You don't believe in the existence of other lives? That destiny can bind souls over thousands of years and make them meet again, suddenly, with a new purpose?
[Artemisia + Gorgo, modern AU]
Trailer for the fic: Artemisia x Gorgo || Modern AU || by syriana94
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The Meltemi is a dry and warm wind blowing into the Aegean area during summer, created by the collision between the high currents of the east-line Mediterranean and the low ones of the west-line coming from Turkey.
Chapter One – Opening Night
It was her big occasion. Of course, it had been a misfortune that the chosen catering service had to call off their engagement because of expired food supply; obviously they couldn't have hundreds of guests with food poisoning on the opening night of the new wing of the British Museum, so they'd been forced to organize everything last minute and she, apparently, ended up to be the second best choice for the dessert section. She'd worked on the cake for two whole days, closing her shop completely in order to get the work done because that cake would be for five hundred guests and it wasn't something she commonly did in her small bakery at the end of the street. But, if things would have gone in the right direction, she would have earn a considerate amount of money, not to mention any future call.
She assured that the cake was in a safe and cool area and that the waiters who were supposed to bring it out were competent enough not to make it drop ruinously to the ground, then decided to check on the small samples of pastries and biscuits from her special selection. Everything seemed fine and, surprisingly enough, she wasn't feeling nervous.
Whoever had decided to hire her wasn't going to regret the decision: who else could've provided a full reproduction of a great, long, iron ship in fondant with hand-painted, edible canvas and, to support it, a massive wave made out of cake, enough for half thousand people? It just needed a little fixing on the edges, where she would have to put white colored cream to make it look like actual water and she would be done; she could finally go out in her staff uniform and enjoy a little the party herself, pretending to supervise her sweet section – not that it was needed.
She grabbed her tools and began to finalize her masterpiece. She was about to complete the work when she squeezed a little too much to get the remanent cream out and ended up spilling the content of her saccapoche on her black trouser, leaving the fabric with an angry white stain on the length of her thigh.
"Shit." She cursed under her breath and finished the job in a hurry. "It's done!" She called anxiously, eyeing the two boys who were supposed to take care of her cake from now on. It would be the grand finale of the party: in about half an hour the entirely edible ship would be out there and cut into pieces as her work of two whole days would end up into people's bellies.
It was sad, almost, but any cake was made to be eaten – she couldn't do much about that.
Once she was alone again in the back of her small, designated area, staring at her cake as it was getting carried away on a wheeled tray, she sighed aloud, trying to get rid of the unfortunate stain with no results. She needed to find a restroom and quickly or else she would've never got rid of that stain and her trousers would be ruined forever. After all, it was a fancy party in a fancy museum, they simply had to have a restroom equipped with soap and paper.
She bolted through the staff corridors, clueless about the right paths to follow and when she reached the last door, she took a deeper breath and braced herself for worst: as she pushed the handle and slipped into the crowded room, she shared quick smiles and kept her eyes low, trying desperately to find some signs that could lead her to a bathroom. Luckily, everyone seemed too caught up into their conversations or admiring the props to mind a simple staff member with a large stain of meringue on her pants.
She couldn't help but admire the glamour in that room, as she rushed through the labyrinth of corridors and exhibition areas. It was the closest she got to a gala in her whole life, only seeing similar things on TV or on the Net. It was exciting to actually be there, even as a staff member – and an important one too since she provided the cake.
When she finally spotted the restroom sign, her heart leaped. It was placed into a quiet area too, which wasn't a bad thing, after all: the continuous chatting of the guests was starting to give her a headache. She sighed and pushed open the door, not even bothering to check if there was someone already in waiting in line to get to the toilets; after all, she just needed some water. The woman rushed in, her eyes and hands already heading to the sinks in anticipation when she noticed that she wasn't, in fact, alone.
She stopped dead when she suddenly saw another woman in there, who had abruptly turned to face her as soon as she entered. She felt like she'd intruded a private space and, for some unknown reason, she didn't seem to be willing to move, step back or exiting the restroom and leaving pretending she saw nothing.
