[ She holds it firm, letting him nip off a bite, before quickly drawing it to her own lips. She takes a bite, though it's purely ceremonial, before lifting it once more to return from her lips to his.

Her voice is a murmur. ]

When you cannot see, then your knowing becomes all-encompassing. For anything is possible. Everything is more beautiful... For what you cannot see, the pain is a bittersweet yearning, but you are permitted taste, and for this you are only allowed delight.

Is it not transformed?