Work Text:
Tara glanced up as Charlie peeked his head into her office. She recognized that look on his face. “What exciting adventure do you have for us now?” she said, laughing as she rolled her eyes. The two had bonded when they started working archiving together, quickly connecting their significant others so the four of them could double date, even developing a bit of a competition to never repeat the same outing twice. Charlie prided himself on unique events.
His eyes glinted with excitement at his find, and Tara could only laugh. “Out with it already.”
“They have 3D printed recreations of the Pompeii forms at the Natural History museum.”
“3D forms?”
“They scanned the casts made at the excavation, to allow museums to exhibit them without disturbing the site.”
“That sounds… depressing?” Tara ventured. “Darcy is going to love it.”
“Great!” Charlie responded. “I'll send you the address and Nick and I will meet you and Darce there tomorrow.”
The museum was exactly as Tara had pictured it - depressing and yet morbidly fascinating. She couldn't help but wonder at these figures, trapped in time. What had their lives been like that fateful day? Tara peered at the card next to a life-size form of two figures clutching each other.
“Drusilla and handmaid”
Although records are sparse, this figure is thought to be Drusilla, a wealthy widow famous for bucking the patriarchal norms of the Roman empire. Her renowned beauty was rivaled only by her scorn of potential suitors and refusal to remarry.
🐈⬛🐈⬛🐈⬛
Tertia woke with an unexplained foreboding - a dark shadow was upon her soul. Drusilla’s soft curls lay about her face, which was of itself a vision of beauty. The soft breathing of sleep escaped her lips, reminiscent of the sighs she had elicited the evening prior. A shiver overcame Tertia as she remembered, and she let the wave pass through her body followed by the flush of arousal as she remembered Drusilla’s hands caressing her breasts.
To the rest of the world she may be a lowly handmaiden, third daughter of a common soldier, taking up residence and work at Drusilla’s household, but when the lanterns dimmed in the evening there were no classes or ranks between them.
She jumped as a black cat skated across the room, knocking over the washing station and spilling water everywhere. She clicked her teeth at the dual omens. The gods surely had something odious in store this day to combine two bad omens. Best to clean this up before Dru awoke.
“Tertia? Are you awake?” Drusilla's voice was a melody that sung in Tertia's ears, but what really made her heart sing was the mischievous glint in her eyes and her biting and clever sense of humor.
“I should clean this up - the gods are mad today.”
“The gods have been mad every day I chose not to take a husband, and the gods will remain mad until I die,” Drusilla laughed, pulling Tertia towards her on top of the pile of soft cloths.
“The wash basin has spilled inside the house,” Tertia protested weakly, allowing herself to be drawn down, encompassed in her kisses.
“Then we let the stones be damp, and pray for further wetness.” Drusilla’s voice was muffled as she trailed her lips along Tertia’s neck, sucking and nipping until all thought of leaving the sleeping pallet was gone.
A low rumble filled the air, and stones clattered down in the courtyard outside.
“The mountains rumble - more signs of the gods’ discontent,” Drusilla whispered as her hand slipped under Tertia's robes, her fingers brushing her most sensitive spots.
Time quickly lost all meaning as the two celebrated each other's bodies, forsaking the world around them. After they stilled again, exhausted and content, Tertia carried bread and wine from the storage room, and they broke their fast contentedly.
A second, stronger rumbling shook the buildings, and a cry escaped Tertia's lips as an eerie orange glow filled the sky. “Truly the gods are mad,” she whispered, her fear heightened by the fright she saw echoed in her lover's eyes.
Drusilla took Tertia's head in her hands and pressed their forehead together. “Whatever the gods have in store, we face them together. We are goddesses in our own right.”
The orange light through the window faded and the mid-morning sky turned black as night. A stifling, scorching heat filled the room as the two clasped and held each other, desperate to feel the other through the ash-filled air. Tertia pulled a scarf quickly over their heads to keep the ash from their mouths but the air was an oven, and they didn't have long.
“I am yours and you are mine,” Tertia whispered, as she felt Drusilla shudder and gasp in her arms, and then she closed her eyes and let go.
🗻🗻🗻
The evening was quiet as Tara looked over at Darcy's tired form, her blonde hair splayed out over the pillow. “You are beautiful,” she whispered, and felt the thrill of the rush as Darcy reciprocated. How had she ever been so lucky?
“What are you thinking, Jones?” Darcy whispered.
Tara hummed. “Just lost in thought. I can't get one of the castings out of my mind.”
“The Drusilla one?” Darcy asked, her voice hushed but face knowing.
“Yes!” Tara gasped. “It was haunting and yet it felt… I don't know how it felt. But something about it resonated with me.”
As she climbed into their bed she grabbed a colorful silk scarf to protect her curls. The scarf pillowed around them, floating in the air and briefly covering their faces, and a shiver ran down her spine
“Is everything ok?” Darcy asked.
“Just someone stepping on my grave, I guess,” Tara said, tying the scarf and allowing herself to sink into Darcy's arms.”
To spend a lifetime with Darcy was all she ever needed, as she buried her face into the soft skin below Darcy’s ear. “I'm yours, and you are mine,” she whispered. “In this lifetime and in all our lifetimes.”