The woman seemed upset. Though wearing some expensive black evening dress and elaborate make-up and hairstyle, her whole body seemed tensed, her face crumpled up in fear, maybe even on the verge of tears. She could easily imagine her pacing up and down the small restroom for ages, before her arrival.
She frowned, feeling uncomfortable, an innate sense of protection building up within her for that stranger in distress.
"Are you alright?" She asked tentatively, suddenly forgetting all about her own little emergency. Of course, a stain on some pants faded compared to a real human crisis to solve.
The woman sniffled loudly, resuming her nervous pacing just to give the other her back. She then held her own elbows, bending slightly forward and she strove to control her own breathing.
"Yes, I am." She shakily replied.
The other couldn't help but notice the low cut of her dress, exposing most of her freckled skin and her long black nails and ringed fingers holding a thick pack of densely written cards. Surely, on any other occasion, that woman would look like the most refined dame but, she had to admit to herself, not quite right now.
"Cause you don't look alright." She insisted, trying to get closer to her through very slow and careful steps.
The woman still didn't seem intentioned to turn.
"People make me anxious." She answered straight away.
The other scoffed, a diverted smile creeping out of her lips: it was just a panic attack caused by nervousness. Considering the cards, probably the girl was asked to make a speech and she hated to talk in front of crowds, or people in general.
"Definitely a wise choice to work in a museum." She remarked. How could she deal with all the people coming and going into that place every day if she really hated to talk to them? She stretched her neck to peek at the small portion of the stranger's face that she was now offering. She was smiling. She was glad that she'd made that distressed woman laugh a little, it was something to be proud of. "I'm Jack, by the way." Of course, like everybody else before her, she gave a blank expression back. She liked to confuse people with her name, it was entraining, a little game of hers she liked to play on every occasion. "Stands for Jacklin." She explained with a smile.
The woman in front of her had seemed to have regained composure and she was finally looking a little more approachable and relaxed.
"Diana." She replied with the hint of a smile.
"And you work in the Greek wing of the Museum?" The other couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips soon after: it was the Latin name of the goddess Artemis. "That's really something."
The other looked somewhat outraged at first, then her lips bend up into a smirk as she tilted her head in sympathy; of course, she couldn't blame Jack for being right.
"Well, in the Persian one too, from now on. That is, if I can manage to make my speech." She sighed, turning fully to face the other woman, heading to the sinks and shuffling her notes under the clear light of the neons. "Oh, I'm a mess." She lamented, grimacing at her own reflection.
"You're fine." Jack replied, hardly concealing her impressed look for that woman was truly remarkable: she looked young and already working as a curator for two wings of the British Museum, despite her clear shyness; she must've been something alright.
She crossed her arms as she inspected the mirror herself. Diana's make-up was still on point and her hairstyle too. It was her expression that made her look absolutely terrified, like a lonely puppy on the roads. "How long before you have to go out there?"
Diana grabbed her wrist rather harshly and pulled it to her to read her watch.
"Twenty minutes." She replied with a choked sigh, returning her arm.
Jack studied her for a moment. She couldn't have helped noticing that her hands were shaking and her fingers had felt incredibly cold; if the girl was having a real panic attack, she couldn't just leave her there, alone. Maybe, on the other hand, she was just overreacting. In any case, she couldn't risk it having her on the conscience and perhaps just a small chat and a little encouragement could do the trick.
"It can't be that bad." She offered, leaning against the counter with the small of her back and looking at her as she fixed her already perfect red lipstick.
"I wish I could just get over with it and go home." Diana muttered under her breath, heaving a shaky sigh as her breathing still hadn't returned completely normal.
Jack stared a little longer. She really hadn't any experience with speeches and talking to crowds, since the closest things to that had been answering the teacher's questions in high school and she never had any problem with it; but yes, she could understand that for some people it could be unsettling, especially when a life's career was involved.
"Just imagine everybody naked." She said with a grimace, offering the first thing that came to mind. It was a bit of common advice to say in those situations, or at least she thought so.
"It never works." Diana winced back, shaking her head with a dubious purse of her lips.
