. despite this, the girl is in an upbeat mood; she has lost most, but her heart remains, beat, beat, beating in her chest, a sign that she is alive, that she is human still.
for now.
❝vander! i made you something! a gift!❞ her voice crackles, pitch shifting wildly (she is still getting used to controlling the mechanism that is now her voice box) as she crawls into a chair and present him a small figure wrapped in oil-stained paper.