Isla
For Isla, at least, the reaction unfolds entirely as expected, and there's something mildly comforting in that, despite Ever trying and failing to recalibrate his mind right in front of her. As his fingers flinch more tightly around her own he responds in kind, both an anchor and a drowning person reaching for another presence in a suddenly vast and open ocean. "They occur in less than one percent of cases. I checked," she says softly - because of course she did. "So whilst it isn't impossible that this is a false positive, combined with my symptoms, it's vanishingly unlikely."
Nibbling at the inside of her cheek, one of her hands leaves Ever's to rest atop his knee, as if to create another physical point of contact in the hope of keeping them both grounded. "I know it's a lot," she whispers. "And it's okay to feel any kind of way about it - even if you can't name the feeling. I know I can't, right now. I... I'm doing my best to stay calm, but it would be helpful to know what you think."
Nibbling at the inside of her cheek, one of her hands leaves Ever's to rest atop his knee, as if to create another physical point of contact in the hope of keeping them both grounded. "I know it's a lot," she whispers. "And it's okay to feel any kind of way about it - even if you can't name the feeling. I know I can't, right now. I... I'm doing my best to stay calm, but it would be helpful to know what you think."
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
