"Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou, who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free;

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!"

(Dheto has entered the room.)

But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may."

(Lacking DZ's memory, she actually had to silently rehearse this favorite poem of hers a couple times with a wall interface before reciting it aloud; and even then, she only trusts herself with three of its seven stanzas.)

And in the light of truth thy vassal let me live!"

[source]

    "That's not how it works, she says. You don't stop being weak by letting someone tell you what to do; the weakness is still there, even if it matters less."

DZ stops speaking, but continues signing, for a few moments, and Deskyl nods and gestures for her to go ahead and talk. "And - I don't think she's precisely right, but she's not wrong. I've learned a lot from serving Deskyl, and I'm more capable than I would be without her, but I'm strong because of the times she hasn't told me what to do, when she's needed me to figure out myself how to do things to serve her."

"Indeed. The weakness is still there."

Dheto fixes breakfast for herself.

    "It doesn't have to be."

She waves her artificial arm over the stovetop--elbow loose, fingers splayed--and contemplates it ruefully.

"Do you think I ought to be strong and free?"

    "She thinks you shouldn't think of weakness as inevitable."

Every time the droid finishes translating one of the sith's sentences, Dheto considers not responding.

It isn't her job to. She doesn't have any particular idea what Ladriel would want out of this situation and that ought to make her indifferent.

But each time, she finds herself speaking up nonetheless.

"I don't. It isn't. I've been 'strong' before and it did not suit me."

    "How so?"

It isn’t a story she enjoys telling, and she’s not sure any particular good comes from sharing it here.

She should just not.

Eating. Yes. That is ostensibly what this room is for.

”I’m sorry for butting in, earlier. I, uh... I like poems.”

"Mmhmm," Deskyl hums, a little smugly.

    "It's good that you haven't completely lost yourself, at least, she says."

That pretty hmm, those chiding words, the blunt self-certainly of it all; it doesn’t rub Dheto the wrong way, no, it rubs her almost the right way which is somehow even more uncomfortable.

She misses Ladriel.

”I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the degree...”

    "Life has loveliness to sell,
     All beautiful and splendid things,
Dark waves lightened on a cliff,
     Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
     Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of green plants growing fresh,
     Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
     Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
     Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be."

[source]

Yeah, good. - hug, Devika?

Hug.

In her whole life, she's never had opportunity to witness anything more 'lovely' than a SLAYER's desolate battlefield.

The truth of her history is a dull grey cell. She's never known ecstasy. She's never known love. The only children's faces she's ever seen were ones floating in amniotic vats.

    "You don't have to go back, she says. Or not to what you were doing before, even if you don't want to stay here. You have choices."

She reaches back behind her head and touches a couple fingers to the implant between her shoulder blades.

"There's only one thing I'm particularly good at."

Hug hug hug.

    "You can learn."

(Dheto cleans up after herself.)

As Deskyl speaks of learning new things, Devika's thoughts linger on the facility where she received instruction in her first trade.

"It's a nice thought. Please tell me about my future again, sometime, after we've ground my past down to rubble."

   "All right."

"Thank you."

    "Any time."

    "Artha? Deskyl would like to know what would happen to Devika, if she decided to stay in the Draco Territories."