Born in Beauty

by Melody Rose

  “While many people know Athena for her wisdom, her tactics, and her battle strategy…” Gwendolyn began with a small giggle. Benji and I shared a look, instantly agreeing that this teacher was going to be ridiculously annoying. I had a second thought, wondering how the hell a cinnamon roll like her could have passed any of the physical training required for soldiers of the Military. “Athena is also the goddess of creativity, which is what we are going to be working on this semester. We will also be studying the history of Grecian art. Now, today is going to be all about testing your basic knowledge.”

  Gwendolyn spread out her arms as if conducting an orchestra. “There will be no judgment here. This is different from your other classes at the Academy. Here, we are all about your learning technique and history, yes, but I recognize that not everyone is talented in the arts. So as long as you are consistently trying your best, you will pass.”

  The two first years nodded enthusiastically while one second year with a gap-toothed smile stared at Gwendolyn as though she were speaking to the girl’s soul.

  “Does anyone happen to know one of the first Greek artists to study human anatomy for the purposes of sculpting?” Gwendolyn quizzed us.

  Three names popped into my head after a couple of seconds of thought. When no one else raised their hands, I dared to lift mine in the air.

  “Yes?” Gwendolyn said with a delighted chirp as she pointed to me.

  “Praxiteles, Skopas, and Lysippos,” I recited, making sure to put the emphasis on the correct syllables of these difficult Greek names.

  Gwendolyn’s face lit up like a flower blooming in the spring. “Correct. Well done…” she trailed off, letting me fill in my name.

  “Cheyenne, daughter of Hephaestus,” I said monotonously.

  “I use that question to sift out the Greek historians of the group,” the teacher said with a little giggle that made me feel like I’d just stepped into a faerie’s trap rather than answered a simple question. “Surprising that a daughter of Hephaestus would get that right.”

  My mouth opened in shock, and my eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Did she just… backhandedly compliment me? I looked over at Benji for confirmation, who looked dubiously of this daughter of Athena. I quickly deciphered that this teacher was much more than the giggling fool she wanted everything to think she was.

  “We are going to be focusing on the human form, just like those great sculptors did,” Gwendolyn announced. “Now, I don’t expect any of you to get this right on the first try, not unless any of you have the Muses for mothers?”

  When no one answered, she continued. “I didn’t think so. Well, to begin, I want to see your style, your voice, come through on the page. Try your best to draw our subject as accurately as you can.”

  My brain tripped up on her words. Our subject? If we were studying human anatomy, did that mean…?

  Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to put the pieces together. A tittering rippled around the room at the anticipation made the air grow thin. I closed my eyes and wanted to fall over dead right then and there.

  Please gods, no, I prayed.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and it creaked open.

  “Are you ready for me, Gwendolyn?” Zach said as he peeked his head in.

  “Absolutely, come on in Zach,” Gwendolyn invited the Gi leader into the classroom.

  Zach stepped through the door, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. His bare feet slapped on the concrete floor, and he jumped up on the block with Gwendolyn, giving her a hug as he did so.

  “It’s so good to see you again,” he said in her ear. Then he pulled away and waved at the class with that award-winning smile. “Hi, everyone.”

  A few people said hi back, whereas most of us were too stunned to speak. I chanced a glance at Benji, who had gone completely white as if he’d turned into a ghost. I couldn’t catch his eye because my friend could not stop staring at his branch leader.

  “Zachariah has graciously agreed to come in and help us today,” Gwendolyn informed us. “You will have the rest of the class period to sketch him.”

  “We’re going to be…” Benji coughed, interrupting his sentence. “We’re going to be drawing him?”

  “Yes,” Gwendolyn blinked at Benji, looking more like a doll than ever before. “Is there a problem?”

  “Nope,” Benji said, though the word got lodged in his throat and came out as a croak.

  “Great.” The daughter of Athena clapped her hands together and hopped off the block. “Zachariah is going to position himself, and once he’s ready, you all will begin drawing. After you, Zach.”

  With that invitation, Zach didn’t hesitate. He whipped off the robe in one fluid movement. Within a blink, Zach was covered, and the next, he was completely exposed.

  Heat rushed to my cheeks as Zach turned this way and that, uncaring that a dozen eyes were staring at every inch of his naked body and would be doing so for the next couple of hours. Finally, Zach decided on his position. Which just happened to be directly facing Benji and me, showing off in all his glory.

  “I’m ready,” Zach announced with a wicked smile.

  “I’m not,” I grumbled. I saw Benji shake his head in solidarity.

  “Alright, everyone,” Gwendolyn called out. “Pencils ready! Annnnd draw!”

  10

  “I thought I was going to die,” I complained to Ruby as I smacked down with the hammer.

  I was back in the brand new forge on campus. It had been constructed at the end of last year, and it was a blacksmith’s heaven. The vast space was open and provided lots of room for forging. There were also multiple stations that students could work on their projects, in the classes Ruby taught. It was constantly supplied with various types of metals, along with several kinds of wood and synthetics to use for making handles. Along the walls were grinders and power hammers. The light from the summer afternoon beamed in from the high windows in the ceiling.

