A flawless gown, inspired by the Muses.
The revival of ancient Greek styles and motifs in the early 20th century stemmed from the economic trends in the United States, bringing back elements like pleats, long flowing skirts, drapery, and geometric botanical patterns, all of which became synonymous with Greek aesthetics. This haute couture gown by the renowned Lebanese fashion house Zuhair Murad perfectly encapsulated these elements through its masterful use of asymmetrical pleating.
The witch donned the white silk dress, her bare shoulders softening her usually sharp and commanding presence into something as fluid as a spring lake. The smooth, flawless curve of her back peeked through the sheer fabric as it swayed, while the shimmering golden tassel necklace and matching belt infused her statuesque frame with an air of elegance and wisdom—simple yet solemn, exuding the grandeur of classical courtly aesthetics.
For once, Bayonetta had opted for a less dramatic eyeshadow, and her usual sharp, upturned eyeliner was softened. She had braided her long black hair and coiled it into a bun at the back of her head. Standing barefoot on the cool wooden floor, she hesitated for a moment in front of the shoe cabinet before selecting a pair of golden open-toe sandals. The metallic chain mimicked the design of ancient Greek lace-up sandals, and her red-painted toes wriggled playfully. She had also swapped out her usual extravagant earrings—typically adorned with platinum, sapphires, or gold—for a pair of silver, leaf-shaped ones, much simpler than her usual adornments.
"Darling, how does this one look?" She strode confidently to the sofa, hands on her hips. "And don't you dare say anything bad," she added, her tone teasing yet edged with a real warning. "Unless, of course, you want twenty new bullet holes in you."
"Alright." The mystic straightened his spine on the sofa. The long wait had left his lower back stiff and his legs numb. "This is your twentieth outfit, my dear," he sighed.
Before this, Bayonetta had tried on numerous Greek-inspired gowns, all featuring exposed shoulders, flowing drapery, and golden accessories. At first, Solomon had been able to tell the differences in their details, but eventually, he became numb to them—every outfit looked the same to him. At one point, she had even changed into something resembling Cleopatra's attire, and he hadn't even noticed—that was the nineteenth outfit! Though he hadn't consciously reacted at the time, his brain had slowly started working again, replaying what he had seen and internally setting off alarm bells.
"I think the last one—the one that looked like Elizabeth Taylor's gold-embroidered dress—was a bit too extravagant," Solomon spoke before Bayonetta could interrogate him further. "I promise you, no matter what you wear, you are the most beautiful woman in the world."
"And compared to your foster mother?" The witch lifted a long, smooth leg from beneath the white gown, resting her foot on the sofa. Even in this ethereal, nymph-like outfit, her dominant personality remained untamed. She accepted Solomon's admiring gaze on her ankle with satisfaction. The witch's blood ensured her body remained forever perfect—even down to her ankles and toes. "I know that in ancient Greece, exposing one's body was considered sacred, and you've seen your virgin foster mother unclothed more than once. But you, my dear, are not Tiresias [Note 1]. So, answer carefully, Boya~."
"Hiss—" Solomon inhaled sharply.
Lately, his work had kept him away from home more often, and with the renovations at the estate moving at a frustratingly slow pace, he and Bayonetta had no choice but to temporarily stay in New York. To make time for handling affairs in the Eternal City before his university classes, he had been waking up earlier and earlier. If Bayonetta wasn't upset about this, it would have been a miracle—but she was far too proud to voice such frustrations directly. However, the moment Athena invited them to a gathering on Mount Athena, Solomon had rushed back immediately—earning him a glare from Bayonetta sharp enough to cut him into a hundred and twelve pieces and feed him to the cats.
"Nothing to say?" The witch lifted Solomon's chin with a single finger. She was so close that he could catch the scent of her perfume, and his nerves gradually relaxed, his muscles unwinding. A slow, foolish smile crept onto his lips. To an outsider, it would seem like he was offering an irresistibly charming smile, but Bayonetta knew better—it was a subconscious reaction, an indication that he felt completely safe and warm in her presence.
He always gets like this around me, she mused, amused. Like a cat rolling onto its back—so cute.
"Of course, you're the most beautiful!"
"Because your foster mother isn't here?"
"Hiss—"
"I think she can wait a little longer," Bayonetta purred, pushing Solomon down and locking her toned legs tightly around his waist, her nose brushing against his neck. "We still have an hour," she murmured, licking her lips. "Jeanne went ahead already. We have time."
"But Cheshire is still—"
"Before you even got back, she already took the cat and the bird with her in the Aston Martin!"
Meanwhile, the Cheshire cat, wearing an Elizabethan collar, widened its eyes and stared at the watchful owl nearby. Taking advantage of the owl's hesitation, it suddenly ducked its head, using the plastic cone to cover its food bowl before wolfing down the fish Athena had prepared for it—effectively denying the tiny little owl, no bigger than a human palm, from stealing a bite.
Irritated, the owl pecked at the fluffy tip of the cat's tail before turning its attention to stealing food from the snake.
A tiny, squeaking white mouse.
The owl's tyranny went unnoticed by most, except for Dana, who, dressed in a maid's outfit, kept a close eye on Phoenix and the Cheshire cat. Meanwhile, Athena sat at the dining table, chatting softly with the other women about the quality of the wine.
The gathering wasn't just for the witches; Athena had also invited a few of her friends from the art world (who couldn't see Phoenix, as he had concealed himself with magic). Among them was Vanessa. Today's event was a women's wine party, and Solomon was merely an accessory—his purpose was to be the subject of Athena's occasional boasts. And as he grew older, there was more and more to boast about. Many of Athena's mortal friends had watched Solomon grow up, having heard about his accomplishments over the years.
Athena's invitation to the witches was her way of introducing them to this social circle.
"Make life more interesting," the goddess of wisdom said with a playful wink.
Unlike the witches, who could freely take on missions for Kamar-Taj, Athena was bound by her role as a representative of the Greek pantheon and could not participate in such activities. She deeply missed the thrill of battle, but for now, she had to divert her focus to art and science—especially her greatest passion: teaching others about science.
Meanwhile, an empowered young Lorna sat to the side, sulking over a stack of test papers. Though she excelled academically, Athena expected her to learn at Solomon's pace—an inhuman standard. She shot a pleading glance toward Solomon, who was outside on the balcony, making a phone call.
After finishing the call, Solomon stepped back inside. He greeted Athena with a kiss on the cheek, then kissed Bayonetta's lips. When it came to Jeanne, he hesitated for a moment—only to be yanked forward by the white-haired witch, who grabbed him by the tie.
The gathered female artists and socialites cast knowing, amused glances at the witches and Solomon.
"Ahem, my apologies, ladies," he said, loosening his tie with a finger, flashing a charming yet apologetic smile. "It seems I have some business to attend to."
Lorna wrinkled her nose, glaring at him as if he were a traitor.
Athena narrowed her eyes in amusement.
She didn't mention that someone was waiting for Solomon downstairs—nor that it was a young blonde woman in a business suit, stepping out of a luxury car.
If she did, this party would be over in an instant.
But she did catch the way Bayonetta's eyes flickered with magic.
Athena smirked knowingly. Let's see how my foster son gets out of this one.
[Note 1] Tiresias, the Greek seer, was blinded after witnessing Athena bathing. His blindness was not a punishment but a means to prevent him from seeing the truth. As compensation, Athena granted him the ability to understand bird language. As for why Solomon could look without consequence… well, isn't it obvious?
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