Aphrodite Incarnate: A DancingRave’nGirl Fanfic
By: Atara Themis
Writing Prompt: Yes
Date: 18th Feb 2022
Full lips and Mediterranean tongue give shape to scented words…
…A honeyed rasp, divine and titillating voice gives them sound.
…no more and no less.
From blackened screens they permeate air and tingle in ears…
…they beckon her flock.
Her flock takes heed and perches themselves in front of those technological wonders of their choosing and as was promised them for their adulation, light breathed life into color and manifested The Goddess’ visage. Her silhouette, framed by the light of what seemed like Apollo’s sun, stood center the cockle shell that brought her from the depths of the sea and around the Goddess those creatures most sacred to her fluttered wings ecstatically as if in their own praise.
Kypris made flesh, Aphrodite Incarnate, the Goddess Atara Themis stared back at them all with Aegean orbs that could consume the most courageous and skilled of sailors in their depths. The plump pink flesh of her mouth curled into a siren’s grin and with divine grace, a champion’s poise, a bare foot moved forward and she stepped down onto the golden dias her throne did sit. Via the wonder of TV magic, where her feet landed, flowers and grass would spring forth. A waste of digital artistry, her faithful were ensnared wholly by a never wavering gaze. Slow and methodical, she slinked downward and her throat bubbled to her mouth the ambrosia of her voice.
“Such a venerable occasion as Valentine’s wouldn’t be complete without her who’s domain is all matters of that beating organ in your chest now would it be Doves?” Atara’s purred and took another step.
“Without she who’s minion fires his arrows true and through on her whim and brings all of you that thing you crave most?” she continued descending.
“She, who when happy and pleased, kindles the fire of loins the world over and ensures none of her beloved spend the holiday alone or in sorrow.” A final step and Atara was removed from the dias and the scene around here swirled and twirled, metamorphosing into a different place entirely. Behind her now was gone the architectural genius of her native home and was replaced instead with the intricate and mind blowing designs of a people further east. A place where the very manual on how to love and be loved was written, India.
So to did change her wardrobe, the near translucent linen of a Grecian chemise changing to the opalescent sheen of a myriad of pearl necklaces covering her modesty.
“She, who when angered rips from you all that is desired and makes it her obsession to see you plunged into darkest despair?” She hissed as her feet carried across stone and beneath the arch of a domed roof. Water came to view, a pool, and against the darkened water stood in contrast the vibrance of floating lotus.
“Thank fate she is most happy as of now, her own heart full of joy and her more primal desires fulfilled near nightly. Your goddess wishes to take nothing and instead….will share in her good fortunes and spread that love she’s found to even her enemies.” Atara offered from behind a vexatious grin.
Submerging a foot into the water at her front, it rippled gently with the contour of Atara’s near naked frame as she took a leisurely position on the surface beneath. Veiled now, those with weaker sensibilities could breathe easy.
“On the subject of enemies…” she started while toying with passing lotus with her finger.
“….Hello Skittles. Our Queen, Lady of the House of M, living inspiration and legend in women’s wrestling. A barrier breaker for women like me and a real role model for those who will come after.”
“Hello Michelle…I hear Valentine’s could possibly be a sore subject for you this year and so instead of dragging this apparent lackluster love life through mud for cheap heat I have orchestrated all this specifically for you. A homage of sorts to uplift the spirits and hopefully bestow upon you some advice to turn luck back to your favor,” Atara said with a flourish of her hand to emphasize the scenery around her.
“How, you ask? Take a look and think, Dove. Think back to our time together in Fade 2 Black. The first Michelle Moore promo I saw, that piece that brought you into eye…it took place in a bath much like this. Well, yours was a bit more gaudy to be honest and lacked the same ambience as this but that’s besides the point,” she shrugged.
“You sat there in all your Margot Robbie glory and grabbed our attention by the horns and proclaimed yourself queen, the woman to be beat and for a brief time you actually were. Naturally I came along and stole your shine but that is also beside the point. Your word carried weight and you were a legitimate threat. I lost to you and have no shame in admitting so.” Atara put matter of factly.
“You earned my respect and were one of the small reasons I decided to come to Fight. By small, I do not mean short Dove. It was mostly James Raven and a fat check….mostly James.”
“Ok it was definitely all James. I’ll jump a boat and follow that…oh right sorry. Boats are a sensitive subject too. Anywho…why India? Well, it’s a beautiful country with a vibrant culture and steeped in history. I learned to belly dance here, bathed in the Ganges, got in touch with my inner peace and came to New York a happier person. I’ve had gold draped around my waist for months now and it doesn’t look to be slowing for me professionally or privately.”
