mycursedface | (no subject)

(no subject)

She flew in from the north-east, taking a short-cut through the desert skies, but even so she could still see the town when she approached her home. A fishing town, small but not a village, with boats out in the ocean and Romanesque buildings.

It hadn’t been there when she left.

A swerve to the left and there were walls, a gate and a beaten path from the road. Some buildings, too, above where the caves are, and an encircled garden and it’s on the garden wall that Medusa finally settles.

Settles, crouches, stares at her sister as the other Gorgon weeds.

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“You know,” Stheno says in the triplets lilting, musical language, “I thought you’d be gone for-“

As she glances over her shoulder, her voice falters.

“-a while.”

“Ali’s out?”

“Yeah. Market day.”

“Oh.”

Slowly, she gets to her feet and turns around to face her sister fully, hardly daring to breathe.

“She’s, um. Better at bargaining than I am.”

“They don’t mind our-” Her wings open and shift a little.

“Oh! No. Pappos got Hephaestus to make us some rings, we can look human.”

“That…makes sense, I guess.” She says, slowly, feeling more than a little surreal.

“Yeah.” Beat, glance down. “You don’t seem, um. Crazy.”

“I’m not. Artemis cured me.”

Stheno nods, still studying her dirt-stained hands.

“Y’gonna come down?”

“You want me to?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t…hate me?”

for being sent crazy always broken
used against you

Stheno is still staring at her.

“Artemis lied. You’re still batshit, Meda.”

A little crossly, “It’s a valid question.”

“You know, it’s really not.”

Medusa has the grace to flush.

“So, you coming down?”

She breathes in and then jumps down, landing easily on the soft grass and straightening up.

And then she launches herself at her sister, burying her face in the join of shoulder and neck, clinging and shaking and Stheno Stheno I've misssed you I'm sorry oh I'm so sorry and I'm never leaving again I promise Stheno Stheno Stheno

She staggers back, arms going around Medusa without her even thinking about it. And if Medusa is crying, hard enough that the words she is attempting are hopelessly mangled, then Stheno really isn’t much better.

Medusa’s home.

She’s home, she’s home, she’s home.

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