oh my goddess

"Ah, sorry--" Isla murmurs, feeling the shiver tremor through his wing and drawing her hand back as if trying to school it into behaving itself. "It... yes, it is," she agrees, letting her arm slip through his own as she's done dozens of times before, letting him lead the way to stop her meandering so much. "It's strange. I feel like I'm missing things, but at the same time not." Suffice to say that as an Ascended the smooth calculations of a perfectly operating system had become a comforting background hum for Isla. And whilst that's gone, it's replaced with the raw chaos of taste, touch, smell - speaking of which, as they stroll further into the Climb, the medic absolutely leans in suddenly, pressing her cheek against the fabric of Sunjata's shirtsleeve and drawing in a slow breath. "You smell like cloves," she murmurs. "And oranges. It's nice." Almost belatedly she realises he's said something else, Isla nodding. "I didn't know you'd been here often enough to have a favourite place." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die