“I think it could do the same for you. If it’s not your cup of tea, coffee…whatever. Don’t worry, I know a mantra for whatever ails you, Dove and being it’s Valentine’s…let the Goddess fix that love life.
“For 21 days, 108 times a day, repeat this mantra and according to belief relationship troubles are solved. I don’t advise doing this with the kiddo around. Nice secluded place where Lauren can overhear and ask dumb ass questions.”
“Om Kamadevaya Vidmahe, Rati Priyaye Dhimahi, Tanno Ananga Prachodayat.”
“Did you get it? Hope so. Does it work? I have no idea. I’m effin Aphrodite Incarnate, don’t need spells. Just will my wishes into existence. Still champion, got the GOAT on my arm, endorsements, TV, just name it. Following your example, Dove, not even breaking a sweat and still serving bitch pudding..
Some hours after Blood Money, freshly removed from a bath, Atara Themis stood amidst the steam filling the bathroom of her hotel suite. Towel in hand, the Grecian dried her beaten and sore body while eyeing it’s reflection in a smeared mirror and reflected on the last few hours of events at Blood Money.
She had walked in a champion and Atara had walked out a champion. Despite the minor inconvenience that had come with her newfound gold, there was little for the Goddess to be displeased with at her own fortunes and besides, she had never aimed to win anyhow. Even with management’s attempts to make it all seem paramount to her career’s future, the general lack of information provided to properly prepare. Even after having to stand solo against the cry baby cunt coteries, Atara had walked in and walked out with the only thing she cared about. Fight! NYC and wrestling could fuck itself as far as she was concerned. James Raven was just in the other room.
His name uttered within the confines of her mind brought a smile to Atara’s face and turning from her mirror the Grecian sauntered into the main room of their shared suite. Aegean blue orbs found James sat slouched at the end of the bed attentively nursing his knee with an ice pack but otherwise lost in his own world. He hadn’t noticed Atara’s entry and it was no doubt in her mind he was doing his own self reflecting. Stripped down to only that which covered his modesty, Atara saw every bruise, cut and scrape. She had her own wounds and knew he was sore and tired and had noticed James was being broodingly quiet on the way to the room making his dissatisfaction with himself apparent. Atara knew the mood, James’ friends called it James being James before shrugging it off and sinking into their own self absorbed bubbles. Leaving him to fester in thought. Not her.
Dropping her towel, Atara broke James from his reverie and watched with self satisfaction as his eyes trailed up the entirety of her naked figure. She smiled and returned a grin once their gaze had finally met before sliding towards him and slinking her legs between his. A hand cupped the back of James’ head and held it gently against the flat of her stomach and the two kept the embrace in quiet but for a few moments.
“A hundred wounds and a hundred more. I’ll nurse them all…forever more,” Atara murmured using her vantage to take full account of the damage James had taken. It was their profession, she knew, but the sight still stirred a notorious Greek rage within her. The names tied to each bump and bruise did little to curb it either. Atara hated them each at that moment.
“Clever girl,” James chuckled, sliding his free hand up the back of Atara’s thigh and giving a squeeze. “I’ll try and not keep you busy.”
Already at the sight of this classicist’s dream come to life, the signals had been fired to her south and with the sensation of James’ touch the flood gates had all but opened.
“Here…let me,” Atara purred carefully, and she knelt before him, taking the ice pack in one hand and massaging the opposite thigh with her other. James would lean back with a lazy sigh and every bump, curve, and bulge, was sprawled like a horizon for Atara’s viewing pleasure.
Another view moments passed in silence as Atara tended to her patient. A little wanton for some bedsport, a little curious as to what was going on in his head, she was a mix of thoughts and a little apprehensive of which approach to take. The longer she held that ice pack however the more Shawn and Sebastian faces came to mind and nudged Atara to breach the subject.
“Did Shawn–” She tried before being quickly cut off with a wave of a hand.
“No Atty, maybe in the morning we can talk about it. Little tired is all…” was James’ poor subtle attempt at deflecting. Inadvertently he answered. It wasn’t Shawn, she was sure he would have blasted Twitter or James phone roasting him. Effin Sebastian.
“Give me some Atty facts.”
A little dejected, Atara jutted out her bottom lip in an unseen pout. It hurt a little and she hated being blocked out for any reason. The urge to protest had already begun to rise but as much as she wanted to stomp and throw tantrums, past experiences had tempered her…temper. Instead James’ words echoed in her mind. Clever girl. If he wouldn’t vent then she would spin a little pep talk in the fashion known of her.
