Who: Euterpe and NPC What: Dream sequence Where: The couch/dreamland couch When: Evening of the 17th Warnings: Lots of [language] {switching}.
Erato's boyfriend moving in had set the condo in a state of disarray with things being brought in, taken out, set up, and moved. All it really did was made the Muse of music feel like she was eternally in the way. Now that she had an undetermined amount of time to herself in peace, she had made herself comfortable in the living room with a interesting book she had found around. She hadn't gone home, nor was she sure she wanted to step foot there without a group of people with her. Just in case.
She didn't know how long she had been sitting there reading before the fatigue set in. Euterpe had to rub her eyes several times to keep herself awake, but even that failed, and soon the book fell open in her lap as she finally drifted off into a cozy nap.
She drifted off to sleep and began to dream, but it was not a very creative dream by the looks of it. All around her was the apartment still, even her book remained, it fell to floor with a clatter and a thud. However, it did not remain there long. “Euterpe...” The voice was masculine, deep and accented as he spoke, and offered her the book. The man sat at the edge of the couch with her, his head bald, his chest bare and his brown kilt just a shade darker than his tan skin. “You dropped this...”
Euterpe opened her eyes, or, at least she felt as if she was, at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. For a moment, she half expected to see one of those tall hooded men...
However, she was greeted with a nicer sight. Completely unfitting for the area, but much nicer. "Th... Thank you," Euterpe replied in a soft tone that betrayed her slight confusion, but she reached to take the book from him.
The man tilted his head at her tone and then placed a hand over one of hers. “Shh, I am not {here to hurt you.} [You are] safe.” His voice never shifted from its gentle tone, even though his language shifted almost randomly. His light brown eyes focused on her as he offered her a smile.
Her eyes shifted from him only briefly, to glance down at his hand over hers and back. The way he talked did little to ease the confusion, but her panic was fading rather quickly, easily told by the fact her mouth quirked into the smallest hint of a smile in response to his. "Who are you?", Euterpe asked, genuinely curious of the Celtic man.
A bit too tan to be truly Celtic but he certainly appeared very comfortable in the kilt he wore. He turned her hand over in his own, running his fingers over her palm and then her wrist, tracing a scar that did not exist... where the hand had been severed. “[My name] {is unimportant right now.}. It might give you the [wrong idea.]. {How are you?} Recovered?”
Might give her the wrong idea? Lately, anything had the potential to do that. And the fact that she knew the line he traced sent a shiver up her spine. "Fairly well," she replied with a small nod. As recovered as one could be while still being afraid.
The man seemed to sniff the air and then rest her hand back to the couch. “You {don't have to be afraid} anymore. [The people who attacked you are] dead. Finally.” The last word came out with just a touch of surprise and concern about how long it had taken. And no amount of his accent in any of the three languages he shifted between hid that.
"How do you know? Who - what - were they?" There were many other questions she could have asked, but those were perhaps more important than the question already gone unanswered.
“[I do not know] what exactly they were but {I do know they are gone.}” His eyes continued to watch her and he seemed to believe fear still lingered in her muse body. In some attempt to alleviate it, he placed his hand along her cheek, “They hated {your father}. [I heard them say so].”
Her eyes shut for a moment and she took a deep breath, leaning her head slightly into the touch on her cheek. Oh yes, there was still fear. "They wanted to kill him. I still don't know why." Which wasn't surprising, Zeus probably much had more enemies than lovers, but how many of them could still be alive? "But it's my fault his house was attacked directly."
He continued to cup her face, his long slender fingers gently caressing the skin behind her one ear and any of the loose hair that fell over them. Shaking his head, he tried to offer her another comforting smile, “{No, no. It} is not your fault. [If it had not been you], they would have used another. {It is} not your fault.”
"Doesn't make me feel and less guilty." She muttered and let her head fall slightly, looking down to study the upholstery of the couch a little more without moving her head away from his hand. "I don't know what to do. I'm too scared to go home, and with Nate coming here, I'd probably just be in the way."
