Chapter Text
1824 AD
Aspasia reappeared with Elpis standing in front of her.
“Well?” She looked around nervously. “Is everything in order? Are we ready to go?”
“Yes,” Elpis smiled softly, reigning in her relief to see Aspasia again, “and the journey has shortened significantly too. And a lot of other things changed, more than usual, I’ll tell you all about it, but right now we have to go or the ship will leave without us.”
And so they found themselves on a ship sailing to the New World. It was not a very glamorous journey. Elpis kept subtly teasing Aspasia with ‘I told you so’ looks whenever the other was particularly unhappy about the dry bread and dirty water dinner combo.
The sailship they were on was huge. Giant white sails towered above when standing on the deck, while the inside areas were lined with damp and dark bunk rooms. Most travelling preferred being outside due to the claustrophobic feel of the small dirty bunks.
They two women were outside now, looking out onto the sea, when suddenly Aspasia let out a small laugh.
“What?” Elpis looked at her in amused suspicion.
“Just thinking about the last time we were on a ship together.”
It took a few seconds for Elpis to recall that they indeed had been on a ship together, but this was before. She looked down at the sea. Then at Aspasia.
“I tackled you off the ship. Both of us. Is that right?”
“Yep.” Aspasia laughed like it was just a small inside joke. “I have to say, your commitment was formidable. And it was all for this.” Her fingers trailed across the sundial that Elpis was wearing around her neck again. She played a bit with the string of the makeshift pendant, then her finger drew a cross on the other’s neck, the right side, close to where it slopes down to her shoulder. Elpis drew a sharp breath.
“Go on.”
Aspasia’s left hand slowly moved dark hair away, her right hand came to rest on the other’s shoulder, and she gently kissed the spot. Nothing more, nothing less. Elpis shivered a bit, and Aspasia took off her cloak and covered her with it.
Two children ran past them shouting something at each other, but Aspasia couldn’t understand. She was going to ask Elpis to translate but her expression seemed to indicate it wasn’t anything nice. She looked back out onto the ocean instead.
“Hey look, the sun is starting to set. How pretty.”
“You’re right, with the ocean reflecting it, it looks twice as big. I don’t think I have ever seen a sunset from a ship.”
“Really? A first? That must be rare for an immortal.”
“Well, I don’t think I would have realised if you hadn’t pointed it out.”
“I don’t believe you. I am certain you have written many poems about sunsets.”
Elpis, desperate to remember this moment, was taking note of every detail so she could indeed write a poem about it later.
So they watched the sunset, then the stars for a bit, and then went to sleep.
Then thirty or so days later, when they were close but not quite there yet to their destination, their sleep was interrupted by a severe sudden thunderstorm.
There was only one survivor.
1825
“I’m going to break it.”
Elpis turned around and saw the pegasus was standing very close to her.
“Right now. You’ll die with her. How poetic is that?”
“No.”
“No?” The air became tense.
“No. You don’t get to decide. I’m not done yet.”
“How dare you refuse my help?” The pegasus glowed brighter.
“I am not done.” Elpis seethed. “I’m not finished. You can come back for me once I’m done writing her legacy.”
The pegasus folded its wings and pinned its ears back. “Fine.”
Elpis woke up choking on water. She had washed up on a beach, unconscious, looking like a corpse. The second she was able to take a normal breath and form an intelligent thought the memories of the shipwreck came back, and with them came an immense feeling of emptiness.
She briefly wished she was dead.
But instead of calling for the strange dream deity again, she gave herself one day to regret. To remember that last moment when her shaking finger reached up to draw a small cross right above Aspasia’s eyebrows. How Aspasia had let out a muffled sob and nodded. And how with tears blurring her vision, Elpis kissed her love on her forehead.
She had never allowed herself to regret before. Regret was torture for an immortal. This time she allowed herself just a little. She had been right and yet took them on that ship anyway.
Then the next morning came, and she entered the New World with a new purpose. She was going to make sure that Aspasia’s art was in ancient civilisation museums and modern galleries alike. That not just trees, but entire forests, are planted in her name. That every stray cat she comes across is taken care of. She would continue until she was satisfied that Aspasia was properly remembered, and then she would call on the pegasus to break her curse.
2024 AD
One of the part-time staff at the museum leaned in and said in a low voice: “I feel like I have seen her before.”
His coworker looked up from her phone at the woman gazing up at the grand 18th century shipwreck. Her long black hair was covering the back of her old fashioned dress.
“Oh yeah, haven’t you heard?” The coworker shared excitedly: “Comes in once every year, exactly on this day. Stares at that specific shipwreck, gives a huge donation, and leaves.”
“No way.”
“Yeah way. Last year we dared Miles to ask her about it, but he refused to tell us what she’d said. Was all spooked and everything.”
“Oh, she seems kinda sad.”
“I don’t know. More like pensive. Surely you wouldn’t come back here so many times if it didn’t bring some sort of fulfilment.”
“Maybe someone from her family died in that shipwreck?”
“From 1824?”
“Yeah it’s a little odd. Hey, aren’t they not supposed to touch anything?” He made a move towards the woman, whose fingers were resting gently on the side of the shipwreck, but his coworker held him back. “Let her be.”
The woman smiled, as her hand dropped from the ship she seemed to remember where she was again. She went up to the donation box and hesitated. There was an option to sign or leave a message with bigger donations, but she had never used it before. She quickly wrote something down, and left.
The two coworkers rushed to the box.
“What does it say?”
She carefully took out the donation slip and read: “For Aspasia. Till death let us reunite.”