"I supposed not." The other smirked, feeling a little low-spirited because she hadn't succeeded with being much of help, not at the moment anyway but perhaps... later. Maybe she could still be of use: whenever she was feeling down or nervous about something, focusing on something happy and good happening into a near future helped her a lot, all the better if it was something unexpected, and perhaps it could work with her too. "You know the bakery at the end of the street?"
Diana, once again, looked confused.
"What?" She frowned.
To be honest, that sentence could sound out of the blue.
"The bakery at the end of the street." She repeated with a smile and a soft shrug of her shoulders. "For when you're finished. I'll offer you a drink, a chat, whatever. If you think about that, maybe you won't stress much about your speech."
Diana gave her a blank expression for a moment. For how much she struggled to conceal it, a shy smile still managed to escape her lips.
"It's late already. I doubt it'll be open by then." She moved her shoulders, her blue eyes reverberating the unnatural light of the neon bulbs around the restroom mirror.
Jack bit her inner cheek, hardly suppressing a smirk of her own.
"I have my ways." She simply stated, leaning slightly toward the other woman while suggestively nibbling her bottom lip. She gave her a cheeky grin, her green eyes almost pleading, showing no signs of retreat unless Diana would've accepted.
The woman's smile was contagious, she had to give her that. Diana sighed and rolled her eyes with a diverted twitch of her nose.
"Alright." She finally conceded.
"Good." Chirped the other, feeling proud of herself. "So, it's settled." She stated, her voice determined as she backed up a bit, giving the other woman some space. "I'll be around," She started, but then frowned. "waiting for you-" She corrected, but that too was not correct and, frankly, it sounded pushy. "I'll be outside." She said at last, heaving a sigh. "I'll be outside the museum at the staff entrance to avoid the crowd."
"Alright." She said in a very light voice, offering a very shy smile too. "I'll better go, now."
"Yeah." Jack nodded, her heart hammering inside her chest; she suddenly felt her cheeks growing red and hoped that the neons would hide that embarrassing shade. It was not like her to be thrown off balance by some random girl. She continued smiling as Diana exited the bathroom ever-so-slowly, then, a second before leaving, she spun abruptly on her heels.
"Oh." She called, her own cheeks turning a darker shade of pink as her eyes dropped. "You have a stain on your pants." She said with a smirk, then left for good.
Jack stared at the swinging door until it stopped moving, the 'thanks' she was supposed to say still lingering on her lips, perhaps remaining forever unsaid.
🏛️
It began as a whisper, a promise. It moved through her hair as gently as a lover's hand. And that breeze, that promise, became a wind; a wind that blew carrying a message told again and again. A wind of sacrifice, of freedom, of justice and vengeance.
As she got changed, her mind could only focus on the flickering memories of Diana. She could still hear her metallic voice, distorted by the microphone, echoing through the silent hall, her words relayed back, from table to table, guest to guest, until they reached her. She'd been charmed by her for whole time of her speech and although she couldn't understand half of the topics she was discussing – mostly founds and good investments that led the museum there –, her passionate words about the beauty of the relics and the collection which would be hosted in the new wing, and as she recited some of the inscriptions they'd translated, caught her completely, almost as if she was there herself, on those wooden ships as the Persian fleet sank into the Aegean.
Jack had felt a knot into her stomach as she'd heard those words and she hadn't been exactly sure if it had been the speech per se or it had been Diana, her voice and how her blue eyes had scanned the crowd, resting their anxious wandering only then she met hers or how, after that contact, she smiled back at her as she spoke. From that moment on, she had had eyes only for her.
The woman beamed to herself as she slipped on her casual outfit, which consisted in her favorite Iron Maiden shirt, worn out by time, her most comfy jeans and a simple leather jacket and sneakers; then, she unceremoniously shoved the stained uniform into her bag. Jack put it on her back, counterbalancing the thing by pulling down with her hand over her shoulder and she was ready to go outside. She offered curtsey smiles to the staff exiting the building with her and waited patiently, her neck stretched to peek around the corner, where thousands of flashes snapped as many photos as possible at the VIP guests in their expensive gowns as they walked down the stairs of the main entrance of the museum.