He frowned and lowered his eyes, trying to find the same point on the couch that had gained her attention, “[I will make you] {a deal}. I promise to help you, if you promise [to help me.]”
Slowly, she looked back up at him. "Is it going to be a deal I will end up regretting?" Paranoid much?
“{I won't hurt you.}” His hand fell from her cheek and rested on her shoulder. He seemed to sniff the air again and his frown remained across his tanned features, “[I will protect you, if you speak for me.] The young of your family are in danger.”
Euterpe nodded. "Yes, yes of course," she hastily agreed, now more concerned about the last thing he said, "But what danger could befall them?"
His countenance fell as he spoke now and at the start of his words his ears twitched, “The some of Egyptians. [They know how deeply your family] {loves the young of their blood.}. They are going to strike soon, [barter the children to the Easterners if they can...]”
The Egyptians she understood, but the Easterners? Euterpe regarded the man before her curiously yet again. "Easterners? Another Pantheon?"
“Yes and no. The Easterners will not work {with them without a tribute of youth}. [But that would just be] icing on the cake for some of the Egyptians. [They want to hurt your family and distract them...]” He let out a heavy sigh with his words, taking her hand again between his own.
Euterpe sighed, but nodded slowly in response. "Is there more I should tell them?" She asked, wishing that parts of this conversation never happened. But it was only expected that once the family was gathering, it was only a matter of time that trouble came knocking at their doorstep.
“{It will come before Chinese New Year.} [I know not when.]” The man looked up at her almost shyly as he ran his fingers along her palm once more in small circles. “Tell them that not all the Egyptians [are mad. But they must be stopped.] Please...”
She nodded again. "I will tell them. If children are threatened, they will not take it lightly." Or, at least she hoped not. Hopefully the wrath of the gods still existed, even in their reduced status.
“(We can only hope.}” He said then, though a little bit of doubt seemed to enter his voice. Still, he tried to give her a hopeful smile and leaned in and kissed her cheek, “[And I will] protect you.”
The Muse offered a light smile to the man, as best as she could offer, really. While she still did not know who he was (and doubted he would tell her if she pushed him for it again), she had little else to do but to trust him.
Her smile lifted his spirits. “I guess [I could give you some name to call me].” He sat back to look at her properly for the moment, “{One of my names is} Pitch.”
The inner workings of the gears in her head was almost, strangely, visible from the expression on her face. Then, as if a button was pushed, a look of wary realization replaced the pensive look. "Pitch? My Pitch?" Well, that could have been worded differently.
It caused him to chuckle softly as he continued to stroke her hand, running his fingers along her veins, “That is one way [of putting it].”
She ignored that comment, and watched the trails his fingers made on her skin. "Well, I guess that might explain the tags."
He nodded to her words and then took her hand to his lips. It could have been defined as a kiss, but it was closer really to a slight lick to her top of her hand like a bizarre take on the gentleman's hand kiss, “You should [probably] start to {wake up}...”
Considering she was dreaming of a human form of the dog that helped saved her life, she wasn't at all bothered by it. But, he was right. Euterpe let herself lean back against the couch as she had before. "Thank you."
“You're welcome.” The man shifted as she leaned back against the couch. He laid down along the length of it and placed his head along her belly, curled up around her legs. For a lingering moment, he remained like that... a man pressed against her.
But then, Euterpe seemed to wake up. In his place was the doberman, his head against her belly just the same and a large paw rested across her waist protectively.
It took a few moments for her to fully wake up, but when she did, the doberman recieved an affectionate scratch behind the ears. The book that was abandoned by sleep was picked up, and the page she was on was marked for later. For now, she had to figure out who to talk to first.
Summary: Euterpe falls asleep while reading a book and has a dream discussion with someone uncannily familiar, that delivers a warning.