“Have you ever heard the story of Egyptian god Osiris and how his wife brought him back from the land of the dead?” She posed softly. Her free hand that had been on his thigh slid up it’s length as Atara stood and leaned over the bed’s foot so her torso hovered a hair’s breadth from James’ own body.
James chin lowered and he looked at his lecturer silently with an arched brow, his expression blatantly expectant.
His was met with Atara’s equally ludic tone and as she prowled up his torso to come face to face it only amplified. Beneath her she felt him becoming more lively by the second.
“The James Raven of Egypt. A god king.” Placing a kiss on his forehead, Atara slid down.
“He was the life giver, everything he touched moved into motion,” a peck on the nose was given.
“God of Righteous kingship…of the natural order. All was right and balanced under his reign.” Her lips found his and the two exchanged before Atara continued on.
“A beautiful wife…Isis, who I l played on television if you remembered,” the reminder came with a kiss on his chest.
“Naturally, the those closest to him..his brother Set, would grow envious and in collusion with the other gods they murdered him.” Atara’s rhythm would be interrupted by a seemingly aggravated grunt but she paid no mind and planted her lips to the other side of his chest.
“Set would cut Osiris’ body to pieces and in order to prevent Isis from finding her husband, spread them all across Egypt.” words were followed by lips at James’ abdomen that lingered longer than the previous.
“But she would find him, all of him and all the wounds Set had made she set back into order. All but one…” Atara trailed, smiling wolfishly creeping further down. Fingers found themselves beneath a waistband that unrelentingly went with her.
“But undismayed…she crafted one out of clay and with her mouth…blew life back into….”
The Goddess and her pool would vanish instantaneously at the word blam and plummeted her viewers screens back to that world of blackened chaos. But it was only a second before her voice rang out from the void once more.
“Hark, hark! I hear! The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry Cock-a-diddle-dow,” she chimed and giggled as the world was illuminated again. Perched high on an ivy covered balcony the Goddess now stood. Brown locks splayed down her back like drapery and shimmered beneath the white glow of the moon even higher than her.
From the vantage, Atara looked down to her audience and beamed a maiden’s smile.
“Hello Brandon. Confused as to what that was? Seriously we can’t tell, you protect us so well from that fuggin ugly noogin behind the mask. Or do we not do that anymore? Doesn’t matter. It was Shakespeare,” Atara informed excitedly while leaning against the barrister.
“A song, I think, Cry, a cock-a-doodle doo,” she paused to think before shrugging and continuing.
“Honestly Brandon, unlike your baby mama, I really don’t pay enough attention to you or yours to know enough about your wah wah story to give any advice in the Romeo & Juliet department. Might have done me some good at Blood Money if I had uh? Guess you’re a pretty teacher in that regard and the few times I haven’t nodded off during one your….rants, it always sounded very poetic. I didn’t understand it so I suppose on the mic you’re a regular Billy Shakespeare. Possibly the best compliment I could give anyone. How that helps you in the ring, I again have no idea so I wouldn’t advise jumping between dueling enemies and effin costing them their titles again…got it Mercutio!” Atara finished and had started to skip to exit stage left before spinning on heel suddenly.
“Oh, whoever your graphics guy is. Super talented. You got a good eye. Toodles.”
Warren Island, NY
“Skata sta moutra gamiménos psychikós tromokrátis!” Her typical rasp gone, it was instead replaced with an angry shrill aimed towards the heavens. An animated and very agitated Atara Themis darted back and forth on one of the balconies of her Warren Island residence. Already she had almost yeeted her phone into the distance, possibly reaching the marina her property sat near. Having just gotten news of the Venom card’ The Goddess was not pleased.
An early New York morning, the crisp morning had gone largely ignored as Atara raged back and forth in just bed clothes. A new house, she wasn’t aware how well her voice traveled and assumed herself largely alone and let her frustration out fully. Some pots may have been broken, a few lounge chairs turned over, a light may have been smacked off the wall. What was for sure was that Fight! NYC booking had been doomed to every curse Atara had heard as a child and she was fully intent on hooking a GPS to the dreaded evil eye so it could stare them dead while sitting on the shitter.
Teaming with Betsy was one thing, teaming with James and Betsy was entirely another. Johnny Hitmaker, her manager, had already been berated until both his brains exploded. All three of her sisters had been phoned, she might have even called the Greek embassy. Oblivious to how long she had actually been outside, rage eventually blew over and the chill started to bite. Atara had racked her brain on how to get out of it but everything was road blocked and it only added to the frustration. Near in tears when the cold made its final hint for her to go inside, Atara let out a final banshee scream and turned only to be met with a startled and confused James Raven.
