The Muse.......next line.
The woman had an ethereal look about her, something that seemed to attract the blond man who watched her as she wandered aimlessly from one place to another.
The young man was watching her - she could feel her skin cool where his blue eyes fell on her and, turning her own eyes to him, saw him fade in the sunlight.
"We need him," the voice in her head whispered, "bring him to us...".
The woman held out her hand and beckoned for the young man to come to her.
She was transparent in the blinding sunlight - it seemed to shine from her - and as he moved towards her, she began to come into focus and solidify into flesh.
His blue eyes fixed on the beckoning wave of her fingers, from which countless manicures had erased any stain. He raised his eyes to hers, and she knew that he knew.
A diffident smile softened his features, but the steel beneath was unforgiving.
"I am not the one you seek, Calliope is not my mother", his words betraying the muse's mission.
"You are, and will be, more than you know," she replied, the words reaching his mind despite no sound leaving her mouth.
The blond shook his head; how could this be...was he losing his mind; NO, he would fight her mental telepathy, drugs or whatever, it did not matter as he would resist it down to his very soul.
"Illya! Wake up or we're going to be late for our meeting with Mr. Waverly."
But in the fading of the dream Illya seemed to hear a voice. "Not Calliope, but Melpomene"
The young man was watching her - she could feel her skin cool where his blue eyes fell on her and, turning her own eyes to him, saw him fade in the sunlight.
"We need him," the voice in her head whispered, "bring him to us...".
The woman held out her hand and beckoned for the young man to come to her.
She was transparent in the blinding sunlight - it seemed to shine from her - and as he moved towards her, she began to come into focus and solidify into flesh.
His blue eyes fixed on the beckoning wave of her fingers, from which countless manicures had erased any stain. He raised his eyes to hers, and she knew that he knew.
A diffident smile softened his features, but the steel beneath was unforgiving.
"I am not the one you seek, Calliope is not my mother", his words betraying the muse's mission.
"You are, and will be, more than you know," she replied, the words reaching his mind despite no sound leaving her mouth.
The blond shook his head; how could this be...was he losing his mind; NO, he would fight her mental telepathy, drugs or whatever, it did not matter as he would resist it down to his very soul.
"Illya! Wake up or we're going to be late for our meeting with Mr. Waverly."
But in the fading of the dream Illya seemed to hear a voice. "Not Calliope, but Melpomene"