Timeworn Wayfarer Lore:
Rest easy.
It wasn’t Commander Zavala’s favorite color, but the yarn was soft and made quick, even stitches as he clacked the knitting needles together.
k to marker, k1p1 rib, m1r, k, m1l, p1k1 rib, k to marker.
It had been some time since he had worked this pattern, long enough for the muscle memory to fade. Zavala had to concentrate until it could settle into his mind again. He squinted at the line of written direction. Raglan increases. Did he measure the gauge correctly? The ease may be too slack. The neckline looked worryingly wide.
His thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched, mechanical chirp and a flash of white light at the corner of his eye.
Zavala furrowed his brow. The console at his side flashed again and emitted a string of data.
He hesitated for a moment but didn’t put his knitting down.
“Ikora?” he called. The Warlock appeared on the holoprojector in a burst of visual noise.
“Zavala,” Ikora said warmly. “I see you’ve picked up your project again.”
“Indeed. I’ve just received an alert from Nessus—”
“Saint and Failsafe are handling it.”
“Failsafe?”
“Failsafe.”
The Vanguard Commander nervously coiled the strand of yarn around his forefinger. It went taut, pulled thin by the gesture. But then he loosened it, relaxing his grip on the needles.
“Then I’ll leave it in their capable hands. Or processor, as the case may be.”
“Good.”
Ikora’s tone was chiding, but she smiled in the static. Zavala nodded.
“Keep me updated,” Ikora continued.
“On what?” Zavala asked. The Warlock nodded to the knitting.
“The status of my sweater.”
Zavala smiled. The hologram faded into air and silence. Zavala slid the working needle between his fingers and rested it against a callused knuckle.
k to marker, k1p1 rib, m1r, k, m1l, p1k1 rib, k to marker. He let the pattern fill his thoughts again. Ikora would love this color.
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