“I don’t think you can scare the weather to change dear,” he offered with typical James charm, a charm Atara typically always succumbed to. Ineffectual this round, she crossed her arms and tried to stomp by like a spoiled child only to be caught in his arms.
“Let me go, it’s cold.” She snapped.
“No shit Sherlock,” he retorted. Arm on her shoulder James led Atara and once in the warmth past the threshold pulled her in again.
“It’s malaka! It’s…It’s not an effin game for a ratings spike!” Her muffled voice sounded bouncing off his chest.
“Hey…hey..it’s the business, remember.”
Like a tranquilizer into a hippo, he played on a sentiment and reiterated advice given years ago. It was a bullseye, Atara immediately loosened and returned James’ embrace.
“It’s not right. It’s her fault. It’s not business related.” She stressed only to receive no response. The silence caused her to peek up at him. Her gaze wasn’t immediately returned either and Atara felt her face start to fill with heated blood.
“It’s just a match Atara.”
“She’s Persephone, James.”
Amused, James scoffed and loosened his hold so as to meet Atara eye to eye.
“I doubt there will be wild boars in a heart shaped box match Atty. It’s twenty minutes tops and you, me, Taylor are all off to Greece away from it all. Relax. I’m the brooder.”
At the mention of Tylor, James’ son, Atara’s mood did a 180 and angst was replaced with excitement.
“She said yes!” Atara shouted, jumping up and down and grabbing hold of James again.
“It took a little convincing, but yes.
Little James, her biggest fan so she had been told. Atara had been dying to finally meet him and the news he was coming with for apokries…well it washed all away concern over Betsy. Tylor was one of the few pieces of James’ life Atara had yet to be able to experience or even heard a great deal of and to be honest she had thought the idea of his coming was a long shot. Notorious homewrecker, the Greek Bitch Atty was never a big hit with exes. Especially exes with children.
Ecstatic, her mind raced and a list of things James’ son might need or they might need for him scrolled her brain. Teaching him some Greek, making sure he didn’t thumbs up anyone, telling him not to freak if people pretend to spit on him. So much to do.
“Oh my god! The t-shirts!” Atara blurted her face painted in a new found realization.
“T-shirt?” James asked.
“Remember! I said I would get him t-shirts! I don’t have any here. I got to go to Queens…” she stammered heading this time into a panicked tirade. Beckoning James to follow, Atara had already thrown coat on and grabbed keys before she was grabbed and pulled back abruptly.
“Hey. He’s not here yet and you didn’t put on shoes. Calm down…”
At toodles another scene transition followed with movie know how and that Renaissance balcony shapeshifted in morphed into the neon hued window rattling bass ambience of Club Lex in New York. Hedonistic revelry was all about as the cities youth danced in time with music, imbibed in the mind numbing flavors of the bar or let loose all kinds of raucous at the pool.
The Goddess was no different and in full Go Go girl regalia stood center in one of two podiums on opposite sides of the pool. Bronzed skin sparkled with glitter and sweat and she was oblivious to on camera and her viewing public. Twisting, twirling, gyrating, p-popping, hopping, booty shaking, gone was The Goddess and very much here was Dancing Rave’n Girl.
Low and behold, in a nearby booth watching ever attentively was…James Raven. The two of them were VIP guests and luckily so for it was the keen eyed center of Atty’s world that took notice of the camera and her neglected public. He approached the podium to wave Atara over and reminded her she wasn’t here just for pleasure.
Wide eyed and with cheek to cheek teeth baring grin she spun on heel. Leaning over the railing, the Goddess bumped into the lens before her brows crunched and she went back to James. Music muffled the majority of the conversation but experienced lip readers could see she had clearly asked which one and James mouthed back to Paul.
Back to the camera and back to bubbly excited 160 BPM Atty, she waved manically.
“Hey Paul! I effin love your brother! Your solucky!”
With two Greek thumbs up she returned to the party and the camera nonchalantly focused on James. Opening his jacket, to reveal a P. Mont t-shirt where those luscious locks had been replaced with a Mr. Clean sheen baldness. James winked and blew a final kiss before the final fade to black concluded this promo.
While the picture was gone the sound remained and a voice shouts.
“I think her water broke!”
Over the Atlantic
After Venom, an exhausted Atara Themis sits between James and his son. Barely able to keep her eyes open she leans her head against his shoulder and before drifting to sleep whispers into his ear.