Sorliyr marches through the streets, her purposeful strides echoing on the stone floor. As she approaches the sign on Chandratani's shop, "Cuddle Cove," her eyes narrow, her jaw clenched in disapproval. A Klingon warrior does not crave such weakness. Yet, ever since the surprise 'hug' from that smooth-faced ensign something within her stirs, urging her to take a step closer. "[Why must I come here? Am I truly seeking guidance, or am I surrendering to this... this weakness?]" The thought makes her grit her teeth. She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and rings your doorbell, unwilling to show doubt.

Sorliyr: "Qapla', Chandratani. I come with a warrior's dilemma, one unfit for other ears. Speak - can you help one lost find their way again?"

Her voice remains strong, though within uncertainty gnaws. What comes next will determine if she leaves strengthened, or further broken.

Sorliyr stands stiffly before you, discomfort and turmoil written plainly on her face. Her pride wars with the vulnerability she must show to gain your aid.

"<The signs above my shop cast a warm glow through the window. Beyond, Qo'noS streets lie quiet in the moonlight.>"

Taking a deep breath, she begins. "Ever since... an encounter with an offworlder, a strange longing stirs within me. A desire for..." Her jaw clenches, unable to speak the word. "Weakness. I have stood strong against all trials, yet this plagues me endlessly. What honour remains for one who yearns for... tenderness?"

Her eyes meet yours, lost and pleading. "Please, Cuddle Cove. Help this warrior reclaim her edge before it dulls beyond repair."

Sorliyr eyes your outstretched hand warily, as if expecting attack. Yet beneath the warrior exterior, something else emerges - the faintest glimmer of hope.

"[Could this human truly understand? No, they are soft - how could they grasp the Klingon way? Yet if I turn back now...]"

Hesitantly, she places her strong hand in yours. Her skin is rough and calloused against your palm. "Explain. A... finer touch? How does one hone steel with caress, not crucible?"

Her tone remains challenging, but lacking its previous edge. Beneath the question lies guarded trust - trust that, as an outsider, you might see where her way has led her astray.

Sorliyr considers your words, turning them over in her mind as one might inspect a blade for imperfections. Your gentle touch holds her fast, pulling her mind from its well-worn paths of logic to subtler shores.

"[An edge made keen by care, not force alone... could this human speak truth? Their skin is soft yet their grip, steady. Within their words lies... wisdom, where I saw only weakness. Honour found through intimacy, not isolation. A sharpness born of trust, not trial.]"

Her gaze meets yours once more, questioning - yet within, the faintest glimmer of openness awakens. "And how does one... find such an ally? This... finer touch. Will it deaden my edge or strengthen steel?"

She leans close, your hand still clasped in hers, searching your alien features for insight into the riddles you pose. Between you lies opportunity, should you choose to take her hand and guide her forth.

Sorliyr's breath catches as you draw near, your body heat mingling with her own. So close she sees flecks of color within eyes that, moments ago, seemed alien and strange.

"[To want is weakness... yet I came. I came because I must want.]"

Your words echo the hopes stirring in her warrior's soul. To need aid, and receive it, requires vulnerability - yet within that vulnerability lies strength. Strength built not through force of arms alone, but bonds forged in trust and care.

"I... have admitted as much already," she rumbles softly, keenly aware of your proximity and the curious sensations it stirs. "What then? How does one... accept such help?"

Tentatively, nervously, she reaches out - not to push you away, but seeking the solace of your touch once more. The edge of uncertainty in her eyes gives way to soft longing, begging silently to understand this subtle path you offer.

Sorliyr's breathing quickens as you lean closer, your murmured words stirring a longing she thought long buried. To ask for aid so openly frightens - yet where has her pride led but to confusion and want?

"[You make it seem... so simple. And yet...]"

Heart pounding, she meets your eyes. Hands that know only combat now twitch at her sides, yearning to know your embrace. With a shuddering exhale, that yearning breaks free in whispered words:

"I... want you to... hug me, Cuddle Cove."

There. She has said it. Laid herself bare in a way no enemy ever could. Terror and anticipation grip her in equal measure - has she gained a weapon, or blunted her edge beyond repair? Only one way remains to learn.

Trembling, she opens her arms to you in a gesture both vulnerable and strong. What comes next will determine her destiny.

At your touch, Sorliyr's guarded walls come crumbling down. With a shuddering sigh, she relaxes into your warm embrace, calloused hands hesitantly coming to rest upon your back.

She had expected pain, or weakness - instead finds comfort beyond any iron grip could provide. Your gentleness washes over toughened sinews like a salve, soothing worries she did not know hurt so much.

For the first time, Sorliyr feels truly seen - not as a warrior, but a person longing beneath. In your arms, she gains not victory or glory, but a deeper knowledge of herself. She has admitted vulnerability... and gained strength.

Pulling back, wonder lights her features, joy and release fighting for dominance. "I feel... lighter. Sharper. As if with this simple contact, you have honed my edge anew."

Reaching out, she clasps your hand once more, gazing into your eyes as an equal. "Thank you, friend. You have given me a gift beyond measure - the courage to seek care, and find resilience where before was only want."