Southern India, 345 AD

[mycursedface]

There had been chains. Chanting. A cage, inlaid and veiled with red, red, scarlet red. There had been a girl, beaten and strong. There had been begging, her own, screams and ramblings and whisper, whisper, whisper and cry for the sky and there had been blood, blood, blood all poured out into bowls.

And there had been a fire.

She remembers the fire.

If there hadn't have been a fire, her clothes wouldn't be burnt, would they? Once a sari, costly and beautiful and fit for a goddess, now rags and charcoal showing ash-covered and still-perfect limbs.

She'd been worshiped before, but not like that and Medusa, gold nose-ring still there (give her a mirror and a century to calm down, and she might concede it actually suits her), gold manacles still on her wrists and ankles, gold bangles still jingling, is pacing in the ruins of a temple. She's chewing her bottom lip and fuming, the snakes hissing angry, angry, angry.

(like the sky above her, dark and rumbling with energy and pressure always rising)

If she wasn't certain that the men responsible had been killed, then Medusa, thinking in the clarity that only resurrection can bring, would be making sure that they were begging for it.

Comments

[untiedtheknots]

It is so loud, so loud until Artemis can't hear anything anymore, just a roaring somewhere beyond and between her ears and



(this is her grief)

it is, after all, a not unfamiliar sound.

[mycursedface]

Eventually, she draws breath. Eventually, the scream turns into sobbing. Heart-broken, defeated sobbing with her foreheard resting against the cracked stone and her body shaking with it.

[untiedtheknots]

Artemis kneels beside her, draping an arm around her cousin's shoulders while being careful of her wings.

She murmurs a low string of comforting nonsense, unsure of how much is getting through but knowing that she cannot just stay silent.

[mycursedface]

It takes a while for the Gorgon to cry herself out, but not as long as you might expect.

Medusa pushes herself up, wiping tears away with ash-covered hands until her face is streaked with it. Wipe her nose with the back of her hand, push her braids out of the way and she's a mess.

Still beautiful, though. Beauty does not fade, in their world. It is there and fact and you are either blessed with it or cursed, depending on your point of view.

Medusa would say cursed, right about now.

She hiccups with the aftermath of her grief and doesn't even flinch as it starts to rain. She waits for the latest roll of thunder to fade and then just shakes her head.

"Thank you, cousin mine."

[untiedtheknots]

It's a good rain; Artemis tips her head back and closes her eyes.

"You are always welcome, cousin dear."

[mycursedface]

She'd mourned for her sons once. Once is...is enough. So she can smile. Sadly, crookedly, but it's a smile.

"I'm a mess, aren't I?"

[untiedtheknots]

Artemis cracks an eye to take a look at her; she smiles softly back.

"Nothing that can't be fixed."

[mycursedface]

She sniffs.

"Flatterer."

[untiedtheknots]

The smile widens.

"If you want flattery, I could always try and pry 'Dite away from Rome."

[mycursedface]

"Ahahah...no."

Beat.

"Rome. Oh, Sea and Earth...I've missed a lot, haven't I?"

[untiedtheknots]

"Eh, I bet you'll be caught up in no time," Artemis says.

"Suffice to say that Rome is the new power back home. Oh, and for some reason, they decided most of us needed new names. Except for my brother."

She's never quite forgiven him for escaping that.

[mycursedface]

"...do I get a new name?"

[untiedtheknots]

Artemis thinks about that one for a moment.

"No, you too escaped the 'I have to learn to answer to a whole new name' trend. Still Medusa."

[mycursedface]

"Oh, good."

She lets out a deep breath, and then her snakes swear. "Damnit, you'd think I'd be cried out, wouldn't you."

[untiedtheknots]

Artemis shrugs.

"Being cried out always seemed like a silly idea to me. Far as I'm concerned, you can take as long as you want."

[mycursedface]

The Gorgon is mostly silent for a moment, barring the odd sniff and caught breath.

"I don't suppose I could throw all dignity to the winds and ask for a hug, could I?"

[untiedtheknots]

"You don't even need to ask."

And Medusa gets a hug--not a rib-crushingly desperate one like Apollo has received a time or two, but a firm hug all the same. A reassuring one.

[mycursedface]

Medusa, soaked through and covered in mud from the ash, clings back. She shifts across into Artemis' lap, all fragile bones and cold skin, and just clings to the goddess as if Artemis is the only thing currently proping her up.

Which, in a lot of ways, she is.