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Atara Raven · (10-19-2025)

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Plaka, Athens, Greece

Anarchy Champion.

Finally.

The timing couldn't have been better, as Atara was just over a week until the sixth year anniversary of her debut on the "Blue" brand. She couldn't remember exactly how many attempts it had taken and honestly in the moments since her victory she didn't care, but it hadn't been easy. She finally had the keystone victory she had been searching for the past year. She finally had that Championship that actually meant something towards her legacy and the victory that reminded her Aphrodite Incarnate wasn't a fading star. Centurion, Ruby, Lacklan, Dyson, Universal Soldier, and Michael Graves...the Anarchy title had legends tied to it and now she was tied to it. She could add Anarchy Atty to her ever growing laundry list epithets.

There weren't enough words to describe the tremendous amount of pride she had been feeling since winning but in that time she had fast learned she didn't need them. Moreso than her own was the pride she had found and seen in the faces of her family friends. James, the doting husband. Yiayia and Pater, all of her sisters. Sebastian, Madi, Ricky, Tony, Thaddeus, even a few in the locker room, all had been ringing her phone off the hook since that day with congratulations but best of all....

Ismini.

Her little blue eyed doppelganger had been more obsessed with mater's shiney new toy than Atara had been. Her little shoulder barely able to hold it, had toted endlessly through there home day in and day out. Her little fingers had nearly traced the sheen off the metal. Unknowingly Ismini had put Atara in mind of herself watching her mother dance years ago on National Opera stage. How she mimicked Cinderella, Medora from Les Corsaire, Juliet. How she tripped over slippers too big for her feet. All memories Atara had long buried but had erupted from her in tears in the passing days because in this sea of happy and proud faces she had been sailing Atara wouldn't pick up the Irish floral notes of her mother's perfume, she wouldn't catch a glimpse of wine colored hair or the same blue eyes she and Ismini possessed.

They were memories that dulled the moment. She knew her mother was watching and as soon as those memories came a little proud daughter finger would wipe it away, but that little finger wasn't with her right now and celebratory ouzo had been flowing.

The hour was late and James had taken little Ismini to their Plaka home to be put to bed. Atara had left behind at Bretto's as she was the focal point of a party being held at the famed Athenian ouzo bar. A place she had been to a thousand times and would be again in a few weeks. Her birthday was coming, she almost at the middle stage of life. A Greek affair meant it would go well into the morning and while typically being Atara's scene the stained glass glow of the bars ouzo collection worn on the eyes and the effects of alcohol were seeping in. Atara focused less on celebration, her mind being tugged to those buried memories. Rather be a buzzkill at her own parade she felt it was time to go. Belt in tow and saying her goodbyes, the Goddess started the drunken stumble home.

Most nights it would have been a five minutes stroll from Brettos to home, but given her state and the narrow ancient roads of Plaka it would become an Odyssey. The moment she turned left onto Kydathineon Street the warmth of friend and family had vanished the air grew cold. It was eerily quiet.

Atara tugged her belt and purse tight to her body and kept her head on a swivel as she moved. She felt watched, more so than usual. Something told her it wasn't Peeping Tom. The raucous noise from Brettos had nearly vanished as she passed by the sandal makers shop. It was nothing special, Atara owned a thousand pairs made by the owner, but for some reason this night she felt compelled to stop. Typically it's stall was open and sandals near flooded the street but at this hour it was shuttered and empty. Save for one pair of brown leather flip flops, one pair seemingly guarded by a alley cat with leopard spotted fur.

Atara stared at the cat, it eyes glowing yellow before looking to weathered footwear. She looked to her own feet, clean pedicures toes in jewel studded designer straps. Those weren't the dust covered feet of the humble Greek girl who ran these streets during Η Κρίση. The crisis, when the world seemed to collapse. Those weren't the feet that had been hardened on these very stones. Those weren't the feet that had danced her mother's dances.She looked back at the cat, it case stuck on her.

It growled as if to urge Atara on and so she did, but not before leaving her shoes behind. Pampered heels were bit with cold stones as she moved ahead. The smell of Athens night air soon mingled with the scent of incense and the modern white street light would duet with the flickering yellow of the oil lamps at the Grecian next stop.

The Icon Shop. Yiayia, Thia, now her, all had filled their walls with Saints from this shop and Atara had no need of any new, but still she felt compelled to stop. Aegean blues looked thru window glass and affixed to one painting in particular. The Theotokos. Mother of God. Almost on instinct Atara made the sign of the cross across her chest. The girl from nothing who gave the world everything. The woman who's worth was in what she gave, not what she took. Atara looked down at her title as she looked a reflection caught her eye in the glass. It was that car again, it eyes shimmering yellow still. She saw it cleared now in the lamp light. It's fur was wild, especially at the neck. Like a lions mane.

Atara started recalling the night her mother had passed. The crash. All because Atara had wanted catfood for a new kitten. Her mother losing life in attempt to give to a daughter. The lion looked back through the glass.

It growled as if to urge on and so Atara, becoming more uneasy did as beckoned. She stumbled further towards her home watching for the feline, giving it her whole attention before a glint from another shop window pulled her gaze. A the jewelry maker. Oh, she knew all this place. Her uncles competition. Themis Jewelry, her families business, was heavy into the tourist business making replica museum pieces but this place...it specialized in particular pieces. The stefana.

The orthodox wedding crown. Aegean blues quickly found a white gold circlet with sapphire jewels that looked oddly familiar to another set of crowns. Hers and James. They hadn't been made here and this wasn't the only jewelry maker in Greece who had their own version of the Ravens famed piece. It had been another source of pride for Atara, to be so idolized by her Greek sisters. Worshipped even. She started to smile but then there they were again. Those yellow orbs in the glass but this time the feline face was gone. It's face had elongated into a snout, fangs where bared...it was not cat.

A wolf.

On its haunches Atara could see it was about lunge, she needn't hear the snarl to know it was time to run and so run she did. I'm a drunken panic she ran and stumbled and each time the tap of claws on stone green closer. She wasn't going to make it home. She could barely keep her balance, holding tight to the Anarchy she ran and fell, ran and fell, til the point bloody and numb knees would pick her up . On her belly she felt the heat of the animals breath on her neck. The hairs on her own stood as intuition told her it was about to latch on. Clinching her eyes shut she awaited the inevitablel and the in the final moment.....

.....silence.

It was gone. Slowly she opened her eyes to be sure and instead of a wolfs feet she found a humans. They were bare. They were dirty. They were...male? Aegean Blues drifted up and followed a tattered and dingy black Cossack until the found the longest grey beard and face. She knew those clothes. It was a monk.

He looked down at her, eyes calm as if nothing had happened and toyed with a prayer rope in one hand. He said nothing, simply turned to his side and pointed behind them. Atty's eyes followed and found the dome of possibly the most important building in her life.

The Agia Katerina.

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