Whee...drabble number four!
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The shell's memories leaked into her neural pathways like a faulty petrol tank. She remembered squatting in that damp, filthy cave in Pylea, and the smell of fresh tacos. Illyria shook her head, drawing the suspicious glance of a Wolfram and Hart employee. She had never been in a cave in Pylea, and she had certainly never relished the odour of these objects called tacos. She could not understand why it was that Wesley mourned the shell, why his anger and hurt grew until it threatened to swallow her whenever she wore the Burkle persona. People died and were born every day in this hideous world. The shell's body was rotted through, Illyria's birth should have been something to be celebrated and welcomed. Instead she was shunned, turned away even by the body she wore.
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Not quite sure who to do next...possibly Eve or Lorne.