A/N: Inspired by Pygmalion and Galatea.
Santana does sculpture in her free time.
She's fucking good at it.
Before, Santana would use that time to find the perfect guy. But when she realized she couldn't, because she was a lesbian, she used it to find the perfect girl instead.
Santana is what is known as 'universally hot', and even the straightest girls would fall to her feet. This meant a lot of suitors, and this should mean she would find the perfect girl in no time. This, as Santana would find out, was a complete fallacy.
She always found fault in every one she dated. Some were too ugly, some too nosy, some too talkative, some too selfish, some too slow-witted, and most just plain annoying.
Call her picky, whatever. What's the point in dating someone when you don't like her?
Eventually, Santana gave up.
Santana was studying medicine during this dating crisis, and she was brilliant. Even her professors said so. But when she took up sculpture in the local community college (she was brilliant; she didn't even need to study a lot) she realized that her heart wasn't in medicine. Creating something beautiful from a lifeless lump of earth, that was beautiful.
She quit her course and applied for a job as a waitress to pay for her apartment and her classes and whatever else she needed.
Her roommates didn't mind when she brought home her projects. It was actually them who told her to send some pieces to a gallery. Without them, she'd have never been found out by Mr Abrams. He sought her out and offered to be her sponsor. Santana found out that even though he was about her age, he was filthy rich. Like, really, really fucking rich, since his parents were billionaires, and he himself was a child prodigy with at least ten inventions to his name. He gave her the contract, and after she reviewed it with her conveniently-a-law-student roommate, she agreed.
At first, she couldn't believe it. The contract stated that she'd have free house and lodging, a studio literally next to her room which she was free to use any time she wanted, advanced classes paid for by Mr Abrams, a weekly allowance that would probably give her parents cardiac arrests, and permission to use all the facilities at the Abrams estate.
She wasn't that good, was she? And he doesn't seem to be the type to appreciate art. Was he hitting on her? It's a bit too much, isn't it?
Yet she still moved in. She eventually found out that he had a beautiful Asian girlfriend who he was obviously in love with, and that she was the one who expressed a wish to own more of her works.
Santana was relieved, but looking at Mr Abrams and Ms Cohen-chang caused an ache in her heart, an emptiness she had been trying to fill for so long.
Santana placed her everything in her work. She'd eat, work out, read, spend a little time with her former roommates, take short trips to the mall, swim a little in the Abrams pool, even talk with Mr Abrams and Ms Cohen-chang, who were quickly turning into Artie and Tina, but most of her time was spent in sculpturing. On Monday, she'd be taught by Mr Evans on the techniques of wood carving, on Tuesday Ms Berry would discuss the art of glass sculptures, on Wednesday Mr Puckerman would show her how to cast metal, and on Friday Ms Holliday would come and teach her stone carving.
She was a natural in all of these, but she was extraordinary in stone sculpture.
Eventually, she focused on creating from stone, from that she made her best works.
Ms Holliday would come some days, but usually it was just Santana, her tools, and a hunk of rock.
Her first creation was a foot-high lion made of marble. Tina was absolutely delighted by it, and asked for a whole safari one time during dinner. In months she was able to produce zebras, giraffes, lions, ostriches, and lions, and she was satisfied with her work. Tina, Artie, Artie's parents, and their friends, on the other hand, were astounded by the outcome, and several big shots offered to buy the ensemble. Artie, however, kept it in his garden, although he did give Santana an enormous sum of money.
She continued carving, and became better as time passed. She had created figurines, busts, and life-sized statues, each work more beautiful than the last.
Even though her works were already well known throughout even the most elite art circles, she herself was kept hidden and remained as the anonymous prodigy. She asked Artie for this privilege, and he quickly agreed. He understood that she was extremely reserved. He knew that all she wanted to do was create and beautify.
Time came when she was asked through Artie to make a piece for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She agreed and proceeded to make the best of all her works.
She shut herself in her studio with a block of ivory and her tools, and poured her heart out. She set out to create the thing she longed for the most, and for months, she carved, filed, and polished. She painstakingly took attention of every little detail, and the only guide she had was her mind's eye. She barely went out, devoting all her time and attention to the statue. Every day, she'd feel vulnerable, never letting her feelings this close to the surface before.
In the end, she created Perfection.
Long legs, firm arms, toned torso, graceful features, beautiful eyes.
She recalled the Roman goddess Brittania, who was the gray area between Athena and Minerva, the perfect mixture between wise and warlike, beautiful and strong.
Santana named her Brittany.
She took in the sight, and felt her pulse quicken, her head becoming woozy.
She once again recalled a myth, that of Pygmalion and Galatea. The sculptor who fell in love with his creation.
Every night afterwards, she'd slip into the studio and kiss the statue on the lips. Every night she'd sleep, longing for someone to hold her close.
Artie and Tina were only able to see her masterpiece the day the museum came to take it away. They were left dumbfounded, and they regretted that they promised it off to the museum. But when they looked at Santana, they saw something deeper than regret. They didn't understand what it was, but they decided that it was separation from her best creation yet.
Santana became even more secluded the days after, and they decided to send her to New York to check on her statue. Maybe all she needed was closure.
Santana arrived in New York the week after the exhibit opened, and came to the museum the hour before it closed. She found that her piece was amongst statues from ancient Greece and Rome, and once again recalled Pygmalion and Galatea.
She presented the security guard with a letter from Artie and asked that they leave her alone for five minutes.
She decided to give the statue one last kiss.
She stepped up to the statue, her ivory maiden, and felt all of the statues' eyes follow her as her lips descended upon cold bone.
Their lips touched and Santana was met with soft warmth. She jumped and almost fell backward, when a pair of strong arms steadied her. She looked up and saw eyes bluer than the sky.
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