mycursedface: (spread my wings (and hope not to crash))
from here:

The door slams behind Medusa, but she doesn't stop running.

(need air needair need to breathe)


Instead she, like any other bird would, uses her momentum to jump, to launch herself in the air with her wings pulling back and slamming against the air as hard as she can to leave the tug of the Earth.

(the sky is cloudy when she leaves the bar, the air warm in the late afternoon.

she doesn't notice)
mycursedface: (shining hope)
The Acropolis is burning.
(burn, burn, burn it down)


It is night now, and the glow is turning the clouds above red. A nice red, really, glowing hot even from here, and fading into a dull red. The screams had stopped hours ago (all gone now) and now there is nothing but silence.

(burn, burn, burn the scene of the crime)


At least, from where Medusa is. She is sitting on a rock on a hill a little distance away, hugging her knees to her chest. She's been watching for hours, but the smile on her face is still as bright and guileless as the flames.

(burn, burn, burn away the memories)

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mycursedface

March 2010

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