mycursedface: (and the last was hope)
One day, Medusa (who has entirely forgotten about being told what Valentine's Day is, and that a Certain Someone Forgot) finally decides that Lucifer Needs To Get Out More, and goes to Milliways to kidnap him.

Sam is very much not adverse to this kidnapping, possibly because Medusa is wearing a very pretty bodice.

Beyond Milliways' front door is an open area as would grace any farm; chickens in their house, a couple of goats stoped from their quest to eat the vegatables by a cunning wall, a shed and the peach-coloured wall of Medusa's own garden. There is another low building, too low to be anything but built partly under ground.

It's late afternoon, and actually fairly cool - autumn does that, even in North Africa.

And while she would give him a grand tour of the outside, she does have things cooking in the kitchen, so she leads him down some steps and around the corner. The kitchen is a large cavern, doubling as their main living space, and it is back up against the bathhouse. No sense in wasting heat, after all.

There is a large table in the middle, a working table, and it's a working kitchen for three people who love food and eat a lot.

"Welcome to my home."
mycursedface: (Berber girl)
There was a wedding, and a certain couple entirely forgot about a present. And she had sighed and said she'd make a rug, and he had gone thank you, thank you very much. And so it was that Medusa has been making a rug for the past few months in her time - occasionally drifting in and out, but mostly concentrating on colours and weaves and symbols and magic.

But lo! Said rug is finished, and is now currently being thumped down on Sam's desk.

Gently, of course.

It wouldn't do to unduely startle the Devil, just because it's hours after dawn.
mycursedface: ([Sam] in the darkness I'll find you by)
The Bar was familiar, safer than Guppy's world, but it was still inside with people and Medusa had only managed an incoherant explanation before she ran for the backdoor.

"You okay?" Sam asked, not much of a moment later.

"Too many people," she replies, studying the stars and stretching out her wings. Her previously hidden wings, and thank everything that her dress is backless.


"Mmhm." Beat. "You don't have to stay out here, though. I mean, I'm just calming down and it's silly that-"

"It's a nice night," he says, shrugging off his jacket and undoing some buttons. His reward is a shy, pleased smile.

"Okay," she says softly. She doesn't fly, not in this dress, but she walks and stretches out all her six limbs and gradually, gradually, gradually the air of a caged wild creature fades. By the time she comes back, Sam's lounging on the seat-swing with her sandals next to his shoes.

"Feeling better?"

"A little," she admits, and then shakes her head. "I may have gotten into an argument with one of Frog's friends."


"He was wrong. The Egyptians built the pyramids, not the aliens. And they line up with Orion because they are replicating the stars, and it's not some...I mean, humans are terribly clever, I'm not sure why they go about talking about things from outer space. Besides," Medusa says, tossing her head up slightly. "I've seen them."

"How did he take it?"

"Not terribly well. I'm afraid I may have told him that I'm basically immortal and then used his mental flailing to run off to Atton."

Sam just laughs. "Ah, Meda."

"I did okay?" she asks, sitting next to him and reaching out for his hand. Sam tangles his fingers with hers and grins.

"You did okay."


Jun. 25th, 2008 09:53 am
mycursedface: (dream on my dear)
Medusa is not, contrary to evidence, asleep.


She merely has her eyes shut and is thinking.

While curled up on Sam's bed, head cushioned on her arm, giving all the appearances of being asleep.


[thread contains adult content]
mycursedface: (take my hand)
from here

Running up stairs in five inch heels is...interesting, but not as impossible as it first looks - you are just running on tip-toe, after all. Which is killing her feet, but she's tipsy and in love and doesn't care.

Of course, running while laughing and holding hands with your boyfriend is not helpful to maintaining balance, so it's little wonder that at some point, Medusa trips.
mycursedface: (daughter of the sea)
Medusa and sleep are two things that often do not get along. Even if her dreams are free of nightmares now (and isn't she glad of that - even when she didn't wake up screaming, she'd be whimpering and moaning and causing a scene) it's still...
I walked beside the evening sea

And dreamed a dream that could not be;

She mostly sleeps during the day, when it's safe. She sleeps with her arms curled around Sam's pillow when she can't get Sam himself, face buried and snakes lying this way and that. Tangled up in the sheets, wings out, and for such a small person, Medusa takes up a lot of room.

