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section7mfuHaving to wait for Napoleon Solo was an occupational hazard for Illya Kuryakin. Admittedly, he wasn’t late when it mattered but, the rest of the time, he was usually tardy. At least this time, Illya had something to occupy his mind while he waited. He was leaning against a street lamp watching the Krewe of Endymion pass by in one of the New Orleans Mardi Gras parades. It wasn’t so much the parade itself which had distracted his thoughts, though it did prove entertaining, but the name of the Krewe.
Way back in another life, when he had been a student at Cambridge University in London, Illya had spent quite a lot of time with a girl called Clarissa Southon. She was a student of the classics and had a passion for Greek mythology. She also had a passion for Illya, and they often woke up together of a morning.
There had been one particular day when Illya had opened his eyes to find Clarissa watching him. She had been smiling lovingly, and when he had asked why she was watching him sleep, she had told him that he had put her in mind of Endymion.
“What do you mean?” he’d queried.
“In one version of the legend, the Titan sun goddess, Selene, was enamoured by how Endymion looked when he slept,” Clarissa had told him. “She entreated his father, Zeus, to keep him in a permanent state of slumber.”
“And you like the way I look when asleep?”
“Oh yes,” she answered lustily. “It makes you look so peaceful, and somehow younger. That resonates with the other version of the legend.”
“Do tell,” he’d said, as he ran his fingers over her body.
“Selene believed Endymion to be so beautiful, that she asked Zeus to grant him eternal youth.”
No more words had been said on the subject, and they had both been late for lectures that morning.
As he thought about what he’d learned about Endymion, Illya couldn’t help but smile. He was thirty-four years old, yet it was often remarked that he looked many years younger; especially when he was asleep. He briefly wondered if Clarissa had made an entreaty to Zeus herself.
“You seem happy,” stated Napoleon, dragging Illya back to reality.
“Just enjoying the parade,” Illya replied.
The expression Solo had seen on his partner’s face had not been one of enjoyment, but of reminiscence. He could easily ask what Illya had been thinking about, but decided against it. Whatever he had been remembering had clearly been a happy time, and Illya should be allowed to keep those memories to himself.
.
Way back in another life, when he had been a student at Cambridge University in London, Illya had spent quite a lot of time with a girl called Clarissa Southon. She was a student of the classics and had a passion for Greek mythology. She also had a passion for Illya, and they often woke up together of a morning.
There had been one particular day when Illya had opened his eyes to find Clarissa watching him. She had been smiling lovingly, and when he had asked why she was watching him sleep, she had told him that he had put her in mind of Endymion.
“What do you mean?” he’d queried.
“In one version of the legend, the Titan sun goddess, Selene, was enamoured by how Endymion looked when he slept,” Clarissa had told him. “She entreated his father, Zeus, to keep him in a permanent state of slumber.”
“And you like the way I look when asleep?”
“Oh yes,” she answered lustily. “It makes you look so peaceful, and somehow younger. That resonates with the other version of the legend.”
“Do tell,” he’d said, as he ran his fingers over her body.
“Selene believed Endymion to be so beautiful, that she asked Zeus to grant him eternal youth.”
No more words had been said on the subject, and they had both been late for lectures that morning.
As he thought about what he’d learned about Endymion, Illya couldn’t help but smile. He was thirty-four years old, yet it was often remarked that he looked many years younger; especially when he was asleep. He briefly wondered if Clarissa had made an entreaty to Zeus herself.
“You seem happy,” stated Napoleon, dragging Illya back to reality.
“Just enjoying the parade,” Illya replied.
The expression Solo had seen on his partner’s face had not been one of enjoyment, but of reminiscence. He could easily ask what Illya had been thinking about, but decided against it. Whatever he had been remembering had clearly been a happy time, and Illya should be allowed to keep those memories to himself.
.
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