in the library, 2003

[mycursedface]

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.

"Lucifer?"

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.

Comments

[necessary_child]

Sam doesn't seem to mind waiting around for her to remember. Which is why, when they break, he just tugs her closer, arm around her as much as he can, given her wings.

[mycursedface]

Voice just a little bit dreamy,

"How do you do that, Luce?"

[necessary_child]

"Hmm?"

[mycursedface]

"Entirely derail my thought process."

[necessary_child]

Sam's grin is broad and boyish.

"Practice, Beautiful. Practice."

[mycursedface]

His smug grin makes her blush.

"I was going to tell you something. Important.."

[necessary_child]

Sam tugs on a strand of her hair.

"Well, I'm more than willing to stay here with you until you remember? It'll be, you know, a really hard thing to do, but I'm willing to suffer it."

[mycursedface]

She pokes him, expression turning wry.

...a really hard thing to do...

"I won't, um. Interupt you too long, that actually reminded me. Um. You last saw me...your me, um. Mardi Gras, yes?"

[necessary_child]

He frowns, a little bit.

"...Yes?"

[mycursedface]

"Well, um. I'll be. Um." She bites her bottom lip.

"Next time I come in, I mean, the right time. I'll be...a bit of a mess. And. It's all fine, now, though. I mean, Artemis fixed it and."

She stops.

"I'm not explaining this terribly well. Okay."

Deep breath, studying her fingers.

"After Mardi Gras, Nemesis sent me crazy. If you want the technical talk she messed up the limbic system in my brain. I think. When I went...insane. For. A long, long time. And, Artemis fixed it about...345, as the Christians count it?

Um. And...I crawled into Milliwys to calm down.

And I end up clinging to you.

Rather a lot."

[necessary_child]

"...Oh, Meda."

[mycursedface]

"I'm okay."

[necessary_child]

Sam tugs her carefully onto his lap, nonetheless.

"One of these days, I'm going to figure out how to keep you from getting hurt, Beautiful. At least, not so much."

[mycursedface]

She kisses him, then, lingering and sweet.

"That's, um. Nothing else happens like that. If it makes you feel better."

[necessary_child]

"Good," Sam says, when the kiss finishes. "But it's still too much."

[mycursedface]

"I broke the rules."

Beat.

"I asked my sisters to bring me back to life. I forsake...forsook? Forsaken? My duty. I had to be, um. There had to be punishment for that. Balance out the envy of the ghosts.

It's better now. I stay here, mostly. I can't, um. Stay dead. I'm not as fragile as I was. So, uh. It's...better. Not too much for me to take."

Her speech, spoken in an accent that sounded more and more Moroccan as she went out, might have been more convincing if she hadn't been curled up in his lap; all fragile bones and delicate.

Still. To her, it was the truth.

[necessary_child]

"Forsook," Sam corrects absently, cuddling her.

"Shhh." Soft, and a little helpless. "Oh, Meda."

[mycursedface]

She wriggles out of his arms, crouching on the table with her wings partially unfurled and one hand tilting his jaw up to look at her.

"No. Not poor Meda. Alive Meda. Sane Meda. Stronger Meda. Not poor Meda."

[necessary_child]

"But still," Sam insists quietly. "Not nice."

This is from someone who knows, after all. At least a little.

[mycursedface]

"No. Not nice."

Then she smiles.

"Poor Lucifer. It's a bit much, isn't it?"

[necessary_child]

"A bit much, yes," he agrees, absent-mindedly (or maybe not so absent-mindedly) measuring the length of her sides with his fingers.

[mycursedface]

"I'm sorry."

She's a small thing, really, and hour-glassy with a short waist. It doesn't take much. Even if Medusa is finding it terribly distracting. "And, um. That's it. Really."

[necessary_child]

"It's not your fault."

It might not take much, but Sam likes doing it. He would, of course, never mean to be distracting. Never.

[mycursedface]

Oh, certainly not.

"Mm. So, um. What are you reading?"

Sudden, obvious, and a little bit distracted change of subject? Never.

[necessary_child]

Surely not!

"Oh, stuff." Innocent grin. "Figures, mostly."