By Lynn Tanner (lynn@tenon.com)
Dappled rays of sunlight slipping through the cracks illuminated the vault of the attic, and set the dust motes to dancing. She'd found the vanity sitting behind an old wardrobe, covered with a white sheet. The diary was still hidden in the table top drawer, where a lady might conceal such things. Lydia spent the entire afternoon with her nose in the musty old book, reading about her grandmother's ...<polite cough>..encounters. Granma Rose really knew how to have fun, it seemed.
When Lydia had finished reading, with the wide eyed wonder of any intrepid explorer, she reached up to pull back the sheet and reveal Rose's prized possession. It was a silver mirror, nearly four foot high, perfectly round, mounted in a beautifully carved wooden frame. It was a bit dusty, but nonetheless exquisitely wrought in what looked to be mahogany. The frame seemed to be a tumble of roses and oak leaves, with a beautiful acorn at the top. According to Rose's diary, it was in front of this vanity, gazing into this mirror that she'd been able to conjure daily visions of her lovers. Visions so powerful that they'd been like waking dreams. Visions that felt like memories of actual occurences. And memories that were so powerful that the ache they left behind was almost unbearable. That is until the next night came, and she could feel the caress of her lover's hands again...
Lydia gazed into the mirror's depth, daring to believe. She felt the faerie tale quality of her grandmother's whimsical ideas, that a mirror could bring into existence the form of a person. But she also read the warning in Rose's diary. "Whoever reads this after I am gone, I beg you. Don't fall in love with these images. They are but daydreams made solid. And a dream is no replacement for true love."
Well, what could a little dreaming hurt. Lydia suddenly remembered all the teen idol pictures she had wedged in the frame of the mirror in her own room. How many times had she fallen asleep thinking of Heathcliff or the Scarlett Pimpernel? Holding her breath, she closed her eyes to think of "his" face. What would his cologne smell like? Mere moments later, she sensed the presence behind her and heard the voice.
"Cherie, you waited for me!"
Legend has it that this item was commissioned by a sidhe noble for his young bride. The original intention was a kind of magical projection of his love for her, so that when he was away questing, she had but to think of him, and he would appear to her, "...satisfying her every need." Well, what the lord neglected to specify was that his was the only visage that could ever be reproduced in the mirror. You can decide for yourself how that adventure worked out...
The Mirror collects the Glamour of the gazer/dreamer and forms it into a Chimerical representation of the person you are obsessing on. It only produces one "image" per day, which lasts from eight hours to, at most (five successes), until sun down or sunrise. It can be used only once per day, and the user must be alone to create the image. It works for both kithain and mortals. The image is complete in all five senses, although there is the possibility that supers can detect the chimerical nature of "whoever" appears. (Lack of a soul perhaps?)
I don't think I need to point out the possible addictive qualities of being able to conjure a person with whom you are enamored. The person will act like you imagine them to, and even take motivational direction from the wishes of the dreamer. The image will do anything the dreamer desires, up to and including the <polite cough> unspeakable...::wink:: The image will always act (pardon the use of this cursed phrase) in character and is not a slave. If the dreamer ever discovers the true (chimerical) nature of the image, it will disappear.
Caveat emptor. Obviously the creation of a twisted mind...My own!