you always feared god-born achilles, the most divine of all your fellows. his divinity wove him better, quicker, stronger. well, here's a secret for you: my father was a swan, and the monthly blood on my thighs is two parts ichor. you think achilles...
Your beauty makes them weak. You could tear down cities with your smile, and you have.
Helen of Troy, of Sparta, of Paris, of Menelaus.
Helen of war, of blood, of death, of beauty.
- AUTHOR UNKNOWN.
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The sound of clicking heels gracefully dancing against the tiled floor echoed through the long hallway. One couldn't help but notice the gold stained curves in the molding, sending a metallic shine to caress the overall white glow of the room. Nora stepped into the room, a folder pressed against her satin pencil skirt, dark hair in a neat tussle of curls that framed her marble features, giving her the appearance of a living Grecian statue. Her small hand tapped a soft song against the door, her plump lips curved into a serious frown.
Her father revolved around to see his daughter standing in the door, her thick lashes framing her cerulean hues like the spine of a butterfly versus its wings. She took her clasped fist and dropped it by her side, pushing her bang to the side, covering one of her brightly azure stained eyes.
"May I come in?" She replied gently, catching a glimpse of the screen he was currently skyping a future business partner on. Her pearly white teeth tore gently into her rose painted lips, waiting for an answer.
"Of course, as this business is as much of yours as it is mine, dearest." Her father replied with a carefully placed series of soft coughs, muted by the sound of her heels entering the room. The view she noted from the meeting room gave a quick glance to the stucco roof that was outside, and the sandy beaches of Évora, Portugal. She sat by her father's side, as he sat at the head of the table, and she took the chair to his left, facing the screen.
"Nora, I want you to meet Moria Queen, and when we arrive in Starling City, you will meet her son, Oliver."
Nora gave a glance to the older woman on the screen, at her perfected blonde curls, the black pantsuit (she assumed), her cyan eyes boring into her as if to tear her apart. The dark brunette flipped her head quickly as to knock her hair from her eyes, and huffed quietly.
"Oliver is settling in from a rather long... vacation." Moria explained, as Nora held up a finger, murmuring a soft swear in Portuguese.
"He spent five years on an island after a shipwreck. Yes, I know about that, as you should expect. My father and I simply don't do business with everyone, and those that we do, we look into as much as we can so we can expect what is to come from our... affairs. Is that a problem?" The young girl corrected, raising her perfectly arched brows.
Granted, Nora hadn't been able to find out what had occurred on that island in those five years, but she had dug up a bit... much on Oliver's affairs beforehand.