The waves that plunged along the shore

And she dreams. She dreams of the ocean that is her home, of the cliffs and clouds. She dreams of the waves giggling with the voices of her sisters and she dreams of her triplets in the new and empty world in which they'd been born. She dreams of babbling in their own language and trying to pull Stheno's hair as Euryale aims for her feet and-

Said only: "Dreamer, dream no more!"

And when she wakes up, blearily shoving the pillow onto the ground, she can't remember anything. Dreams are like that, sometimes.
mycursedface: (it's all just patterns)
Read more... )
mycursedface: (once the silence has returned)
It had been good when she first came to Milliways. Curled up in Lucifer’s bed, in Lucifer’s arms, with the devil between her and the door, she could sleep. Oh, could she sleep. Damn straight she was good in bed, she had slept for days. Dreams, yes. Nightmares, yes, but…But it was sleep. It was good, too good, almost.

Too good to last, certainly.

As the nightmares began to increase, as they began to get worse and worse, it was too easy to fall into old habits and fall she did.

Lie awake for hours, staring at the door. Lie awake all night and if some of it is just due to her being used to a different sleep-pattern, most of it is just due to the fact that, well. She can’t get to sleep.

She doesn’t want to go to sleep.

Sleep means being unaware, sleep means being vulnerable, sleep means waking up to being murdered all over again. It feels the same, it always feels the same. Sometimes she’s drifting off, sometimes she’s drifting awake, but it’s the same; a sickening gasp, blind panic, and then her heart beating, beating, beating so hard with terror she is convinced that it’s going to break her ribs.

And if she does fall asleep, then it is either oblivion or nightmares. The oblivion is disconcerting; the nightmares are horrifying. Mostly, they are of being insane again, of seeing the world lawless and strange. The sky is purple, green, the trees lunge towards her and her mind is being eaten by rats. Sometimes, it is her murder; sometimes, it is her rape; sometimes it’s a strange mixture of the two, with Athena and Poseidon fighting and trampling her body underfoot (if she can scream, they never hear her, but being able to scream is rare). Mostly, though, it is memories of being crazy, and that is quite enough.

She doesn’t really need to sleep, anyway.

So, today Medusa stretches on the bed, rubs her eyes and then the cat (Shredie isn’t entirely sure what to make of this stranger, but the feathers are fun to play with), and gets to her feet. Jeans, sundress, bangles; kohl around her eyes because even if she hates looking in the mirror, even if she isn’t living in a desert, some things are habit.

And then her wire-framed glasses, and with a called goodbye to the boyfriend in the shower, she’s out the door and heading down the stairs.

April Fools

Apr. 3rd, 2008 02:59 pm
mycursedface: (April Fools - Golden Girl)
After this:

Another girl would be wondering how to tell her boyfriend, whom she loves and adores with all the passion that only one who has been hit by one of Eros's (bullets) arrows can, how she ended up with a dead blonde girl who she has only met...once before, as a wife.

Medusa is just trying to remember what the symbol on Sam's door looks like.

The Atlantean isn't helping.
mycursedface: (smile in the dark)
Medusa had spent the morning sparring with Stheno (Euryale had run off to town). Hard and fast and nasty and, in the end, Medusa had snapped her sister's wrist. Stheno had kicked her into a wall; the Gorgon girls had always played rough.

Which is why it's a good thing that they can fix each other.

So, when Medusa walks into the library (a large cavern under the earth, floor to nearly ceiling bookcases with laders with wheels that roll across the shelves, and there are tall, narrow windows to catch the breeze and light), her curls are damp from a shower and she's rolling her shoulder back. Magical healing or no, you do feel sore.


Today her nosering (India left a lasting impression, and it's a look that suits her) is a nosestud, a little golden spider with a ruby on its back , and her walk is marked by the chiming of the tiny bells around her right ankle. Not that it's easy to see said bells, given that Medusa's taste in skirts tends towards flowing things long enough to reach the tops of her feet.
mycursedface: (moon and sea and pretty twilight)
Medusa leads Sam through the front door of Milliways into her home. Her cave. Although, really, 'cave' doesn't quite cover it. It's cool, though, and directly in front of them is an open courtyard (the roof of that cavern had fallen in a thousand years before, and the girls had always been practical). There are blue tiles, mostly, all in perfect, quiet geometric patterns. Some potted plants, and a fountain (not drip, drip, drip - it's a proper wall fountain, steady as pouring out a jug). It's late afternoon, judging by the sun.

