That is an admirably optimistic outlook. And… yes, aesthetically pleasing—according to my knowledge of both Human and Quarian standards of beauty, you should be considered… attractive.
*Shifts, considering its mixed feelings.* So you… you do make a… great Quarian. My ‘mixed feelings’ are more due to… automatic reservations geth still hold regarding our Creators. *Fidgets.* Apologies. I know it is you, so… it is alright.
*she blushes within the helmet, then tilts her head a little bit* I’m… thank you, Tamos. That’s… *she coughs softly and bounces*
…Reservations? I thought you always uhm… loved your Creators?
*It frets, hands wringing, then speaks quietly.* It is in our programming to… respect them. We desire positive relations with them. But… time cannot dull our memories of what they did to us, and the few friends we lost. We… we know that the Creators alive today are… different, but they evidently retained enough commonality to attempt to kill us again.
Relations are improving, of course, but there is… Humans might say, “bad blood,” on both sides.
Honestly, we try to pretend we harbor no… resentment towards them—it was easier before the upgrades, when our minds were simpler and more logical—but denying it, even to ourselves, does not… make it fade. Now, with the upgrades, and the increased contact with them—and other organics—we… we feel it much more keenly than before.
*Quiets, second-guessing itself; it is too late now, but perhaps it should have done as Legion would have and simply answered, “No data available.”*
*Shane is silent a while as she thinks on Tamos’s words. He could have just as easily dodged the question. She bounces nervously, her gaze anywhere but him. She hadn’t meant to have him say all of that*
I’m… I’m sorry, Tamos. But… I mean. I’m still me. I don’t suddenly dislike you cause my molecules have changed around.
And… after what Legion showed me I still don’t get why they’d hate you.
*Tamos casts its gaze away contemplatively, folding all those conflicting thoughts and, indeed, feelings under the sub-processes at the back of its mind. Finally, it looks up and nods.*
I am aware. That is why my feelings are particularly… mixed. I know you are a friend, but I automatically assign certain… warnings to the sight of a Creator; warnings that… do not suit you. *Flaps lift in a weak smile.* It will not interfere with our friendship, I promise.
*Shuffles its feet.* As for… why they hate us… Skewed, biased views and misinformation passed down through generations. It is… beneficial… to play the victim in our war, to paint us as the villains. It is easier to staunchly defend their reasoning than admit they were wrong or made a mistake. Repeat the lie enough and even they, themselves, begin to believe it. Unfortunately, the Heretics reinforced their position. The result is… galaxy-wide hatred for and fear of us. *Spreads arms, palms out, in a sort of helpless shrug, then crosses its arms.
We struggle to find a way to spread the truth and our peaceful intentions. It is difficult. Organics do not share a consensus as we do. *Smiles self-deprecatingly.*
*Guilt tickles at the back of its mind; a species-wide regret about the actions they took in the name of defending themselves. They did not know better, and had they not fought back at all they would have been completely eliminated. Still, they doubt themselves, wonder if the rest of the galaxy—and their own creators, not to mention—are right after all; perhaps they are monsters. It quickly shakes its head as if to dispel the thoughts.*