#72 - The Heart That Fed (A:tS/PotC)
title: The Heart That Fed
word count: 200
fandom: PotC: AWE
challenge: #72 - forgotten and remembered
summary: Illyria meets with a kindred spirit.
disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
notes: Title is from Shelley's Ozymandias.
Illyria had long suspected that others of her kind might also have escaped the Deeper Well. If the Wolf, Ram, and Hart could arrange the release of one as powerful and notorious as she, then the lesser authorities of forgotten ages would have posed no difficulty.
She'd dismissed such possibilities with a curled lip and expectations of battle. Never had she imagined that her own situation-- the stench of humanity anchoring her ancient spirit-- could be anything other than unique.
"T'was torture," the sea-goddess said, leaning against the ship's railing. "Trapped in a single form. Cut off from all that I loved. And when at last I was freed--" She turned dark eyes to the masculine figure at the ship's wheel.
"Your Qwa'ha Xahn was lost," Illyria commented. "Yet-- you took another."
"Aye," Calypso replied, possessively. "Him loved another, then; but she died ashore, long ago, and now there is only me."
Illyria thought then of the halfbreed, the one she called pet, currently in Europe.
He was not Wesley. But he was immortal, as his Slayer was not-- and in time, those gone to dust would be forgotten. Perhaps her future was not so bleak as it seemed.
-x-
word count: 200
fandom: PotC: AWE
challenge: #72 - forgotten and remembered
summary: Illyria meets with a kindred spirit.
disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
notes: Title is from Shelley's Ozymandias.
Illyria had long suspected that others of her kind might also have escaped the Deeper Well. If the Wolf, Ram, and Hart could arrange the release of one as powerful and notorious as she, then the lesser authorities of forgotten ages would have posed no difficulty.
She'd dismissed such possibilities with a curled lip and expectations of battle. Never had she imagined that her own situation-- the stench of humanity anchoring her ancient spirit-- could be anything other than unique.
"T'was torture," the sea-goddess said, leaning against the ship's railing. "Trapped in a single form. Cut off from all that I loved. And when at last I was freed--" She turned dark eyes to the masculine figure at the ship's wheel.
"Your Qwa'ha Xahn was lost," Illyria commented. "Yet-- you took another."
"Aye," Calypso replied, possessively. "Him loved another, then; but she died ashore, long ago, and now there is only me."
Illyria thought then of the halfbreed, the one she called pet, currently in Europe.
He was not Wesley. But he was immortal, as his Slayer was not-- and in time, those gone to dust would be forgotten. Perhaps her future was not so bleak as it seemed.
-x-