The woman who was Dreyfus' mother, at least, seemed to be one part of her watched him walk away and then return, watched him drink, though he did not need to anymore than she did. They, both of them, were beyond such things, now.
Her bright eyes followed him but she was listening more than seeing, really listening. She looked young, and, indeed, she had been young, physically, when she died, but her eyes were not. When he finished speaking she looked down at the lovely table set with the china and silver that were no more, broken or stolen in the reality that waited outside the perfect recreation. When she looked up again her eyes steely, sold, the sort of eyes that could battle covens without flinching.
"When you came here, when we saw that you weren't really alive anymore, but not really dead either, I thought..." Her eyes went far away again, seeing the dream of her family together, able to know each other, but it faded even as the room around them began to fade. "But no. You aren't done with your life. When you gave it away it wasn't so you could reunite with us."
She stood, and as she did so her dress became a Reconciliator's uniform, black, severe, precise.
"I leave this place to you then, until you are ready." Stepping close her cool hand touched his face one more time.
"It isn't like time has any meaning to us anymore. We'll wait for you and come greet you when it's time."
A flicker of a smile that looked strikingly similar to Dreyfus' own flashed, almost playfully, across her mouth.
"And perhaps, once in a while, before then."
Standing on her toes she kissed his cheek as the last of the illusory mansion disappeared along with its mistress. Turning in a circle Dreyfus saw he was, indeed standing in the dining room, but a ruined and broken version of the room he'd just been seeing. Catching a glimpse of himself in a broken fragment of mirror he saw that his cheek was stained with a lipstick kiss, the only thing that remained of all he had seen and felt.
What his mother had meant was left to him to interpret, if it had even been his mother's spirit.
Her bright eyes followed him but she was listening more than seeing, really listening. She looked young, and, indeed, she had been young, physically, when she died, but her eyes were not. When he finished speaking she looked down at the lovely table set with the china and silver that were no more, broken or stolen in the reality that waited outside the perfect recreation. When she looked up again her eyes steely, sold, the sort of eyes that could battle covens without flinching.
"When you came here, when we saw that you weren't really alive anymore, but not really dead either, I thought..." Her eyes went far away again, seeing the dream of her family together, able to know each other, but it faded even as the room around them began to fade. "But no. You aren't done with your life. When you gave it away it wasn't so you could reunite with us."
She stood, and as she did so her dress became a Reconciliator's uniform, black, severe, precise.
"I leave this place to you then, until you are ready." Stepping close her cool hand touched his face one more time.
"It isn't like time has any meaning to us anymore. We'll wait for you and come greet you when it's time."
A flicker of a smile that looked strikingly similar to Dreyfus' own flashed, almost playfully, across her mouth.
"And perhaps, once in a while, before then."
Standing on her toes she kissed his cheek as the last of the illusory mansion disappeared along with its mistress. Turning in a circle Dreyfus saw he was, indeed standing in the dining room, but a ruined and broken version of the room he'd just been seeing. Catching a glimpse of himself in a broken fragment of mirror he saw that his cheek was stained with a lipstick kiss, the only thing that remained of all he had seen and felt.
What his mother had meant was left to him to interpret, if it had even been his mother's spirit.
