Not that she would ever admit it aloud to anyone, but Helen's life in the present wasn't all about sitting pretty, comforted by the fact that she was called the most beautiful woman in the world, that face that supposedly launched a thousand ships. Of course, it was only a saying and the physical beauty of her face alone was never, in her own view, what it was entirely about. It was her body as well, sure, but it was also her charisma and the sheer presence she commanded. She would almost liken it to Achilles' commanding presence.
Vanity does get to a person over the years when one knows she is desirable. Yet once it gets to the point of centuries passing, and standards of beauty changing over time, even Helen grew to have her moments of insecurity. She had been the most beautiful woman in the ancient world, but it was not her world anymore. Especially when she worked in an industry that was so fixated on physical appearance and critiquing it for the sake of advancement, it would be a lie to say that it wasn't something that crossed her mind on occasion.
When they told her she had to come in and do some tests before the actual photo shoot because they hired a new model, Lena Konstantinidis didn't seem too worried on the outside. Seniority ruled around VS and she had job security, no problem. It was Helen who was secretly wondering what this new girl would look like, and how she would stand up against Helen herself, and all such self-disparaging thoughts that all females had at least a few times in their lives.
Her morning coffee in hand, with her large sunglasses over her face and her hair swept up out of the way, Helen mentally prepared herself to face the new blood. As soon as she breezed through the door, however, the familiar tingle of immortal presence alerted her. Instantly, she frowned. Pushing her sunglasses up onto her head, she looked around warily. Who could be here that was setting off this feeling?