Jan. 25th, 2008

mycursedface: (insert ellipse here)
Medusa, like the other two Gorgons, is very good at waiting. They are raptors, after all, and no hunting bird gets far without being patient. The Gorgon girls can spend hours aloft, scanning coastline and scrub for game, and have their nerves just fine. But this another kind of waiting, and one that Medusa hates. Wait for the next nightmare, the next bad day, and it winds her nerves tight as a noose around a dead man’s neck, and it is exactly that kind of thinking that makes Medusa stalk into the kitchen with a swirl of gold wings, black braids (and snakes) and red skirts.


Stheno and Euryale look up.

"If you are going to yell at me," Medusa continues, left hand on her hip, "then shall we get on with it?"

"You're in a fine mood today," Stheno says, drily.

Medusa gives her a tight smile in reply.

"We're not going to yell at you," Euryale says calmly.



"Why not?"

"Because Ali has pointed out that it won't do any good." Stheno's tone is long-suffering.

Medusa eyes her triplets, warily. They smile back.

"What's the catch?"

"I'm crushed that you don't trust us, Meda. Crushed."

"You'll get over it, Euryale. Trust me. What's the catch?"

"Weeeeeell," Stheno says, slowly, contemplating the bread dough in her hands, "we have to meet your boy."


"Your boy," Euryale says patiently. "We need to meet him."

"Talk to him," Stheno put in.

"- ask him his intentions -"

"- and why he's worth your attention- "

"- and let him know that if he breaks your heart -"

"- we will eat him."

Medusa stares at them. Euryale smiles back, bright and cheerful. Stheno just hums, and so Medusa does the only thing she can.

Bury her face in her hands.


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