Jack let her mind wander freely, imagining when Diana would appear, how would she look now that she'd done her speech and only a relaxing, quiet night was ahead of her. The woman was feeling anxious: it had been so long since the last time she'd invited a woman to spend time with her so abruptly, without planning the even in details. She was a perfectionist – her job required precision – and yet she'd managed to invite that woman just for the sake of it because she wanted to give her a distraction. She didn't even think about what she was doing if not when it was too late. Maybe it had been a mistake, but she wasn't regretting making it. On the contrary, she was feeling quite excited and she was determined to follow her instinct; it was out of instinct that she'd asked her out, an innate driven force that brought words to her mouth. She just had to follow it.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn't realize that Diana had arrived, carefully jogging on her high heels as she desperately tried to avoid the cameras by shielding her face with her hands. After a little while, they got tired of her and left her alone.
Panting a little, the woman walked toward her, one hand lifting the dress so the edge wouldn't sweep off the sidewalk and the other grabbing a quilted pochette.
Jack couldn't suppress a smile, which she shyly returned.
"You look stunning." She muttered, but her voice failed and it came out like a shaky breath.
The woman cleared her throat, pretending it didn't happen and rather focusing on Diana: she doubted she'd brought a change of clothes from home because she probably had planned to book a taxi and go home right after the event. Unluckily for her, Jack had decided to spoil her plans for the night and she was more than determined not to make her regret the decision of accepting her proposal.
"Thanks?" Diana replied with a doubtful smirk, her blue eyes scanning, for a moment, her casual attire.
Jack mimicked her action, her eyes following her sight.
"We do look like a very bad assembled pairing." She admitted with a twitch of her nose. Anyone who laid eyes on them could only see a perfectly elegant woman strolling beside a stylish, but still stereotypical tomboy; embarrassing enough, Diana was taller than her but, for the moment, she could blame it on the heels.
"Like fries with honey?" Diana asked with a giggle, her eyes low on the street as they walked side by side.
Jack watched her with the corner of her eye.
She always liked to play with food and tastes, even the weirdest one but that was new; it was rare that someone could take her by surprise, especially when it came down to food. And yet, the more she thought about the combination, the more sense it made. After all, sweet and salty had always worked divinely together.
When they arrived at the bakery, Jack was the one to lead the way. She stopped right in front of the closed shop and sighed dramatically at the gates that protected the exposition glass.
"I told you it would be closed." Diana sighed frustratedly, shifting rather uncomfortably her weight from one foot the other. It was then that Jack pulled out her keys, making them clink and blink at the distant light of the street-lights. "You're the cake girl?"
"I am." The other replied, hardly suppressing a little smirk. She hated being referred to as the cake girl but, on the other hand, it was the easiest way to describe a person who owns a bakery and makes pastry and cookies for a living. "Welcome to my kingdom."
The empty shop was so different than how it presented itself in the day. The soft white neons casting flickering light in the dark space, the continuous humming of the machines abusing the stillness that would've fallen without. Even then, Jack felt finally at home: that place was entirely hers, filled with things she loved, from the paintings on the walls to every creation she intended to sell, from the smallest to the largest.
She was proud of it and she couldn't nor wanted to deny it.
"Please, take a seat." Jack offered, gesturing at the first table. In the past few months, she'd added a bunch of tables and purchased a professional coffee machine, which had turned her bakery into a little cafè, and her earnings had almost doubled. "I've never seen you around. Lots of people from the museum come here to have breakfast." She commented, dropping her bag somewhere behind the counter.
Soon after, she jumped over and disappeared beyond it.
"I never have breakfast." Diana muttered absentmindedly, all the while stretching her neck to see if she was still there, to no results.
"That's no good." Exclaimed Jack with a small frown, emerging from the counter and gingerly heading to what it seemed to be her lab. "Are you hungry?" She asked and, without waiting for her to answer, she disappeared again. Only the noises of her moving around the lab could be heard, as she moved around knocking down metallic things and cursed under her breath by herself.
