this is a torch song [arrival]
She can feel the city burning around her. It's more than just the smell of the smoke, the taste of the ash in the air, the heat of the flames--no, it's deeper than that. Troy igniting is more than just a physical burn. It's all of Helen's hopes evaporating.
She hears the door to her room open--somehow, the flames haven't touched the room she once shared with Paris--and it is Menelaus, her former husband, sweaty from the heat (and, she supposes, the strain of killing innocent townsfolk).
"I should kill you right now," he says, and shakes his sword at her. Helen does not move at first. Instead of falling and weeping, or (gods forbid!) trying to fight back, she stays still, like when she was a little girl, playing hide and seek.
Menelaus steps forward. Helen does the one thing she knows will save her--she opens up her top, baring one of her breasts.
Then, in actuality, it is Menelaus who falls and weeps, overcome with--what? Her beauty? His longing for his wife? She does not know.
All she knows it that it has saved her from death. At heart, Helen is a survivor.
She lets the moment linger, then closes her top and for some reason (as if expecting a blow anyway) she shuts her eyes.
When she opens them, it is cold.
Helen is standing outside on a lawn, facing a large house whose design looks nothing like anything she's seen in Sparta or Troy. Her clothes are no match for the weather, it seems, and worse--her sandals are stepping in snow.
"Oh, Gods..." she murmurs, under her breath. "Where am I?"
Name: Helen of Troy (it always seems so ~dramatic~ to type that name out, haha)
Fandom: Greek mythology
Media: general myth/epic poem/oral and written tradition/etc
Typist: mycenaes aka Louisa
Other relevant info: Helen is taken from the end of the Trojan War, and so she's probably going to be a little...shaken up. Gentleness is appreciated, at least perhaps for the first thread? Might be best, heh. Then you folks can do your worst in the later threads, because I'm a terrible and mean typist. >:D Oh, and the title of the post is taken from an excellent Margaret Atwood poem entitled "Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing".
The first commenter acts as a welcoming committee. All following interactions are deemed later in the day, when the character is settled.
She hears the door to her room open--somehow, the flames haven't touched the room she once shared with Paris--and it is Menelaus, her former husband, sweaty from the heat (and, she supposes, the strain of killing innocent townsfolk).
"I should kill you right now," he says, and shakes his sword at her. Helen does not move at first. Instead of falling and weeping, or (gods forbid!) trying to fight back, she stays still, like when she was a little girl, playing hide and seek.
Menelaus steps forward. Helen does the one thing she knows will save her--she opens up her top, baring one of her breasts.
Then, in actuality, it is Menelaus who falls and weeps, overcome with--what? Her beauty? His longing for his wife? She does not know.
All she knows it that it has saved her from death. At heart, Helen is a survivor.
She lets the moment linger, then closes her top and for some reason (as if expecting a blow anyway) she shuts her eyes.
When she opens them, it is cold.
Helen is standing outside on a lawn, facing a large house whose design looks nothing like anything she's seen in Sparta or Troy. Her clothes are no match for the weather, it seems, and worse--her sandals are stepping in snow.
"Oh, Gods..." she murmurs, under her breath. "Where am I?"
Name: Helen of Troy (it always seems so ~dramatic~ to type that name out, haha)
Fandom: Greek mythology
Media: general myth/epic poem/oral and written tradition/etc
Typist: mycenaes aka Louisa
Other relevant info: Helen is taken from the end of the Trojan War, and so she's probably going to be a little...shaken up. Gentleness is appreciated, at least perhaps for the first thread? Might be best, heh. Then you folks can do your worst in the later threads, because I'm a terrible and mean typist. >:D Oh, and the title of the post is taken from an excellent Margaret Atwood poem entitled "Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing".
The first commenter acts as a welcoming committee. All following interactions are deemed later in the day, when the character is settled.