Medusa's lair
Asylum. A safe place.
Insane Asylum. A safe place for people who are insane.
It was not safe, though, for anyone. Insane or otherwise.
Outwardly it's just a crumbling complex, most of the building deteriorated beyond salvaging. It sits on the edge of a stormy, desolate bay. Behind the lobby there is a small courtyard that faces the ocean, sealed off by tall iron gates. It's late in the season and getting cold. The overgrown grass is dying. A plastic kiddie pool sits against one of the walls, looking faded and out-of-place. A hose is coiled in the bottom like a dead thing. Summer is long gone, but it will still be used. It's always cold, but Medusa doesn't yell if you get water and soap everywhere. The grass doesn't care.
Inside, the illusion ends. It's no palace, but the white tiled floors and patterned moldings are far from what you'd expect to find in a decomposing building. There's an ongoing snake motif present. They slither along the floors and ceilings, coiling artfully in the limited space. Sometimes there are real snakes, but they never come near. Maybe they're scared. After all, they're just animals. And Chrona is very scary.
Many of the larger rooms have been turned into places to store materials and equipment, or perform experiments. Chrona has been in a few of them, either fetching things or being experimented on. Not many memories of the latter are retained, and that's probably a good thing. There's also the room where there's nothing but darkness and walls that seem to disappear when the door is closed. In that room you must stay still and stay where you are, or you'll fall into the spaces where the walls were. It hurts, but you must stay still until the door is open again. Chrona has to go in there when Medusa is upset, when Chrona can't do what she asks. Can't kill the bunny or the screaming man. Ragnarok doesn't like it there any more than Chrona does, but he hides his fear behind mean words and fists.
There is also a basement of winding corridors, but it is mostly closed off. There is only a square space with two metal gates separating it from the rest of the tunnels. Beyond these gates are old beds and rusty wheelchairs and darkness. There is just one light and one old mattress and a slightly less old blanket and the stairs that lead out. Chrona sleeps down here. There are lots of bugs, but they can't hurt, and it isn't warm but at least you know where all the walls are and they don't move. Chrona has never been hurt down here, in this cube of concrete and metal and stale air. It is the only place that can truly be called "asylum."
Insane Asylum. A safe place for people who are insane.
It was not safe, though, for anyone. Insane or otherwise.
Outwardly it's just a crumbling complex, most of the building deteriorated beyond salvaging. It sits on the edge of a stormy, desolate bay. Behind the lobby there is a small courtyard that faces the ocean, sealed off by tall iron gates. It's late in the season and getting cold. The overgrown grass is dying. A plastic kiddie pool sits against one of the walls, looking faded and out-of-place. A hose is coiled in the bottom like a dead thing. Summer is long gone, but it will still be used. It's always cold, but Medusa doesn't yell if you get water and soap everywhere. The grass doesn't care.
Inside, the illusion ends. It's no palace, but the white tiled floors and patterned moldings are far from what you'd expect to find in a decomposing building. There's an ongoing snake motif present. They slither along the floors and ceilings, coiling artfully in the limited space. Sometimes there are real snakes, but they never come near. Maybe they're scared. After all, they're just animals. And Chrona is very scary.
Many of the larger rooms have been turned into places to store materials and equipment, or perform experiments. Chrona has been in a few of them, either fetching things or being experimented on. Not many memories of the latter are retained, and that's probably a good thing. There's also the room where there's nothing but darkness and walls that seem to disappear when the door is closed. In that room you must stay still and stay where you are, or you'll fall into the spaces where the walls were. It hurts, but you must stay still until the door is open again. Chrona has to go in there when Medusa is upset, when Chrona can't do what she asks. Can't kill the bunny or the screaming man. Ragnarok doesn't like it there any more than Chrona does, but he hides his fear behind mean words and fists.
There is also a basement of winding corridors, but it is mostly closed off. There is only a square space with two metal gates separating it from the rest of the tunnels. Beyond these gates are old beds and rusty wheelchairs and darkness. There is just one light and one old mattress and a slightly less old blanket and the stairs that lead out. Chrona sleeps down here. There are lots of bugs, but they can't hurt, and it isn't warm but at least you know where all the walls are and they don't move. Chrona has never been hurt down here, in this cube of concrete and metal and stale air. It is the only place that can truly be called "asylum."