Calliope felt a rush of lust as Neil departed. Her finger tips tingled and she felt an uncomfortable throb. It was always a risk to let her subconcious run free. Such lapses tended to end badly, stripped of her intellect her inner self tended to respond to base impulses which tended in one of two directions. She let out a sigh and tried to get her head on straight. Letting her innerself con the ship was likely to lead to a bloodbath or a... well a different scenario. She sat down and began brushing her hair, using an old techinque to bring herself into equilibrium, each of a hundred strokes to bring her mind to equilibrium. 

She dressed herself carefully, adjusting the black fur cloak around herself. It would have been better to wear white she thought, but she just couldn't pull that off with her midnight black hair. Trying to appear pure always made her lookd fake something she couldn't afford at the current moment. The temptation to use her magic was strong. The spell she had worked with Neil had been powered by him, an enforced distance between his soul and his body. She imagined the watchers downstairs afraid she was a necromancer, then imagined the look of shock on thier faces as her magic began to rip them appart. She forced that thought down as well. The spellburn was fading but it would be days before she was up to her full potential. The battle at the party had stretched her well beyond her limits, she could feel that strength growing inside her. Maybe if she just looked at the book she could... No. She couldn't afford the temptation right now. Her hands strayed to the chalice and she lifted it up. She was looking forward to seeing what kind of show Neil and his shards of glass put on. Somehow she was prepared to be impressed.