mycursedface: (you can't take the sky from me)
[personal profile] mycursedface
Medusa has never liked Milliways winters. Cold, snow, ice, cold. With living snakes combining with her mind, she feels herself growing slower, duller; with metal feathers growing out of her skin, it's only her preternatural healing that stops her from getting frostbite every time she goes outside.

It is morning, high mid-morning, with the sun streaming through the window. The very, very shut window - even Medusa's objections to lack of fresh air falter in the face of cold. The Gorgon herself is perched on a chair in front of the glass, staring out across the white landscape as her snakes absorb as much sunlight as possible.

(she is not alone, either; sprawled out in her lap and overcome with the bliss of constant petting is one Master Shreddie. Sun and scritches, nothing better in the whole multiverse)
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mycursedface

March 2010

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