"Last time I could feel things I spent an hour rubbing things against my face and crying!!" she defends.

Oh no that sounds adorable.

"I see. I would also be mortified if that happened." He may not be succeeding at keeping that thought from his voice. He may not be trying very hard.

"It's pretty mortifying, really." But on the other hand, if she didn't run off to turn on her ability to feel things in private, she could be touched by a person. Which sounds very nice and probably feels nicer. Especially a nice sad happens-to-be-shirtless person.

... They do have forever to figure it out, though. Or at least, a very, very long time. So there's no rush. Also, he's married. That should be a conversation of some kind before she flings herself gleefully into his arms for the delicious hedonism of physical touch. From experience, turning on physical sensations sends her ability to think rationally right out the window.

"... I'll let you know when I'm a bit more adjusted, though," she adds, a little shyly.

"I shall hold you to that." He gets up and dusts himself, at the same time as a rather dense tendril of darkness makes its way from his chest to a spiral unobtrusively rotating around her feet. "I should stop imposing, though, I'm sure you've had your fill of this old man."

She grins down at the little tendril of magic, because grinning at him seems a bit too daunting of a task right now.

"No, no. You can't be old. I'm older than you, remember? ... And besides, you're not imposing."

...leap of faith.

"If that's so, I would invite you to dinner with me tonight."

Okay she needs to adjust to having physical sensations right now. Not literally, but. Figuratively.

"I'd be delighted. Though, for the record, I haven't actually tried eating normal people food, so 'dinner' might actually just be feeding me more Black Mist instead of, you know. Food. I can probably taste it, at least."

"None of the food on the Black Isles is normal people food, for none of us are normal. It is mostly for the taste, we all subsist on Black Mist one way or another."

“Fair enough, I just didn’t want to, um. Disappoint you if it turns out I can’t eat food at all.”

"I shall temper my expectations. Should I fetch you, or do you prefer to find your way to the private dining hall? Your map should have it marked."

“Fetch me, please! Your palace is a very pretty maze.”

"As you will. I shall be at your door candlemark and a half after sundown.—ah, you will find timekeeping devices everywhere, it should be easy enough to know the time."

Giggle. "I can probably manage it, yes."

"I will see you again soon, then," he says, before bowing courteously to her (although it is a less deep and formal bow than the one the ghost offered him) and turning around to leave.

Avedra stands to return a curtsy, then sits back down to smile to herself and internally scream about how she has a date with the sad pretty king who is still married who is clearly on some kind of break or open relationship something with his amnesiac husband who he hasn't seen for the past thousand years after they accidentally killed each other, and there should still be a conversation about it but it is probably actually fine. Honestly, she wants to go find Zerin/Thresh and save him on principle, because Viego is obviously still so sad and the whole thing is very tragic and also Zerin/Thresh is probably going to try to start an invasion of neighboring islands again so, uh, no. Also, it would be bad form to just leave her love interest's former partner to suffer in looping torment while she cavorted off with his husband, that seems like it would be fighting dirty. Proverbially.

She should not use the limited time before her date (!) plotting a way to save her date's once-husband. That is an inefficient use of one's time, clearly she needs more resources and information to pull it off anyway, not to mention more time than 'from now until a candlemark and a half after sundown.'

Instead she's going to, um. Go back to her room and. Probably turn her ability to feel things with her body back on. She can do this without immediately breaking down crying and touching every soft thing within reach, ri—?

—nope, nope, that was literally never going to happen, it was silly of her to think so. Everything feels so nice, it's so nice to feel like she's breathing again, she has weight and fingers and can touch things and there's a soft bed that is all hers that she can flop into and wriggle under the silken sheets and sob at how beautiful physical sensations are and the pain of how much she missed them and, and, and.

She keeps half an eye on the time but yep she's absolutely going to be rubbing every single thing in this room on her face and crying for most of the interim until date.

And right on time, there is a knock on her door that somehow manages to sound polite.

By this point in time, she's made herself presentable! By turning down her feelings. They're a lot, okay, and while turning them off completely would feel a bit like she's dying (again), turning them down a little through a careful balance of magical skill nicely threads the needle between 'feeling like she's dying again' and 'overwhelming.' To the point where she probably won't immediately embarrass herself by wandering off to rub her face against a tablecloth or something.

When she opens the door she's looking significantly more happy, though.

"Hi!" she says, all bright happy smiles and just a little bit of bouncing.

"Hello," he says, eyeing her with some amusement.

Also he's no longer shirtless. Technically. He's wearing a fancy doublet that's held tight against his skin, except it has a hole cut open aligned with the hole on his chest. Or not exactly cut open; it looks like the doublet was designed with the hole in mind, and incorporates it into the design. His trousers and shoes are similarly nicely appointed, but of a more subdued make, as the top is clearly the centerpiece of the outfit.

He offers her a hand, very gentlemanly.

(Nooooo he put the abs away!! A tragedy!!)

She gingerly takes the offered hand, smiling a little shyly and immediately rubbing little circles onto it with a thumb. Touch!! Physical sensation!! Wonderful things!!!!

"So I have turned back on my sense of touch, if a little, um. Dulled right now? It's a lot, I was worried I'd immediately embarrass myself if I didn't turn it down a little."

"Very sensible of you." He guides her hand to his arm and then, after making sure to shut the door, starts towards presumably the dining room.

Eeeeeeee yes okay she can happily be on his arm, that seems like a good place to be. (She totally wants to rub his hand on her face. Or her arm on his face. Damn it, she thought she got this out of her system!)

"I try to be!"

Probably she should say things but actually touching his arm is pretty great even with dulled senses, so. She's mostly just nestling happily against him about that.

He's perfectly content to lead them in silence past a couple of hallways down a set of stairs two more hallways and into a room.

It's... probably a "private dining hall" only in a relative sense; it was clearly designed to accommodate a party of at least twenty people. Probably a relic of a bygone age when entertaining dignitaries from abroad was a thing that ever happened.

The long table in the center of the room is set for two, though, with a small tablecloth right in the middle and two chairs opposite each other. Across the room from them is another door, with a spirit in the shape of a human of indeterminate gender except they lack a lower body and instead their long shirt trails off while they float in place.

"Hello!" she says brightly, to the spirit. It's only polite to acknowledge them, after all.

A giant room being used for a date for two people is kind of cute, in a formal sort of way. She immediately wants to steal him away to a garden for a picnic, but yes, fine, she won't ruin his planned evening. Yet. Nonetheless, the place is very pretty, even if it feels far too big and formal for them.

The ghost bows and disappears into the door.

"Apologies for the sumptuousness. The only rooms smaller than this in the palace are personal chambers."