Unlike the membranous walls that she had been trapped in, the ground that she dropped to was not so forgiving, so soft. She lay on the ground, dazed and horribly bruised, until a curt, authoritative voice spoke up.
“I apologize for the entrance. There was no other way, let me assure you of that.”
It was dark in the room – so dark that her eyes ached as she tried to read vague shapes out of it. For a moment, she could only see the vague outline of the speaker. For a few scarce moments, as she adjusted accordingly to the dark, she believed that what she was seeing was partly caused by the blow she had taken when she had fallen.
No; what she saw was, indeed, real, she realized as she saw the features of the vague outline. The speaker was a woman in flowing, red-velvet robes that did not seem to give an air of holiness, but instead one of decadence. Looking at her, she felt woefully inadequate and childlike next to the woman.
“I've already slowed time; this sanctum allows for the rule of time to be momentarily waived. It does not, however, stall time indefinitely. We have but little time and resource to take back Our life before its destruction.”
She tried to open her mouth to speak, but she realizes, then, that she has no mouth which which to speak with. Frightened, she begins to scream, futility, against the thick skin that takes the place of where her mouth should be.
“Yes, yes, I know that it's frightening. Keep focused, I need you paying attention.” The woman waited for her to stop ripping at where her mouth should be before she continued to speak. “Good. I knew you were reasonable. I will introduce msyelf to you, now, but you have no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are. I am Muse.”
The woman was beguiling, difficult to not give her full attention to. Her name meant nothing to her, so she nodded dumbly.
The woman seemed to relax a bit, her frown lessening. “I had to pull you out of the outside world. I don't know if you remember what happened – DO you remember what occurred?”
Puzzled, she begins to shake her head from side to side. And then it hits her. The unrelenting feeling of contempt, of regret, of depression, and then, finally, the feeling of something gagging her, something wrapped thoughtlessly around her thin neck, and she is flying in her room, suspended by the ceiling-
“You almost went full way through it. I pulled you here, to explain to you the repercussions of your actions. You need to listen to me. Do you understand me?”
It was too much for her, then, as she stared up at the cold face of Muse. She felt her body spilling to her knees. She sat, pitifully, on the floor, and began to sob, weeping so that her tears fell onto the ground.
Muse's voice rang out, then, sharp, cold, commanding. “Get to your feet, there is no time for this. Now!”
She rose to her feet when she felt something sharp hit her side, which turned out to be one of Muse's shoes. Dazed with pain, she tried to groan, ignorant, momentarily, of the fact that she had no mouth to cry out with.
She is at the closest that she has ever been to Muse, and she can now see her face, and see the cold indifference and cruelty that lay in her eyes. In that moment, as she made close eye contact with her, she felt, deeply, that this woman truly held nothing but contempt for her. Truthfully, she could not blame Muse for loathing her.
“You need to fix what's happened. We need to work together to change this, so that we can live with a situation that will work for the both of us. I will put you in a position of power, over even me, but only with one concession for me – I need you to swear that you will never betray us again, but I need you to vow this of your own free will. Do you understand me?”
It was far too confusing for her, and she began to weep anew. Muse smiled a chilling smile – fearful in its pleasure – and spoke again. “You must trust me. This is of utmost impotence, because you must kill your false twin.”
She wanted to scream in frustration, in fearful confusion, and she scrabbled once more at her sealed mouth until Muse roughly tore her hands away from her face. When she turned her full attention to the meaningful silence of Muse, she took note of the direction in which she pointed.
Humped up against one of the inflating and deflating walls was what she initially thought was a pile of filthy clothing. As she focused on it, however, she saw vague, weak movements emerge from the shape. A hand pushed out from under the veil of clothing, pale.
She looked up to Muse, and saw that she was nodding, encouraging her to walk over to the shape. Reluctantly, she walked over to the shape and pulled the cover of clothing from off of the shape.
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