Five. Just the five senses. How did these creatures function? Sabra had to adapt to them, no matter how relatively limiting. The reason for why she was so intent on sniffing. That was the only way she could...
Scent. Yes, scent. An impulse. An instinct. A reaction, even. Sabra understood things differently and now had to modify accordingly. It was like a human being who suddenly had to figure out they needed to play a specific tune on a mixture of harp and accordion, in just the right combination, simply in order to move their head.
So, yes, even the act of smelling was... Interpreted differently. Existence, itself, was a form of, if not trial, then at least a puzzle.
"Sham... Poo," Sabra repeated, testing the phrase. Then the same with 'conditioner'. Practically inviting the girl to give her a crash course in pronunciation, because the brunette or, at least, whatever now controlled her like a flesh-suit, seemingly found the terminology alien. A couple of attempts and she mostly had it down, even if the explanation as to their purpose might not yet be completely within the creature's mental grasp.
A look down, eyes trailing in studious fashion to feet. "Your... Huuu-man hair is not... Only on hhhhhead," Sabra offered. Anatomically, perfectly correct, but who advertised for the pubic hair care? Testament, if ever there was, that this being still had no proper clue about the delicacies of social interaction. "If you clothe it... It must not be shiny."
Talk about an awkward moment. One which was, however, swiftly alleviated by Sabra's own sudden disinterest in pursuing the matter further. Looking away, back down the alley. Pondering. Even time moved differently here.
"I want to be... A different place," she worded, starting to walk without even asking permission, much less for direction. Simply... Setting off. "Tell me one. Tell me where. How to."
no subject
Scent. Yes, scent. An impulse. An instinct. A reaction, even. Sabra understood things differently and now had to modify accordingly. It was like a human being who suddenly had to figure out they needed to play a specific tune on a mixture of harp and accordion, in just the right combination, simply in order to move their head.
So, yes, even the act of smelling was... Interpreted differently. Existence, itself, was a form of, if not trial, then at least a puzzle.
"Sham... Poo," Sabra repeated, testing the phrase. Then the same with 'conditioner'. Practically inviting the girl to give her a crash course in pronunciation, because the brunette or, at least, whatever now controlled her like a flesh-suit, seemingly found the terminology alien. A couple of attempts and she mostly had it down, even if the explanation as to their purpose might not yet be completely within the creature's mental grasp.
A look down, eyes trailing in studious fashion to feet. "Your... Huuu-man hair is not... Only on hhhhhead," Sabra offered. Anatomically, perfectly correct, but who advertised for the pubic hair care? Testament, if ever there was, that this being still had no proper clue about the delicacies of social interaction. "If you clothe it... It must not be shiny."
Talk about an awkward moment. One which was, however, swiftly alleviated by Sabra's own sudden disinterest in pursuing the matter further. Looking away, back down the alley. Pondering. Even time moved differently here.
"I want to be... A different place," she worded, starting to walk without even asking permission, much less for direction. Simply... Setting off. "Tell me one. Tell me where. How to."