Diana listened and giggled, her heart finally at ease as she acclimated. Usually, she was always nervous when she found herself alone in foreign places with people she didn't know and to be frank, it was a mystery why she accepted that invitation in the first place – it wasn't like her, not at all. But maybe it was the loneliness finally kicking in, pushing her to move and make some friends to escape that hollow shell that had become her life lately.
Jack looked like the perfect person to help her get back on the track, right now: she was confident, lively and a happy person in general while also being quite a lovely dork too. She made her laugh. She made her feel relaxed. It was the kind of person she needed.
It was worth giving her a chance: she had to try to be more open; Diana owed it to herself.
She leaned back more conformably on her chair and waited for Jack to come back. When she did, the woman was carrying a couple of mismatched trays full of paper napkins wrapped around small pastries and cookies of all sort.
"These are some samples." She announced, putting the trays on the table and sitting in the empty chair opposite to Diana. "I'm experimenting with new flavors. Tell me what you think!" She proposed excitedly, her eyes shimmering like the ones of a child.
Diana couldn't stop smiling. It was so rare to encounter such genuine people and after all those years of working in museums and dealing with businessmen and careerists, she had lost faith in humanity, but then, again, fate had proved her wrong. As she ate with curiosity every new pastry, her mind raced helplessly to the evening, the beauty of the new wing, all the success and things they'd accomplished and the party to testify it. It had been a gorgeous opening night, even though the only part she really enjoyed was everything that had come after her speech. It was unbelievable how she was now sitting into an empty bakery eating sweets and talking to the very person who created such a wonderful cake for them: it had been the talk of the evening and quite rightly so.
"I haven't thanked you yet for the cake, it was spectacular." She said, nibbling at a fruit tart that had been accompanied with some weird dust she couldn't recognize.
Jack shook herself from her state of a daze as she stared at the woman, waiting for her to give her feedback on the new proposal. The cake she'd created for the museum was one of her biggest success, she knew that, but hearing from her lips, somehow, made it even better.
"Aspect or taste?" She asked while beaming, her cheeks hurting from the too much smiling.
"Both, of course." Promptly replied Diana, a half scandalized look on her face. It was beyond her how it could be possible to choose between such an incredible sculpture and its mind-blowing taste.
Jack sighed and crossed her arms, moving slowly her neck as she nibbled on a cookie herself. It was relaxing, she decided, to see her selecting the next sweet, her eyes scanning each pastry before bringing the chosen one to her lips.
They stood like that for a while, Diana trying to explain her thoughts about this or that creation, piling up those that not met her taste in one tray and arrange graciously the one she likes in the other.
Jack just kept staring at her, hardly believing that all that was really happening. It had bee a while since she'd had someone in her shop late at night and she could easily state that not one time that someone had been as refined and good looking as Diana; that woman didn't belong there and yet, surprisingly, she'd managed to melt with the surrounding environment. Her fake armor of glacial dame for everyone else had thawed out and now she was standing alone before her eyes, calm, relaxed and oh-so-fascinating.
People had always found easy to relate with her, but Diana had stripped her own cover away so quickly it was dazzling. Perhaps she could really hope for the best; she'd always thought that the most random encounters always turned out to be the most enthralling ones.
Jack found herself openly smiling and she was somewhat relieved that the other woman wasn't really paying much attention to her, otherwise, she would've to explain that casual smirk she'd had on her lips. But then her relief turned into something else when she noticed that Diana was wincing in what looked like some sort of discomfort.
"Is there something wrong?" She asked alarmed, fearing that some weird combination of her pastries could've caused troubles.
Diana heaved a sharp sigh and shook her head.
"The stilettos are killing me." She simply said.
Jack sighed as well, at least she had avoided some ungrateful outcome.
"You should take them off, then." She proposed with a shrug. The other threw her a quizzical glance, looking dubious. "It's only us and it's my shop, don't bother."
Diana studied her features for a long time before eventually getting rid of the shoes, which fell from her feet with little thuds. Instantly, she let out an eased sigh and her lids fell close.
Jack swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling her occasion was finally approaching. Her eyes were fixed on her, her heart thumping between her ribs, her mind going blank for a moment, telling her that it was now or never.
