* Pic is of Terpsichore
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
A young woman with raven black hair swirled into the room, her dress wispy and white, dancing as she plucked a lyre, her song melding with the flute on Euterpe’s lips. The music swelled, and Candice felt tears prick her eyes at the beauty of it all.
"Terpsichore," Apollo whispered into her ear. "The Muse of Dance."
The way the woman moved was like a spring breeze, the black tendrils of her hair flying gracefully as she swirled and swayed to the tune flowing from her fingers, her eyes closed in bliss, hands dramatically outstretched. She twirled to a stop, her skirts rotating in a flurry of white, pausing to look playfully over her shoulder at her sisters, and they laughed, Thalia clapping her hands in glee. A thump distracted them, and they all turned to look, Euterpe lowering her flute, and Terpsichore’s fingers stilled on the strings of her lyre.
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
Please don't forget to vote :) Thankyou!
YOU ARE READING
Apollo's Muse
FantezieWhen disturbing dreams haunt the mind of a fragile girl, she doesn't take into account the power of the mysterious boy next door. Her illness becomes a binding force for their friendship, and the fight for life slowly develops into a powerful aphrod...
