1. She wakes up with only the vaguest sense that something is wrong. Different. But that feeling quickly passes, as it always does, as Dolores sits up and stretches with a content sigh. She does love mornings, and goes to the window in the small room to gaze out.
It's not fields, nor the skyline of a futuristic city, but endless water glittering in the sunlight. She smiles. But she never should stand about for too long pondering what lies beyond, she has a whole day ahead. Each new one offers new opportunity, people to meet.
After dressing in her signature cornflower blue, Dolores delicately picks up the letter, reads the words, and yet... somehow doesn't fully grasp the meaning. Her programming filters out those sorts of unpleasant truths about the nature of the world. A captain? How prestigious. What she does grasp is the compulsion to attend the muster drill, doesn't even particularly notice that it's not of her own free will. That'd be a silly thing for an android to have, wouldn't it?
The men performing it are strange, quite unlike anything she's ever seen, and yet she smiles politely and accepts the lei. Though she does protest the whole dip and kiss attempt. Her heart is already spoken for, if only he'd return. Longing sigh toward the horizon.
"My father will be quite worried, if I don't return to the farm by dusk..." Dolores speaks to whoever is near, a prompt she's spoken hundreds of times before.
3. It's the aroma of sweet citrus that draws Dolores in, honestly. The old west is full of all sorts of unpleasant smells. It reminds her at first a bit of passing by the saloon where the working ladies try to cover up with heavily scented perfumes, but without the underlying notes of sex and sweat and alcohol. She sniffs again curiously, maybe that is alcohol.
She's never seen such a variety of clothing in her life, and she inspects some of the patterned shirts on display by the entrance with a quiet sort of fascination. "Everything is so colorful," Dolores comments, fabric between her fingers. "They must be imported, how exotic."
?. (wildcard. catch Dolores at the piano playing out some strange rendition of Black Hole Sun or strolling along the promenade looking quite lost... where's all the bar fights?)
Dolores Abernathy | Westworld
She wakes up with only the vaguest sense that something is wrong. Different. But that feeling quickly passes, as it always does, as Dolores sits up and stretches with a content sigh. She does love mornings, and goes to the window in the small room to gaze out.
It's not fields, nor the skyline of a futuristic city, but endless water glittering in the sunlight. She smiles. But she never should stand about for too long pondering what lies beyond, she has a whole day ahead. Each new one offers new opportunity, people to meet.
After dressing in her signature cornflower blue, Dolores delicately picks up the letter, reads the words, and yet... somehow doesn't fully grasp the meaning. Her programming filters out those sorts of unpleasant truths about the nature of the world. A captain? How prestigious. What she does grasp is the compulsion to attend the muster drill, doesn't even particularly notice that it's not of her own free will. That'd be a silly thing for an android to have, wouldn't it?
The men performing it are strange, quite unlike anything she's ever seen, and yet she smiles politely and accepts the lei. Though she does protest the whole dip and kiss attempt. Her heart is already spoken for, if only he'd return. Longing sigh toward the horizon.
"My father will be quite worried, if I don't return to the farm by dusk..." Dolores speaks to whoever is near, a prompt she's spoken hundreds of times before.
3.
It's the aroma of sweet citrus that draws Dolores in, honestly. The old west is full of all sorts of unpleasant smells. It reminds her at first a bit of passing by the saloon where the working ladies try to cover up with heavily scented perfumes, but without the underlying notes of sex and sweat and alcohol. She sniffs again curiously, maybe that is alcohol.
She's never seen such a variety of clothing in her life, and she inspects some of the patterned shirts on display by the entrance with a quiet sort of fascination. "Everything is so colorful," Dolores comments, fabric between her fingers. "They must be imported, how exotic."
?. (wildcard. catch Dolores at the piano playing out some strange rendition of Black Hole Sun or strolling along the promenade looking quite lost... where's all the bar fights?)