Work Text:
“I'm Nimona,” she said resolutely. Always that same question. Why did people care so much about what she was?
“Not what I– Who are you?”
Nimona opened her mouth, but Ballister continued. “Not your name, kid. Tell me about yourself.” He sounded genuine in a way no one had done before.
She looked at him defiantly. He gently met her gaze until she gave in and sat down.
For the very first time she told him everything: all her sorrow, her love, her hardship and survival.
“So yeah.” She shrugged. Ballister raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“I'm Nimona,” she concluded proudly.