  I stood at my favorite forge, which was the closest to the workbench. That let Ruby watch while I worked, and I didn’t have to shout across the workspace. While the power hammers were nice to use when one was in a hurry, I had all the time during this work shift, so I pounded away with my own hammer, swinging away. We didn't have any new assignments. It was still early in the year for that.

  I relished in the freedom to just create. To let a piece of metal speak to me so I could shape it into the weapon that it was destined to become. My ear rang with the consistent clanging of metal on metal as I slammed into a piece of yellow hot iron. I hadn’t quite figured out the full shape of this one yet, but no matter what I did, I had to get the piece thin enough in order to do anything with it.

  Ruby sat on a stool by the workbench with a glass of iced tea sweating in her hand. She ran her free hand through her short gray hair and then tucked it into the top pocket of her overalls. The blacksmith reached over, her lips searching for the straw, so she didn’t have to raise the glass.

  Unfortunately, my mentor suffered from Parkinson's. Her shakes had gotten worse even just over the last year. We’d made a deal early on that I would secretly make all of the armor and weapons requests from the school, under her supervision.

  We formed our own language, without ever needing to talk about her shakes or weakened state. It helped that I was an expert blacksmith already. Ruby knew I didn’t really need her guidance. I could have done all the projects on my own, but I continued to insist on her help because, at the very least, I enjoyed her company.

  Ruby took a long sip from her drink before she slapped her lips together in satisfaction. “I liked that class when they had the female models come in.”

  “Of course you would,” I scoffed as I slammed down again on the iron.

  It was also no secret that Ruby was a full-blown lesbian and didn’t hesitate to remind me of it on a daily basis. I couldn’t care less about who she liked, but I didn’t need to hear about it so much. She was still relatively older than me, and it was weird t
o think about her sexual exploits.

  “Anyway,” I continued, breezing past her comment, “I don’t know what’s gotten into everyone. It seems like everything is sexually charged lately.”

  “Everyone or just you?” Ruby said with another slurp of her tea.

  The hammer swung down by my side as I gaped at her. “I am not… I…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an acceptable defense. I held out the hammer and pointed it at her. “You shut your mouth.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Ruby sassed back. “That’s my job, telling you what to do.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said skeptically and went back to my work.

  Throughout our conversation, the metal had grown cold. I didn’t want to risk any cracks by banging on cold steel, so I stuck the piece back into the forge which was still radiating heat.

  I left the metal in the center there to heat up and turned back to Ruby. “Gods, it’s good to be back in the forge.”

  “You’re changing the subject,” Ruby said as she waved a hand at me. “Go back to the story about the naked Gi guy.”

  “There is no story,” I protested. “I just had to try to draw his cock for three hours, and it was impossible.”

  “That big, huh?” Ruby asked, not interested so much as curious.

  “Ruby!” I chided, in the same tone that I used to scold my Mom out of embarrassment. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “No, that’s the question I want to ask you,” Ruby said as she stood. She pointed a finger at me, surprisingly steady. “What the hell has gotten into you? I never thought you to be so averse to sex, especially considering what you told me about Ansel. Which you haven’t mentioned once since you got here, by the way, which means you’re actively trying not to talk about. So stop it and spill.” She moved her fingers as if beckoning me forward.

  I rolled my eyes and looked away from her, knowing she would be able to read it in my eyes. “That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. We can’t be together, plain and simple. I’m trying to get over him and talking about him with you isn’t going to help me do that.”

  Ruby sucked her teeth. “You’re a fool.”

  “A fool?” I put my hands on my hips and stared at her. “How so?”

  “Because you’ve got a perfectly good guy who’s in love with you, and you tell me you can’t be with him because of some stupid rules.” Ruby shook her head disappointedly. “It’s a shame.”

  “In love with me?” I gawked at her. “Ansel’s not in love with me.”

  “I don’t know about you, Cheyenne, but I know love,” Ruby said as she pointed to her chest. “I’ve experienced it, and that boy looks at you the same way I used to look at my woman. You can’t let that go, girl. You just can’t.”

  “But I also can’t let any of this go,” I held up my arms and gestured around to the forge. “It’s not worth something that might happen with Ansel. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

  There was a tense silence between the two of us. It hurt to sit in it, like sitting in dry grass that got in your clothes. I didn’t know how we got here. The forge was supposed to be a safe haven for me, Ruby, a confidant. I didn’t want to be fighting with her over something so stupid, especially on my first day back.

  I took a big breath and realized that she was right. I was a fool, but not for the reason she stated. “I’m sorry,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have said anything like that.”

  “No, it’s okay, kiddo,” Ruby said softly. “I do get it. But I also hate to see you fighting with yourself like this. It’s hard to watch.”

  “It’s hard to live,” I confessed, my eyes falling to the concrete floor.

  I crossed back to the forge and pulled out my piece of iron. It glowed white-hot again, perfect for molding and bending. Even though my whole body was heat resistant, I still couldn't resist the urge to use tongs and go through the traditional motions of forging. While Esme had taught me different techniques, they were more useful for a sculptor. It didn’t satisfy me in the same way as forging did. The hammer in one hand, the tong with the steel in the other, was bliss for me.