The other thing that is noticable is the magic. The girls have lived in that cave since the Sahara was an Eden of rivers and lakes, and in all those thousands of years, the magic has built up and up until it's a mesh of protection, safety, warding and comfort that not even the girls themselves really know how to unravel.

This is Medusa's home, though, and she knows it. What she doesn't know is the expression on Sam's face.
mycursedface: ([Sam] together with the Devil)
It should be said that Sam Linnfer’s divergence from his schedule – five days at Oxford, rest of the month not even rumour knows where – only made the talk about him worse. He came back after a few months (oddly enough, no one could agree how many), explained it all with ‘family trouble’, and settled back in doing who knows what as if nothing had happened. Meg swore black and blue that he had white in his hair, and Charlie agreed, but the next month Sam came even those two were forced to agree that it seemed to have vanished.

There was, however, a rather intriguing difference to before.

Everyone was used to Sam attending lectures, dropping in and sitting there as if he were a student himself and occasionally staying back to discuss, and indeed he kept on doing so. But every so often, seemingly without pattern or rhythm, he had someone with him; a very, very pretty Middle Eastern woman, headscarf around her hair and wire-framed glasses. Whereas Sam wore scruffy black, all ill-fitting with undone buttons and mismatching patches, his companion was colourful and elegant. Pleated skirts and fitted blouses, her headscarf always matched something, be it her skirt or embroidery, and walk close enough to her and she jingled like a gypsy (the result of a coin anklet around one of her slim boots, Claire discovered in a lecture on the Phoenician settlements in Northern Africa).

When asked, she said that her name was Baseema Abdullah; Tariq-from-Egypt said that she and Sam spoke together in Moroccan Arabic. Which he couldn’t understand, thank you very much, because Moroccan Arabic is fast and guttural and with French and Spanish whenever they pleased and eavesdropping is impolite, anyway.

She had a ring on the wedding finger of her left hand, and was just as devious as Sam as to regards to her background. Somehow, no one could quite bring themselves to ask what her relationship was with Sam – it’d spoil the fun. The one time anyone had come close was when Baseema had asked for directions to the library and, startled, Jonathan had blurted out, “Oh, bugger, you’re the mad wife in the attic!”

She had raised her eyebrows.

Later, everyone agreed that she was just a little too chic to live in an attic.

(For their part, Sam and Medusa just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.)
mycursedface: (water child)
Medusa doesn't feel like fighting with crocodiles today, but neither will she step a foot into the Mediterranean if she can possibly help it. The solution, as it happens, is in the lake at Milliways.

Or rather, the sea bit of it. The inlet that is warm and summery and the sea.

And so it is that the Queen of Gorgons, the Mistress of the West Gate and terrifying monster of the Western World is floating on her back in the water, eyes closed and arms and wings outstretched.
mycursedface: ([Sam] in your arms)
It's not dawn, not quite. The skies are grey and pink and fading from night fast, but it's not quite dawn. The world is waking up, birds and insects and the flowers, but Sam and Medusa aren't paying any attention at all.

Instead, the pair are still sitting on her father's granary, entirely wrapped up in each other.

This may not be an entirely wise idea...
mycursedface: (moon and sea and pretty twilight)
It's summer in Egypt, so the Nile is a swollen, flooded thing right now. But Medusa's father built his home above the highest waterline, and in any case he is a god and weather and water can be bent to his will. (Or at least coaxed, for the Old Man of the Sea had ever been one for soft words over thunderbolts). There are a several buildings, arranged roughly in a semi-circle, and made from stone and mud and straw. There is a garden, too, with trees and flowers and a pretty little stream, but that is behind the buildings and can only be glimpsed at.

It's night in Egypt, so it is pleasantly cool. During the day it'll be hot (although, not as hot as Medusa is used to sleeping through, because gold feathers and the hot, hot sun do not always get along), but now it is merely...nice.

Also, dark. Even with the stars and the cresent moon, but Medusa has a cat's eyes (almost literally, because while now her pupils are huge to let in the light, in the Bar they are nothing but slits), so she leads Sam by the hand across the main open space to the granary.

"There are footholds in the walls, if you wanted to climb up?" She says once they reach it, grinning in the dark.


mycursedface: (Default)

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