The woman rose up from her chair and, as if had its own will, her hand lifted gently to cup the other's cheek, her thumb pushing just below the chin to force her head to tilt backward. Their lip got so close, for a moment and then, suddenly, Diane's eyes snapped open.
"What are you doing?" She asked with a shaky voice and although she didn't sound angry, she positively looked befuddled.
Jack struggled to hide her disappointment and her heart started to pump faster, getting so loud that she could hear the blood thumping inside her ears.
"You're not engaged, right?" She asked hurriedly. Her eyes dropped immediately to her left hand, fearing she might've missed some details, but all her other fingers were wrapped by gems and stones rings, except for one. No, she wasn't engaged, hence that was not the problem, unless… "Wait," Jack paused. "you're not gay?" Diana gave her a soft giggle, then, nibbling at her bottom fingers, she moved her head almost imperceptibility in what she imagined being a no. Jack straightened her back, frowning to the point where her eyebrows almost touched. "That's a first." She commented, folding her arms on her chest. "I'm never wrong – generally."
Diana had mimicked her posture, but to her frown, she was answering with a curious grin.
"Are you?" She questioned, her voice dropping in volume like something secret was about to been divagated. "Gay?"
Jack almost looked outraged, and yet, the naiveness she'd used to make that question, had made it impossible for the woman to feel angry or offended.
"Isn't that obvious?" She retorted. Diana just stood still, staring back. "Well, that's awkward." The other concluded with a sharp sigh. "And it's another first." It had never happened before to be mistaken for anything but gay; not that she was wearing any label, but somehow people always knew – was it her looks, her posture, her way of walking or her stereotypical short nail, she had no clue, yet everyone always knew. Everyone except her.
"I should probably go." Diana abruptly said, standing up all at once.
The movement was so sudden that made Jack flinch.
"Yeah." She muttered, her whole self blue for the wasted occasion. "I'm sorry for-"
"Don't be." Diana interrupted, offering her a kind smile.
Jack couldn't help but return it, and her heart started to beat again. Perhaps there was still hope to be even just friend? She couldn't be blamed for hoping, after all; and then who knows in the future what might happen?
"So, you'll call me?" She hurriedly said, rushing to the counter to dig into a drawer she always planned to tidy up but never did. When she finally found what she was looking for, she offered Diana a small laminated card.
The woman studied the card with a diverted smirk, drawing closer to her face the piece of paper before letting out a soft giggle.
"Spartula?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows with a diverted face.
Jack pursued her lips unimpressed, maybe even embarrassed at some level, and shoved both of her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
"I know it's lame, but it's an old card. Anyhow, it has my phone on it." She sheepishly explained, swinging on the spot. "I thought it was funny, you see – I had a Greek-themed logo." She said, pointing at the card, where a little grecian symbol would décor one corner.
"It is." The other admitted with a small nod, her lips still smiling.
"Now it's Queen of Tarts." Jack said with a faint grimace, considering for a moment telling her how she'd thought, for a while, to keep playing with the name and twisting it around, then she desisted. There would be time to talk, later, if she'd decided to indeed call her back.
"Still, your logo is Leonida's statue in Sparta." Commented Diana, gesturing toward the small billboard on the wall. "You're preaching to the choir with me." She smiled, tilting her head ever so slightly.
Jack beamed as she took the card and carefully slipped into her purse to keep it safe. It was something already. It gave her hope.
"What can I say?" She grinned. "I'm lucky." Diana shared a peal of small laughter with her, before heading to the shop's entrance, the other in tow as she escorted her on the doorway. "It was a pleasure." She finally muttered, extending her arm.
Diana happily took her hand and gracefully shook it; contrary to hers, Jack's fingers felt warm.
"Likewise." She said, her voice coming out just like a whisper. "Bye."
Jack restrained the urge to push the thin lock of hair that came undone behind her ear and just smiled. "Bye." She replied.
Jack watched her leaving her bakery. Her smartly dressed silhouette sprinted outside with her shoes in one hand, waving for a cab to stop. When she found one, Diana hopped in, then waved from the black car. Jack found herself smiling back at her.
As she disappeared into the traffic, the woman sighed.
She really hoped Diana would call.