  I caught a flutter of movement in the corner of my eye and looked up to see Ruby firing up one of the forges. I paused for a moment and looked at her curiously.

  “What are you doing?” I arched an eyebrow at her.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Ruby snapped back, though her voice returned to its playful manner. “I’m firing up a forge.”

  My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I only asked because the last time Ruby tried to forge something, her shakes attacked, and she’d accidentally burned down the previous smithy. Hence the new one.

  “I’m good. I promise,” Ruby said sincerely.

  My mentor crossed over to the collection of metals and pulled out a traditional piece of 420 steel. She weighed it in her hand and decided on it without much fanfare.

  “I’m not going to do anything special,” she explained, setting up her station. “Just a horseshoe. Especially since I know how much you hate making those.”

  “I don’t hate it,” I argued, “I just identify more as a bladesmith rather than a farrier.”

  Ruby shot me a smile. “You don’t think I know that about you?”

  “Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myself,” I said softly, regretting the honest words almost as soon as I’d said them.

  The blacksmith set her steel down on the anvil and crossed over to me. With a gentle touch, she put one hand on my shoulder to stop my constant swinging. I turned to look at her, and Ruby put her other hand to my face with a surprisingly gentle touch despite her calluses and rough skin.

  “You're damn right I do,” Ruby said, looking directly into my eyes. She slapped me a couple of times on the cheek like an affectionate grandma. “And don’t you forget it.”

  I burst out laughing as Ruby sauntered back to her station. Her forge was nice and hot now, so she slipped on a pair of gloves, something I’d never had to use in my entire career as a blacksmith, and lifted her steel into the fire.

  We worked in tandem. Our conversation ceased beyond the occasional suggestion or exclamation of triumph. The workshop filled with clanging, sizzling, and hissing as we banged, molded, and ground away. It was a comfortable working relationship we hadn’t experienced before. Because the old smithy only had one forge, we would have to take turns using it. Never had we got to forge together at the same time. I found myself watching Ruby on more than one occasion.

  Despite her age, she still swung the hammer with a strength that made me smile. She released more grunts than I did, but it didn’t matter. It delighted me to see her during this rare time of steady hands since she was a master at work.

  She was right in that she only intended to make a horseshoe, not even a full set of four. However, it was a well-shaped horseshoe with even holes and smooth edges. Any horse would have been honored to wear her work. In fact, most of the hooved creatures on campus wore horseshoes made by Ruby. She was the campus ferrier before she was the blacksmith. Still, the techniques were the same, and no one could fault her skill.

  Once she’d finished, Ruby held the horseshoe out, like a steering wheel, in front of her. “That’s a nice piece of work, right there.”

  “It is,” I agreed as I ground away at my blade.

  I still hadn’t quite decided on a design. Not consciously, anyway. I was operating on feeling, something that I rarely indulged in. I had already quenched the blade, passing the hardest part of the forging process. I stationed myself at the grinder, getting all of the rough parts out of the blade, making it as sharp as possible.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with one horseshoe?” Ruby said as she hung the thing off her finger, now disgusted with her work. “It’s not enough for a game set or a horse. No one ever makes one damn horseshoe.”

  “Hang it over the door,” I said automatically, surprising even m
yself.

  “Excuse me?” Ruby shot me a confused look. “And why would I do that?”

  “Well, this has nothing to do with Greek mythology, so I don’t know if it would work here, but it’s a superstition for good luck, especially in Irish culture,” I said, stepping back from the grinder to tell the story. “A blacksmith was visited by the devil who said he wanted his own shoes, and the blacksmith made him a pair of horseshoes for his hooves. The devil said they were so uncomfortable that he would never go near them again. If you place it face up like this,” I took the shoe and turned it so that the curved part faced downward. “Then it’s said to catch the luck dropped by others.”

  Ruby stared at me in stunned silence. I thought for a moment I’d scared her, so I took a step forward and reached out my hand. “You okay?”

  “Is there anything you don’t know?” Ruby gawked openly. “Holy Hermes, girl, you are just a well of knowledge.”

  “Just with certain things,” I said with a cheeky smile. “If it has anything to do with mythology, weapons, or blacksmithing in any way, I inhaled it as a kid.”

  “You must have been one nerdy little kid,” Ruby commented.

  Despite her obvious doubt, the blacksmith pulled over a stool. She stood on the top and nailed the horseshoe into a space over the center of the door to the smithy. The sight made me smile that even though Ruby might have doubted me, she trusted me, and it showed even in that small gesture.

  Just then, Khryseos and Argyreos popped into existence in the forge. Ruby turned around, thinking that the pops were coming from the forge. That sometimes happened, as a stray kernel would leap out of the open sides of the contraption. Instead, the daughter of Poseidon gasped and put a hand to her heart.

  “Those dogs are going to be the death of me,” Ruby exhaled. “Coming and going like they do.”

  “Sorry, Ruby,” I said with a weary voice as I crouched down to greet my dogs. However, they didn’t seem to want to be petted, which was a first for both of them. They barked at me urgently and had panicked looks in their eyes.